The Pawn Who Would Be Queen

Another day sunny day had dawned across Equestria, and with it came a veritable bushel of trouble... This trouble was more or less unseen by the wider Equestrian populace, though they undoubtedly felt the impact in their wallets. The very first issue to slide onto Princess Celestia's desk hailed from none other than the Griffon Empire, she wished she could say she was surprised. There were other issues around the world, issues that she wished she could all handle personally, but the sad truth was that there was only one of her... Luna would handle the issues that required a martial hand, and Cadence could handle domestic issues, but issues of foreign policy...? Today, that was Celestia's burden to carry.

The shipments of Griffon Iron started well enough, until the Griffon Navy started needlessly halting and searching every outgoing vessel for 'Customs Inspections'. This delayed shipments by days, which disrupted flow to Equestrian steel mills, which in turn caused increased costs... As steel was vital to virtually every facet of the Equestrian economy, from shipyards to automobile factories, the disruptions had very rapidly caused a chain reaction.

Matters weren't helped by numerous reports of Griffon submarines sinking several ships bound from the North, which had renewed the fiery Iron Blood separatist rhetoric. Numerous attempts were made to broker a discussion between Emperor Grover and Celestia, but none had born fruit. All appearances were maintained by spokespeople, or occasionally Crown-Prince Soor, but rumors that the Emperor had taken ill were swiftly spreading throughout the Griffonia as a whole, further worsening the supply chain situation. Thankfully Equestria had a large enough reserve to make up the difference, and prices would gradually stabilize, but the situation in the Empire was fast deteriorating.

While the treaty signed by North and South had doubtless eased tensions in the short term, it also had the unintended consequence of giving the Northern provinces a taste from the pie of self governance. Now, having had that delicious slice of liberty, they wanted the entire damn pie. With the interference of their own Navy mounting, Adler von Eisenblut had called upon retired admirals and officers in the Northern provinces to form what they called the 'Volksmarine', or 'People's Navy'...

It was comprised mostly of old fishing trawlers, a few outdated Q-Ships, captured pirate vessels, and a series of torpedo boats donated by various powers in West Parthenia that were eager to see the Imperial Griffon Navy's
domination of the East Celestia Ocean brought to an end. The Volksmarine was lightly armed compared to the Imperial Griffon Navy, sporting widely outdated artillery and depth charges. It was deployed to escort iron shipments to the safety of International Waters. As they were constantly under the watchful eyes of what the Northern provinces dubbed a 'legitimate law enforcement agency', the Imperial Navy would have no reason to stop them for customs violations. The Navy, of course, disagreed.

The treaty made provisions for when such issues arose, of course, calling upon the neutral party of Equestria to ultimately arbitrate the matter. Luna had sided, unsurprisingly, with the Northern provinces... Cadence had abstained, and that left Celestia in a bit of a lurch. She wanted to side with the Northern provinces as well, but that risked damaging relations with the Empire and straining a Non-Aggression Pact that had stood for the past two hundred years. If she sided with the Empire, however, it was very likely the stoppages would continue, placing Equestria's economic stability in jeopardy...

Taking a deep breath, the woman leaned back in her seat, casting a look at the cage resting beside her desk. Philomena, her phoenix familiar, stared back at her with head tilted curiously. For a few brief moments Celestia cast the worries of rule out of her mind, offering her arm to the bird, which gracefully leapt from the open cage to perch thereupon. The Princess gently stroked the bird's feathers, taking some comfort in the exceptionally warm creature's silky plumage. While there was a spark of intellect within the bird's eyes, Celestia doubted she could ask her familiar for any assistance on the current matter. For one thing Philomena had a habit of playing nasty tricks, and for another... Well, it wasn't as if phoenixes couldn't talk.

The topic of familiars got the woman thinking about her niece, something that brought a genuine smile to her lips, though that quickly gave way to a frown. Orzel was having a rough go of things on Amberjack, at least as far as keeping up with certain deadlines for various projects. According to Luna, the decision had been made to reduce the number of requests made to her, at least for the time being. While Luna was once again tempted to bring her home, there were still far too many risks that needed to be covered, and so the girl would be forced to remain in protective exile for the time being. Celestia's eyes wandered to a bright orange gemstone resting in an inset on her desk, about as large as her balled fist, and cut to resemble an eight pointed sun. Celestia briefly weighed her options, then sighed...

"Call Orzel." Declared Celestia, allowing Philomena to hop back into her cage while the gemstone glowed brightly to life. It rose form the carved inset, rotating in gradual circles whilst emitting a soft soothing hum. For a few minutes it did nothing but float there, lazily completing rotation after rotation, until Celestia was just about ready to abort the spell altogether. Then, with moments to spare, the crystal halted its spinning and projected hundreds of tiny points of orange light, which formed a familiar diminutive form... Apparently leaning over a table of some sort.

"Tak, Matka?" Came the slightly distracted reply. Celestia blinked for a moment, while she'd tried to learn Orzel's language, it proved a little too esoteric for her limited understanding of draconic to handle.

The Princess observed her niece, apparently in the midst of tinkering with something, judging by the fact that Orzel's holographic projection was holding an almost comically oversized wrench. Her niece was attired in an unexpectedly casual manner, wearing her typical headscarf and pendant, plus one of those new 'telnyashkas' and a pair of fatigues, allowing Celestia the first chance to actually get a good look at the girl's arms since her arrival. She looked nothing like a typical Equestrian teenager... With strips of scales, and muscles so defined, they looked almost as if they'd been chiseled from stone. The Arcane Beacon could only display so much detail, however.

"Matka?" Orzel repeated, looking up and spotting Celestia. "Oh... Aunt Celestia... I thought it was Mother. Is something wrong?" The girl swapped to Griffish of all things, a language she'd picked up in the course of her work analyzing certain 'artifacts'. Apparently that was easier for her to pronounce than Equestrian, and it was a language the two of them both knew well enough. Celestia shook her head, offering a friendly smile of greeting.

"Must something be wrong for me to contact my niece?" Celestia countered in Griffish, to which the girl gave a half shrug and returned to whatever it was she was tinkering on. The Arcane Beacon could at times project very fine details, but those details tended to distort over greater distances... Only items in personal contact were rendered with clarity. "I just wanted to check on you. I know you weren't feeling all that great..." She saw Orzel stiffen for a moment, though she quickly returned to her work. "I realize you probably prefer talking to your Mother, but if there's anything you want to talk about..." The girl stopped and put the wrench down, at which point it became just as blurry as whatever object she'd been using it on.

"You will not tell Mother?" The girl questioned, looking at older Princess with a mask of such implacability that even Celestia couldn't get a read on her niece's feelings. That was both impressive and heart wrenching, as while it would undoubtedly serve her well on the throne, it would also make it next to impossible to tell if something was wrong... Given recent events, that was troubling. Of course, that left really only one way of determining what was going on in that little head of hers, and so Celestia nodded in response to the girl's question.

"I am just... Frustrated." The girl admitted, tucking her hands into her pockets and strolling to take a seat on a blur that clarified to a workshop stool. "I fear I am not doing my duties as a Princess... I just work on the projects requested of me by the Agency, or work on my own projects. I read reports as they are provided, offer my written support to bills I believe in, but I suspect it amounts to little..." The girl fiddled with the pendant dangling around her neck, then started to ring her hands. "I have made at least one friend here, but... I miss Spike. I want to see him again, for real this time."

"I know..." Celestia agreed, her smile fading slightly. "We're working on a way to end the threat once and for all, you just need to be patient." Orzel's features briefly showed a flash of annoyance, obviously she'd heard that line dozens of time already, but what else could Celestia say? "You know, perhaps you could help me with something related to foreign policy? I am in need of some advice." Celestia offered...

While she was still skeptical of Orzel's view on Equestrian foreign policy, at least including her niece in the discussion about the Griffon issue might help to alleviate some of that 'frustration' the girl described. She certainly knew enough now about governance to at least voice an opinion.

"You have been informed of the deteriorating situation in the Griffon Empire?" Celestia asked curiously, unsurprisingly Orzel nodded, leaning back in her seat. "What are your thoughts overall?" The girl took on an aspect of deep thought, rubbing at her chin and pursing her lips.

"This may be an unpopular opinion, but at present I believe it prudent to support the Northern Provinces..." The girl finally stated after much consideration, though the assessment didn't particularly take Celestia by surprise. "The armed forces of the Northern Provinces are loyal to the Iron Bloods, as are a vast majority of its inhabitants, and let us not forget the Drakes that inhabit those mountains." She expanded, resting her hands in her lap.

"The Empire has lost legitimacy and virtually conceded control over half of its territories to said territories..." The Princess continued thoughtfully. "As a result, the Empire's ability to interact with the international community as a unified body has been eroded, all while it fails to provide many of its citizens with the most basic of government services. If anything, it is actively working to destroy said citizens, if the reports of these sinkings are to be believed."

"It is therefore, by definition, a failed state." Orzel concluded matter-of-factly, quietly pausing to adjust her glasses as they slid forwards on her nose. The girl's assessment of the Empire was unexpectedly well worded, but once again Celestia wasn't surprised by its content...

Undoubtedly Orzel was allowing her own distaste for her former homeland to cloud the issue, and yet Celestia had to admit she made several valid points. The Emporer's authority had been undermined, and the treaty between both sides was likely only delaying the inevitable, assuming the Empire didn't do something to solve its underlying problems. Yet Equestria and the Griffon Empire had a long history of peaceful coexistence, ever since the founding of the latter at the end of Nightmare War. There were periods of tension, certainly, but Celestia didn't want to abandon all the two states had done together...

"It is not a question of if the Empire will dissolve, but when..." Added Orzel, in a tone of voice that was hauntingly reminiscent of Luna's... "We must take steps to ensure the iron supply is secure ahead of time, and one means of doing so will be to ingratiate ourselves with the future Northern regime." Setting aside how much she disagreed with her niece's cynicism for the moment, Celestia came to the decision to expand her own knowledge on just how Orzel might handle a future crisis...

"What about when this 'dissolution' you predict takes place? If it were up to you, what would Equestria's role be then?" Asked Celestia, though once again she suspected she already knew the answer. When given the choice between a carrot and a stick, Orzel tended to lean heavily upon the stick. The issue of the Griffon Empire's possible collapse was one that Celestia had discussed with Luna in the past, and her sister's response had called for a military intervention... It would be by way of deployment of an expeditionary force, comprised of Lunar Marines to aid whichever side Equestria chose however necessary. Celestia supposed her niece would propose a similar solution.

"Were it up to me, and barring some sudden change in information that would make our involvement a priority, our role would be minimal..." The girl's tone sounded as if it should've been obvious, but here Celestia was nonetheless surprised. "I would not ask my subjects to shed their blood in someone else's war, not unless Equestrian blood was shed first, as it has been..." She declared simply.

"If we must support a side, it should be the North... Even then, our aid should be restricted to the supply of arms, munitions, and other war materials..." Orzel paused, considering, then added. "Should it become necessary to send forces of any sort, they should first be comprised of volunteers. If more Equestrian lives are needlessly taken by the Griffons, however, our hand will be forced." The girl shook her head distastefully. "Contrary to what you may feel, Aunt Celestia, Equestria has no obligation to serve as the world's 'Peacekeeper'. Its only obligation is to its citizens. As I said, I would prefer we not shed Equestrian blood at all, but if it is between that and securing the iron for our own interests? We must secure the iron."

Celestia wished she could deny the frightful statement Orzel had just made, but there was truth in her niece's pragmatic approach. As had already been evidenced by the brief stoppages of iron ore, a disruption in the supply chain could have devastating consequences for the economy. Not just Equestria's, but virtually every other state in the known world. Most, if not all, of the various countries relied on Griffon iron in some capacity.

Prices would skyrocket if the iron stopped flowing long enough for those nations to burn through their reserves, businesses would be forced to cut costs, millions around the globe would lose their jobs. Suddenly the crown Celestia wore atop her head felt remarkably heavy, though she knew this to only exist in her mind. How could she balance loyalty to one of Equestria's historically international partners against the cost in the livelihoods of millions?

A major economic depression would be perhaps just as damaging in the long term as the threat of a sudden Changeling invasion was in the short term. Of course, there were policy options to reduce the risks, or aid in recovery should the unthinkable happen... The Noble Party, for example, were making a push to take Equestria off the 'Gold Standard' and adopt a system of 'fiat currency'.

The more pressing concern was coming to a decision regarding the current Griffon situation, and despite hearing her niece's counsel, Celestia didn't feel any better about her options. Her sacred task, as charged her by the oath she'd sworn upon her coronation, had always been the protection of her subjects above all others... From the way Orzel described things, it seemed obvious that supporting the North was the proper decision, but Celestia wasn't convinced. What if the new regime proved just as unstable as the old? Wasn't it better to deal with the Government she knew than one she didn't?

"I honestly hope it doesn't come to that." Celestia said softly, and though her niece remained implacable, there nonetheless came the faintest of nods. Having had her fill of the discussion of geopolitics and the pros or cons of military intervention, the woman hoped a change in subject might perhaps lighten her mood. "Would you care to talk about something less dire?" Once again her niece nodded, standing from her seat and returning to work on the item she was tinkering with. It was about that time Celestia noticed an odd gauntlet on Orzel's left wrist, though many of its details were obscured, as it appeared to be giving off a good deal of arcane interference... "Tell me more about the latest project you're working on? When last we spoke, you were modifying those adorable little soldier dolls so they could install spy cameras for Orcus." Celestia added with a smile.

"They are action figures, not dolls." Orzel made a point of clarifying, a tad defensively, before her posture relaxed. "I have taken a brief detour from that front, as I found the scope of the work too limiting, and my interests shifted accordingly." Celestia hummed and gestured at the girl's arm, at which point she watched Orzel flick a switch on the strangely cobbled together device. The blur of arcane interference faded, revealing an odd amalgamation of electronics, runes, and sheet metal, held together mostly by nuts and bolts.

"With this I can keep a catalog of all of my projects, vital signs, objects on my person... This model can even receive radio signals!" There it was, what Celestia had hoped to see in the wake of her question. The mask of impassivity slipped away to reveal a look of genuine glee as Orzel went on in her description of the device. "I call it the Katalog Badań Osobistych... The closest translation is Personal Research Catalog or Personal Research Directory..." She trailed off. "Just KBO for short, this model in particular is my tenth prototype."

Celestia sat and listened to her niece as she described, in great detail, just how her 'KBO' functioned. With each passing minute, more and more of her niece's stoic facade ebbed away, and in those moments Celestia wished her sister could've been present. It would've done Luna well to see that recent stress aside, her daughter was actually managing to find happiness in her work. Likewise, to hear of the girl's work in and of itself would've been a source of great pride for Luna. Despite her recent start to the craft, and her relatively young age, Orzel's skill by now far surpassed the majority of modern practitioners of the Enchanting school. She was, perhaps, even nearing the level of 'Master Enchantress'...

Whenever Celestia had a question Orzel was more than capable of answering it, and when she did so, it was with a clear precise explanation... No frills, no 'hocus pocus', almost as if the girl was reciting from some sort of research journal. It was both enthralling and a tad disconcerting, to hear something so mysticized as magic to be described in such... Cold, scientific terminology. While most Enchanters would describe their work as 'casting spells to gave life to their words'... Orzel, describing the same process, referred to it as 'infusing the runes with controlled bursts of thaumatergic energy, ideally for between ten and fifteen seconds, to stabilize the runic structure before applying further energy as needed.'.

Had anyone come to Celestia and spoke of magic in such a way before, she would've dismissed them as not knowing what 'magic' truly was... In response, Orzel professed emphatically that 'Magic is merely science we have yet to quantify.'. Yet for all the cold terminology, all the insistence that Enchanting was at its core the 'Engineering of Magic', there was an unmistakable passion driving it all. Again, if drakes could get cutie marks, Orzel would've found hers a hundred times over. The happiness that Celestia saw within Orzel went beyond a mere interest in what she did, though there was no shortage of that.

It was an absolute elation, that morphed the girl's entire aspect to one of exulted pride and purest joy whenever she spoke on the subject. The look of sheer bliss Celestia described in her nieces eyes was the same she'd witnessed in the countless great painters, musicians, writers, sculptors, and all the legendary artists whom Celestia had met in her numerous centuries of life.

Beneath Orzel's impassive 'still water' exterior, down in the depths of her very soul, there burned the passionate heart of an artist. An unconventional artist, most certainly, but an artist nonetheless... The Princess suspected the girl would disagree, as it seemed she had a narrow view of what constituted 'art', but to the Celestia it was one of her highest compliments. Even thousands of miles away, it warmed the woman's heart to know now that not only had Orzel managed to get better, she was actually thriving...

Before she knew it, Celestia had spent the better part of two hours conversing with her niece... Given the dire subject they'd taken on when she'd initiated the call, it was safe to say that her mood had improved considerably, certainly enough that she was already thinking of alternatives. The session reminded her of the various personal lessons she'd held with Twilight Sparkle, and it was only when Orzel emitted a fairly sizable yawn that Celestia glanced at one of several clocks on her wall. They were tuned to the primary time zones of Equestria, with the addition of one, set for 'Far Eastern Island Time'... While it was only the mid-afternoon for Celestia, Orzel was a great many hours ahead, making it quite late for her.

"So when I finally complete the KBO project, it will hopefully be in a form that is less expensive, easily portable..." The girl continued, holding up several sheets of paper, though as they were holographic they lacked any detail. "Perhaps even light enough to be issued to government personnel? Military? No, not in its current form... First responders and Civil Defense? Maybe... Yes... Yes! I would first need to modify the twelfth line on the eighth runic plate..." Orzel trailed off. "It would really come in handy if I could make them 'talk' to one another! For instance, if-" The girl gave another tremendous yawn, then rubbed tiredly at her eyes. "If issued during a crisis, different emergency responders could still communicate with one another instantaneously! What do you think?!" Celestia smiled sadly, desperately wishing she could give the girl a hug...

"I think it's about time for you to start getting ready for bed." The woman softly chided, her eyes falling back to the numerous files resting on her desk. "No, it's a fine idea, but... Perhaps one that should wait until you've had a good night's sleep?" The girl looked slightly crestfallen, but nodded, unable to hide yet another yawn. Celestia was unable to contain a yawn of her own, as the contagious aspect of the act had apparently spread across thousands of miles of distance. She wondered if it was restricted simply to seeing someone yawn, could just hearing about it have the same effect? Could reading about yawning make someone yawn? Celestia shook her head, she was getting off track again. "I'll call you again soon, okay? I love you."

"I love you too, Aunt Celestia." Orzel's voice was tired, but jovial and sincere... With those final words of farewell, Celestia ended the call, allowing the glowing orange gem to return to its cradle within her desk.

Her niece's holographic image flickered into nothingness, leaving Celestia suddenly feeling very lonely. She could only imagine how her niece felt, all the way on the other side of the world. How long had it been since Celestia had had a good talk with Twilight Sparkle, whom she'd gradually come to see as her quasi-surrogate daughter. If she couldn't remember it was probably too long... There was so much work that needed doing, so many crises that needed averting, and the woman would get around to it eventually... But first, she picked up a quill and a blank roll of parchment. There was something she needed to do first.

"To my faithful student, Twilight Sparkle..."

The first thing Princess Luna saw upon opening her eyes was an open expanse of faintly pulsating energy, stretching on and on ad infinitum to the horizon and beyond. Flickering windows, each housing different imagery, hovered overhead of their own accord, displaying countless visions of the most bizarre and the mundane sort. These strange mirages, coupled with the sensation of being warm and comfortable, were the unmistakable signs that her consciousness now bore witness to the hallowed plains of the Realm of Dreams.

It was a sight that she'd become intimately comfortable with since first assuming her duties as the Warden of Dreams, one that she was equally eager to share with her daughter. While in the past they'd communicated through arcane beacon and occasionally dreams, the girl had never quite managed to reach a level of dream lucidity that allowed her to surpass the confines of her own mind.

That wasn't unexpected, as doing so for herself was one of the greatest challenges Luna had faced growing up. Despite numerous centuries of experience and practice, she was still learning new things about the mysterious realm where the mind came to rest... Strolling among the windows of dreams revealed that most came from states beyond Equestria's shores, or those that worked nights and slept during the day, much as she did. There were some from realms no Equestrian had glimpsed, so far removed from the world's current collective consciousness that they presented as little more than flickering glimmers of static.

While Luna made it a practice not to pry too deeply into the personal dreams of people, especially her enemies, sometimes it was impossible to ignore them. For example, one of the larger dream windows displayed visions of vast Griffon armies marching through the Griffon Capitol, all saluting their new supreme ruler, 'Generalissimo Adler von Eisenblut'. What the Princess found so odd about this dream of victory, however, was that it wasn't a dream at all... It was a nightmare.

Eisenblut seemed horrified at the prospect of armies chanting his name, pledging their undying fealty to his Empire, and came across as absolutely petrified at the idea of so many people looking to him to lead their new nation. Every chant of his name elicited a wince, every salute resulted in him flinching, and yet he remained rooted to the reviewing stand. Perhaps he was so frightened of power because he knew what responsibility came with it, and feared that by defeating the system, he would become that very same system.

Briefly the Princess debated entering the dream and conferring with the man, walking him through the nightmare as she so often did with her own subjects, but she stopped as yet an other dream window flickered into being. The images were strangely familiar, someone swimming through a sea of pitch blackness towards a sailing ship, kicking and fighting against the darkness itself... It lasted only a few moments, then evaporated.

It was replaced by yet another window, and this one Luna was certain she knew. It didn't take long for her to recognize its owner as her daughter, the 'signature' was well known to Luna. Approaching the window, she observed the dream with a tenseness in her heart.

Orzel looked haggered and beaten down, at least in the emotional sense, though her physical appearance was likewise tarnished. The glow of her eyes had faded to naught but embers, and without it... She looked virtually lifeless, like a shambling decrepit husk. That image, forever burned in Luna's brain, was soon joined by hysterical laughter and uncontrolled sobs, which together would likely form the accompanying score for every nightmare Luna had would endure since. Such helplessness she felt in that instant, knowing that no matter how many times she quelled the nightmares, she was powerless to eternally take her daughter's pain upon herself, to spare her beloved child from the grief and suffering that recurred every night...

All these thoughts and more flooded Luna's mind as she watched Orzel's dream unfold... She was carrying what Luna suspected was one of her new rifles, sprinting through the jungle, only for the muddy soil to give way to cobblestone. Where once the foliage surrounded her, now there burned the city of Canterlot, overrun by hordes of glistening black chitinous forms, with every member of Orzel's adoptive family dead or dying. It was a nightmare that Luna had born witness to countless times, and no matter how she tried to steer it away, the underlying fear of 'what if' was too great for such changes to last for long.

Only Orzel herself could do that, and after having a great deal of practice, that was what she was slowly accomplishing... The nightmarish burning city streets gave way to well ordered rows of bookshelves, residing within a stately octagonal atrium of wood and polished stone, its floor comprised of glistening marble. Atop the various bookshelves, wooden models of square rigged ships cast shadows from row upon row of large stained glass windows. Orzel now sat at a long polished walnut table, adorned in simple prayer robes, her headscarf, and glasses. As Luna expected, her daughter had her nose firmly planted in a tome, larger than the girl's head.

The library of Orzel's dreams, at least from Luna's perspective, held a comforting sort of quasi-cathedral aura to it. Through the window, Luna could sense that her daughter's mind was entering a state of restful meditative slumber it hadn't enjoyed for some time... It was so peaceful, so tranquil, that Luna had to wonder what prevented the girl from joining her in the Realm of Dreams. Whatever the reason, Luna wasted little time in stepping through the window.

The only initial difference that she noticed compared to the realm of dreams, as was so often the case, was the smell... Aging leather and book dust, coupled with just the faintest hint of 'Bay Rum' aftershave. The presence of the last aroma was something Luna hoped to attribute to her daughter's longing for her father, though she was also reliably informed that it was the preferred type used by Spike... Orzel's boyfr-... Boyf-... Friend who was a boy. Here, beholden to her subconscious, Luna had far more difficulty accepting her daughter's relationship than she let on.

Dream windows tended to be one way portals, but it never hurt to make sure, so Luna glanced over her shoulder. For the briefest of moments she caught sight of another woman, adorned in black robes, whose eyes glowed a faint shade of amber. Her skin was pale, her features bearing only the faintest of sad smiles, Luna had encountered this apparition once or twice in her visits to Orzel's dreams... Every time the woman's face was obscured or distorted, and yet it remained hauntingly familiar. Her daughter, likewise, didn't know their identity either...

Something was different tonight... The figure was looming closer to Orzel than usual, and her eyes gazed upon the girl with a level of pride and affection Luna thought possible of only herself... It was in that moment that everything clicked, and as a result the illusion concealing the woman's identity was broken. Sure enough, Luna was stunned to find herself staring directly at Sokol, Orzel's birth mother. The Princess approached the woman, but Sokol turned away... To Luna's surprise, she could not command the apparition to stay.

"Wait..." She said in Szafirian, albeit softly, so as not to disturb Orzel, who still seemed enamored of her current book. "I know you. I remember you..." Sokol stopped and faced Luna, her eyes betraying a deep sorrow that she otherwise hid well. "You are not part of this dream, shade... Is your purpose here to torment my daughter?" The woman shook her head, tucking her hands into the opposing sleeves of her robe, her eyes lingering briefly on the girl at the table.

"I gave her life, I could never harm her..." The spirit responded in a barely audible whisper. "I watch over her, when you cannot. You must understand, she is in danger..." Luna raised an eyebrow, her expression becoming all the more serious. Sokol's apparition glided across the floor, her features etched with a profound sadness as she cast one final look at Orzel. "Tell her to cease looking for my corporeal form, it no longer resides within your reach. Please, do not inform her of what you have discovered... I cannot say more..."

Luna scrambled to think of a response, but was not quick enough, for in the blink of an eye the woman evaporated completely out of sight, disappearing in a cloud of wispy black fog. Luna stood in bewildered confusion, rubbing at her eyes as a myriad of thoughts ran through her head.

Sokol, or what looked to be Sokol, had not been part of the dream, and yet she was... It was unlike anything Luna had encountered in all her years tending this realm, something she would need to bring to Piercing and Orcus. While the Princess doubted the true spirit of Sokol would do her daughter any harm, Luna couldn't be sure that what she'd seen was, indeed, the spirit of Sokol. Luna and Orzel shared a similar arcane signature, and while that generally meant Orzel's magic was more powerful, it also carried with it certain risks... There was a chance that a certain 'affliction' Luna had visited upon herself might, like a parasite, also latch upon her daughter.

If it truly was Sokol, that begged the question as to what she was doing within Orzel's mind. Luna had watched the life drain from the woman's body, she'd heard the death raddle, and consoled her daughter in those initial moments of grief. Sokol was dead, and yet the dead could not dream... It brought to mind a conversation Luna recently had with Director Orcus on the matter of Sokol's body, specifically the impassioned tongue lashing she'd imparted for his delay in release it for burial. Again. Recovering that body and giving it some form of respectful ceremony remained one of Luna's top priorities.

Ostensibly the remains were stored two stories underground, in a portion of the Nocturne Headquarters beneath the Morgue. Designed to serve as a disaster bunker for the Royal Family, it could withstand one of Celestia's most destructive spells, behind twenty-five feet of reinforced concrete, two twenty ton blast doors, five security checkpoints, and two full platoons of Cerberus troopers. Luna's vehement insistence that the remains be released forced Orcus to reveal the truth of the matter, a truth that was most embarrassing, but not wholly unexpected, given recent events. Like a great many other artifacts in the care of the Nocturne Agency, the remains were missing, gone without a trace...

If the spirit was genuine, was it haunting Orzel's dream in an effort to help find its lost body? Would Sokol only be at peace after she was properly interred? Luna suspected that line of thinking was the result of listening to too many episodes of 'The Starlit Realm' radio series. What danger could she have been referring to? The Changelings, or something else? Why did all strange premonitions, apparitions, and prophetic visions have to be so frustratingly vague? With the last of the fog dissipating, the Princess turned her attention back to her daughter, who for all intents and purposes hadn't lifted her gaze beyond the current page of her book.

In the end, Luna supposed that for now it was best to continue with 'business as usual', at least until she could consult some of her older tomes and her closest advisers on matters of the paranormal. So, straightening her spectral gown, Luna strode across the marble flooring, where she soon stood beside the girl and rested a hand on her shoulder, causing her to flinch with a start.

"Sorry..." Offered Luna as Orzel turned to look at her, though the girl appeared outwardly stoic. The Princess could catch a glimpse of the large tome, and was unsurprised to see that it pertained to enchanting. Of course it was one that Orzel already had read, otherwise it wouldn't have been present in the library of her mind... This book in particular pertained to a niche sect of the enchanting community that dealt with history of the Pre-Equestrian era, specifically that of a draconic sort.

"Are you ready for tonight's lesson in dream magic?" Luna inquired, Orzel looked at her book again, then sighed and nodded dejectedly... Luna didn't buy it. "What is wrong?" Her daughter's features remained unchanged, but her shift in posture said everything.

"I suppose I am just agonizing over something I thought of as I was falling asleep." The girl declared in Szafirian, crossing her arms and leaning on the table. "It is funny, how such trivial things can take root as I close my eyes, especially so soon after my lovely conversation with Aunt Celestia..." Luna took a seat beside the girl, still resting that comforting palm upon her shoulder. Rather than ask immediately and risk cutting Orzel off, she instead allowed the girl to continue. "While I am pleased with my accommodations here, I nonetheless want to leave, to explore more... This is not new... What is new is where I would like to explore." Gradually the room around them flickered, for a moment or two, revealing to Luna a rocky outcropping near an open tropical beach. "I desire, and I cannot believe I am saying this, a cave. A literal cave, beside the sea, perhaps even underneath the water... In it I would construct a great structure, where I would preside over all. I have felt similarly before, in my desire for a company headquarters... I fear this is another aspect of my physiology I had not previously known about."

"I believe that is precisely what it is." Luna agreed, scooting the chair closer so that she might hug the girl. "Your ancestors inhabited islands and coastal regions, even your Empire was a global sea power on the world you left behind. The sea and the islands that populated it are your natural habitat..." Orzel nodded at that, still skimming over the book with half interest. "What you may not be aware of is the extent to what that truly means in our world." The woman stated simply. "Earth Walkers are born with innate abilities to cultivate crops, they are drawn to the soil and the plow... Pegasi and Spell-Casters likewise are born with instinctual desires to fly, or to make use of their magic respectively."

"You are a dragon, a very powerful dragon, both in influence, in wealth, and in raw strength. You desire what we can safely term a 'lair', a monument to your achievement... Just as most children your age might desire an apartment, or their first automobile. Somewhere free from the machinations of others, as with the Castle, or wherever it is you now reside. You wish to be the undisputed master of your domain." Luna conjured her magic, and in a few moments two large porcelain teacups manifested themselves on the table. "Drink this, let us chat for a moment. Mother to daughter."

Orzel displayed only the faintest of smiles, picking up one of the teacups and taking a sip. It wasn't 'real', per se, but that wasn't really a bad thing. As it was born of Luna's magic, it carried certain calming qualities that its counterpart in reality would be lacking. The matter Orzel had brought up, that of her instinctive urge to return to the sea, let alone construct a lair, was troubling. It wasn't unexpected, granted, an realistically only troubled Luna on account of what it represented. It was yet another reminder that in just a few short months, her daughter would turn seventeen...

One year closer to being old enough to assume her full powers as one of Equestria's Sovereigns, among other things. More importantly it would represent another step closer to her achieving her full strength as a dragon. Information on what that would entail was scarce, as dragons were by nature a very insular people, and even the combined minds of the Canterlot Draconic Institute couldn't be totally certain. The basic understanding was that when Orzel came of age she would feel the full brunt of her various new instincts. They would moderate after a few days, but if they were already so strong now, how much more influence would they hold over Luna's daughter as the eighteenth anniversary of her birth drew near...

Yes, Luna supposed their lesson on dream magic would be delayed, especially considering that Orzel was now seeking out graduate level material... Or perhaps she already was, as the book on the table was a fairly esoteric publication, typically found only in and among the libraries of the most prestigious Mage Colleges in the world.

'The Collated Texts and Assorted Languages of Ancient Draconic Island Dwellers as They Pertain to Modern Enchanting Philosophy: Volume XVI'... It was a book that Luna was well familiar with, as it contained the lexicon of the Szafirian language which she'd first consulted when learning to communicate with her daughter. It was, suffice to say, an exceedingly long and dry publication. Luna smiled sadly as she watched her daughter run a finger along a line of text, another realization coming over her.

In addition to her birthday, before that would come the anniversary of her arrival to Equestria. A date which Luna hoped wouldn't be as emotionally damaging as she feared it might. This was typically the time in a young academic's when their mind turned to thoughts of higher learning. Even if Orzel returned to mainland Equestria before then, Luna suspected she would only have a year or so remaining before her little girl began applying to various universities...

Whether it was out of an instinctual imperative to seek out a cave by the sea, or a letter of acceptance from the Ognyagrad Polytechnic Academy for the Arcane Arts in the Dragonlands, one way or another, they'd be one year closer to when Luna would likely be forced to watch the wounded bird she'd taken in as her own finally leave the nest, as if sending her away the first time wasn't hard enough... This made it all the more imperative in the moment for Luna to make every second count, and so she refocused on the present...

"I do not want you think I am 'making excuses', I know the importance of why I must remain here... Even if I desire to return home, if only to visit. You do not think I am trying to excuse myself, do you?" Orzel stated before sipping again from her cup, Luna responded with a simple compassionate shake of her head. "There is more..." The girl quietly reached up and brushed back her headscarf, revealing a marked change to the girl's horns, which by now appeared considerably more robust.

"It goes beyond the visible..." Orzel added somewhat nervously. "I know I am naturally stronger, and I have felt the effects of that strength before, but... Not quite like this. I have not felt such vitality until now. I feel power... Not just powerful, but... Raw arcane power itself." While her words were calm, Luna could see a distinct anxiety in her daughter's eyes. "In spite of my meditation, I keep wanting more... More books, more tools, more... Everything." The girl shook her head. "It is becoming difficult to ignore... What if... What if I am unable to stop myself? What if I do something wrong, or hurt someone, even unintentionally?"

"I know my dearest Spike has since developed prodigious strength, what if that is my fate also? What if I lose control, and become a threat to my own people, as you once were?" Orzel asked uneasily... Luna hugged her daughter again, quite tightly this time, wincing as her last words cut exceptionally deep. She also couldn't help but notice that the girl had referred to Twilight's assistant as 'my dearest Spike'... That was a conversation for later, however. "Forgive me, Mother... I did not mean..." Orzel trailed off.

"I know... I know you meant no offense, my sweet Daughter..." The Princess responded warmly, and Orzel returned the hug, trembling slightly. "You care greatly for our people, for their safety and well being, else you would not have undertaken the formation of the Civil Defense Agency... You would not languish willingly, as you do now, wherever you find yourself." The Princess patted her daughter several times on the back, then gently kissed the top of her head. "I know you would never allow yourself to do them harm, even under the influences of the most powerful instincts." Orzel sighed, nodding with a visible effort.

"All of these worries came from a fleeting desire to find a cave?" Luna asked, the girl nodded slightly as she relinquished the hug... With a heavy sigh, she pulled her scarf back up to cover her head, though she needed to make minor allowances to grant her horns proper clearance. Any visible sign of emotion quickly faded from view, much to Luna's dismay. "You must realize that these feelings of angst are just a part of growing up. They will pass, or gradually become easier to manage, after you have come of age. Of course, by then you will be in a position to actually acquire a lair of your own, and I suspect that will help greatly..."

"That day cannot come soon enough..." Orzel stated dejectedly, crossing her arms and looking at the table. "At present, I suppose there is only one thing I can do... If I cannot bring myself to a 'lair', I must bring the lair to me." The dream around them began to shift, to Luna's surprise, and gradually her eyes were drawn upwards.

The vaulted atrium ceiling was gradually being replaced by a great glass dome... Above the dome there was no sky, but rather the shimmering dark blue depths of the ocean, complete with small schools of fish that glowed with green and blue bioluminesence. The library itself became darker as a result of the boundless, though it was now illuminated by small hovering lanterns, which bore striking resemblance to bronze diving helmets. Where before the model ships had been the only sign of any nautical aesthetic, now the very walls and bookshelves took on the aspect of something Luna imagined she would find at sea.

Dark polished oak, accented by brass and bronze ornamentation, even a large red flag that now hung upon a nearby wall. The red flag bore a white dragon, perched upon an anchor, which Luna recognized as the Szafirian Naval Jack. Other flags and penets gradually materialized, hailing from around Equus, all of them having some connection to the sea. Beside the large Szafirian Naval Jack was the distinct ensign of the Equestrian Navy, a banner of blue and white horizontal stripes, whose pattern bore striking resemblance to the recently introduced 'telnyashka'. A large white monolith, approximately seven feet in height, stood atop a pedestal nearby.

When all was said and done, the room more resembled something out of one of Orzel's ever favored Science Fiction novels, particularly a story regarding a mysterious nameless captain that sailed some twenty-thousand leagues beneath the waves in a submersible of his own design, waging an undeclared war upon those that dwelt above...

"You are growing more adept in your dreamsmithing abilities..." Luna complimented, nudging one of the floating helmet-esque lamps away from her face. Looking at Orzel, she could tell that the girl was already growing more comfortable in the new dream environment. In that moment Luna was hit by an odd train of thought...

Orzel was a being of the sea, and one day she would hold the power to move the moon and stars themselves, effectively controlling the tides, and guiding those that made their lives upon the sea by starlight. While Orzel might not have given credence to such notions, Luna on the other hand couldn't help but be struck by the thought that perhaps it was fate Orzel had come to be her daughter. The sea could be unpredictable at times, prone to gentle calms or fits of tempestuous passion, just as Orzel was prone to fits of inspiration or emotional turmoil.

Casting a sidelong glance at the monolith in its place of prominence, Luna had to wonder if powers greater than even she might've had something to do with it. The moment passed in silence, and just like that the Princess cleared her throat.

"Are you feeling up to beginning our lesson now, or do you require further time?" She asked, looking curiously at her daughter. To her surprise, and great inner pride, the girl closed her book and rose from her seat to place it in its designated spot on a nearby shelf. She returned to the seat, palms folded in her lap, nodding to her Mother in silent acceptance. Luna knew there was still so much going on in that little head of hers, but at last she was finally coming to a point where a single stray thought did not completely derail her emotions... They took her on detours, but every little crisis was no longer the end of the world. "Very well..." Luna rose from her seat, conjuring a blackboard and approaching it swiftly. "Our subject for tonight is-" The woman stopped abruptly as she felt her physical body being jostled by someone. "Of course..." She groaned. "Forgive me, Orzel, it would appear someone is summoning me to the waking world. I shall try to return soon, but should you wake before I do... Sleep well, my child."

Prince Blueblood, freshman Councilman of the City of Canterlot, puffed tiredly on a cigarette whilst leaning back in his padded leather chair. His desk was strewn with the particulars of half a dozen bills, most of which he held in little regard. They were necessary, of course, ranging from budget proposals to research grants, but hardly anything to write home about. Even now, he was enduring an ongoing filibuster from one Admiral Weigh Anchor, come before the council to request a diversion of funds from a contract for a 'modern' dive bomber aircraft to begin construction of a new 'Sol-Class Battleship'. Blueblood wasn't one for the military, so he'd widely zoned out, ruminating on the nature of the chamber he now inhabited.

The atmosphere within the once vaunted chamber of the National Council was stuffy, laden with the scent of dozens of smoldering cigars, pipes, and cigarettes, which mingled with aging paint, tarnished brass fixtures, and printer ink... It was a noxious miasma, that seemed ill befitting the various grand oil portraits lining the domed semi-circular chamber. The Council Chamber was situated in the heart of one of Equestria's eldest structures, and while the history was fascinating, it also came at a cost to comfort. In addition to the swirling soup of stale smokey air, there was a distinct lack of any sort of modern ventilation, save opening a few of the large windows at the rear of the chamber. If only those great council members that had once come before, immortalized upon the canvas, could hear, or smell, what their place of work had become... They would turn away in disgust.

Even so, Blueblood was infinitely pleased with himself to be sitting among the 'New Bloods'. Even if things were tense along party lines, even if debates still dragged on ad infinitum for no real reason, at least with a departure from the old quasi-single party system there existed the possibility of debate. Blueblood cast a brief glance to a black and white photograph, resting atop a small shelf mounted to the front of his desk, allowing a small smile to form on his features. Among the various personal reasons he'd sought this role, ranging from a restoration of his good name to a simple desire to serve, the top of that list would forever be dominated by the smiling beautiful woman gazing back beyond the glass of the picture frame. Rarity would by all accounts make a fine Princess, a far better member of the royal family than he'd ever been, and those generous qualities were rubbing off on him... He wouldn't have changed that for anything.

It was his thoughts of Rarity, and how she would likely chide him for his inattentiveness, that ultimately snapped him back into the moment. Picking up the papers pertaining to the current issue on the table, he flipped through the details while barely suppressing a yawn. Between the heat and the smell, it was a wonder more of his colleagues hadn't gradually dozed off in their seats. Among the various boring details given by the Admiral and his fellows in the Navy, Blueblood noticed a copy of a neatly typed missive, printed upon the official stationary of the crown and bearing a raised seal, which depicted a fearsome dragon wearing a crown, clutching a wrench in one talon and a quill in the other.

'In response to the assertions of the Senior Naval Staff that development of a sufficient Dive Bomber is of secondary importance, I, Crown-Princess Orzel, do hereby strenuously advise against the aforementioned proposal. My reasons are as follows:

In the event that it is argued that the shift is a matter of cost, I remind the Council that the price of a single Sol-Class Battleship far exceeds the cost of a squadron of sufficient dive bombers. While our rivals at sea do not at present possess aircraft carriers, they do possess land based aircraft capable of carrying out dive bombing attacks, and undoubtedly the capacity to create aircraft carriers of their own in the future. Dive bombers present a far greater threat to a battleship and its expansive crew than an enemy battleship. Aircraft can be easily replaced, and while a man may be lost with his aircraft, his entire ship will not fall with him. Battleships on the other hand, including the lives of those serving aboard them, will force all hands into the sea should they sink.

Our sailors are one of this nation's greatest resources. They are cunning, brave, loyal, and most of all... Individuals. They are our fathers, our mothers, our brothers and sisters. We must prepare to safeguard these courageous men and women in times of peace, so that in times of war we ensure the vast majority return to fight another day. The cost in Bits is secondary to this, the price in human lives. These people have volunteered to serve, volunteered to lay down their lives for us, so that we can remain free. We cannot be so careless with their precious gift.

In the event that the shift in funds is argued as a matter of tradition, I remind the Council that while the Equestrian Navy has a long standing history of tradition, the preservation of tradition is not its function. That function is the continued protection of Equestria and her interests, be they at sea, on land, or in the air, as efficiently as possible. That is the only tradition that should be of consequence, a tradition of loyal service and protection of our noble motherland, regardless of what ship types carry out the duty with which they are charged. If the Admiral insists upon following tradition, perhaps he should take ESS Magnus into combat against a Naval Air Squadron, and allow fate to decide which way of thinking prevails.

There is still a place within the Modern Navy for traditional capital ships, that of supporting ground operations with coastal bombardment. Unfortunately their role as ships of the line of battle, as envisioned by Admiral Weigh Anchor and his well meaning cohorts, is fast slipping into obsolescence. They will be supplanted by the aircraft carrier, the only question is whether or not we are willing to waste millions in taxpayer Bits before we realize that fact. At present our motherland holds the advantage, we hold the monopoly on Naval Aviation, and we must make use of that advantage wisely so that we may defend against all threats, foreign and domestic, lest we be overtaken on the international stage by other devastating, less liberty-minded, powers.

Blueblood hummed thoughtfully as he skimmed the letter, knowing that his cousin had a rather personal interest in this particular issue. ESS Sokol was for all intents the only monument to her Birth Mother in the world, and the Prince suspected that was why she was fighting so hard to preserve the Dive Bomber Aircraft initiative. While she made some valid points, there were few states in the known world that could match Equestria at sea. Of these few states, even fewer were diplomatically hostile to Equestria. For now, anyway... The odds of Equestria ever losing the domination of the world's ocean were slim, and yet... There were still vast parts of the world left unexplored.

The known continents produced sufficient resources that exploration had widely stopped altogether, outside of a few odd expeditions to distant uncharted lands and the Western Unknown. What sort of dangers lurked in the unseen reaches of the world, what nations of unknown power lingered or lurked in the shadows... Were they powers that could rival, or even surpass, Equestria? Then there were the threats in the known world to consider. The Dragonlands, the increasingly unstable Griffon Empire, perhaps even dangers unseen by the public eye.

Blueblood knew there was something going on behind closed doors, a threat that he was being deliberately kept in the dark about. If he required evidence of that fact, he need look no further than the missive of his cousin. Officially she'd departed Canterlot on account of the cold not agreeing with her, yet it was shaping up to be a warm Spring in Canterlot. Why then had she not returned, and to where had she gone to begin with? His aunts became evasive of his questions, his cousin Cadence equally so... It was obvious that for some reason, beyond his current knowledge, Orzel had been sequestered somewhere.

As she was still communicating via missive, and Blueblood was certain from the word choice that it was indeed Orzel sending the messages, it stood to reason that Canterlot, or perhaps even Equestria as a whole, was no longer safe... It would have to be a matter of extreme importance for his aunt to keep her daughter hidden away for so long. He likewise had to assume that by now Orzel was well aware of the threat facing Equestria, and perhaps she had alluded to that fact in her missive... 'Threats foreign and domestic'... What domestic threat could she possibly see the Navy handling? Civil War? Surely things weren't that bad, were they?

Blueblood took another drag on his cigarette, eying his various colleagues seated in a great semi-circle around the central pedestal of the Council chamber. Black Crowns eyed Nobles, Nobles eyed Black Crowns, each with a clearly evident distrust. The man shook his head... No, while Equestria was now dividing itself into clear factions, it was unlikely they'd progressed to a point of near Civil War. Perhaps the phrase 'devastating powers' was another clue? Devastating as in another Discord Incident? A sea monster? Some unspeakable ancient horror? He had to assume that his Cousin and his Aunt Luna were better appraised than he was, and he would be wise to heed their counsel accordingly... Even so, he couldn't decide entirely on their say so either.

"I would like to speak on the matter." Blueblood spoke up when it became acceptable to do so, crushing his cigarette in a fairly empty ashtray. Senior Councilman Fancy Pants smacked his gavel upon his desk, conceding the floor to Blueblood, who quietly leafed through a number of other papers on his desk. "Admiral Weigh Anchor, can you remind me of the base price of a Sol-Class Battleship?" The Admiral, who sat in his dress uniform at a oaken table near the central pedestal, quietly picked up a manilla folder and evidently skimmed through hit, no doubt searching for the same answers as Blueblood was. Whether the sweat on his brow came from nervousness or simply the state of the room, Blueblood couldn't decide, but he quickly took a sip of water.

"Approximately one-hundred-million Bits, your Highness, give or take a few hundred-thousand..." Weigh Anchor responded after settling on a page, lifting his eyes to meet Blueblood's gaze. The Prince nodded appreciatively, adjusting the tie of his blue pinstripe suit before lacing his fingers together.

While generally the Black Crowns were pro-Military, when it came to matters of funding they tended to err on the side of frugality. The budget allotted to the dive bomber program would be around five million Bits, for the purposes of research, prototype development, and creation or sufficient modification of production facilities. Normally it would be an obvious choice, but every person in that room knew that the ten million Bit budget could possibly be exceeded due to unforeseen events. By comparison, barring occasional fleet wide upgrades and refits, for all intents and purposes the Sol-Class had finished its development phase, yet even that wouldn't preserve it from going over budget.

"Is this taking into account the recent increase in steel prices?" Blueblood asked, the Admiral pursed his lips and sighed before shaking his head. "Do you have the figures for what this new ship will cost taking that into account?" Weigh Anchor nodded, once again flipping through his papers and come to a stop... To Blueblood's surprise, the Admiral's entire expression went blank, his features going pale. "Admiral?" Weigh Anchor looked up. "The figure, please."

"Three hundred and fifty million Bits, your Highness." The Admiral stated, to his credit he was able to quickly reassert his composure. "This is, of course, assuming that prices of steel continue to remain at this lofty price, which seems unlikely." He added with a returning sense of confidence. "Compared to some of the funds the Council has approved for other branches of our Government, such as the Nocturne Agency's recent 'Covert Defense Program', I think even the expanded price is a worthy investment." There was quiet murmuring throughout the room, but Fancy Pants smacked the gavel, calling everyone back to order... Blueblood still had the floor. "With all due respect to our men working in the Naval Air arm, it's well established practice for battleships to take priority." The Prince hummed again, glancing at the missive from his cousin.

"I see, and for the benefit of those of us who aren't well appraised of the fleet's composition, how many battleships of varying classes do we have in commission?" Blueblood was genuinely curious, as he rarely took an interest in the matters of defense, another reason he was inclined to believe his cousin, far better acquainted with such things as she was. Weigh Anchor didn't need to consult his papers this time, and instead reclined in his chair.

"Of the varying classes, fourteen so far, this would be the fifteenth." The Admiral admitted, to which Blueblood nodded again. If each ship cost one hundred million bits to complete, though Blueblood was certain there were other classes of varying price ranges, then Equestria was already invested into her battleship fleet for over a billion Bits. That wasn't even accounting for maintenance, which was a consistent cost requirement even during peacetime. "For comparison, the Griffon Empire currently deploys ten battleships of the Elster-class, and two or three of older classes. They're working up an additional two." The Admiral added somewhat hopefully...

If the Elster-class cost even half as much as the Sol-class, it was no surprise to Blueblood just why the Empire was in such dire financial straits. Battleships only made up a small contingent of a Navy, even Blueblood knew that, but that was all the more reason to be frugal with them... What was more, Blueblood's mind wandered to the specifications laid down in the proposed dive bomber program, specifically the aircraft's range... Which, if successful, would easily exceed one thousand miles overall. A weapon that could strike at such range, while only costing ostensibly one tenth of a battleship to develop... It boggled the mind.

"So we at present outnumber the Griffons, not counting those ships you yourself said are still 'working up'. By contrast, the program you propose to delay costs a tenth of what your asking for in a normal market, and even less now..." Blueblood concluded simply, earning a hesitant nod from Weigh Anchor. "The same program that would give our aircraft carrier, the only such ship of its kind in the world, the ability to strike a target well beyond the range of any existing naval rifle, with virtual impunity?" Weigh Anchor gave another nod. "I think I've heard all I need to hear. I concede the remainder of my time."

With that Blueblood withdrew a fresh cigarette from his pocket and lit up, taking a slow drag as he listened idly to a few more Councilors asking the Admiral about his proposal. Looking about the room, however, Blueblood could see his examination convinced a good deal of the Black Crowns that the dive bomber program made the most fiscal sense. When the time came to vote, the motion to divert funds was soundly defeated.

One Councilman, who coincidentally happened to represent the province that was home to Neighport News Naval Shipyard, subsequently put forward a motion for a contract to build three additional Sokol-class Aircraft Carriers, and to begin work on a ship design branch dedicated to Naval Aviation. He cited numerous reasons to assure the council it wasn't bias on his part, one of which being Blueblood's questioning of Admiral Weigh Anchor, another being Princess Orzel's 'Carrier Missive', a copy of which had been included with every file on the topic. If Equestria was going to spend hundreds of millions of taxpayer Bits on new ships, they would be ships that didn't already exist in such vast numbers as battleships. While Blueblood doubted that it was actually the result of his questions, he found himself nonetheless pleased at having won...

Where before he'd been skeptical of his Aunt and Cousin's strange obsession with aeroplanes and ships that carried them, Blueblood now found himself agreeing with the idea of more carriers. As they neared the end of that day's session, three further carriers had been given the go ahead, marking the first such time a Capital ship other than a battleship had been given priority by the Council. After much back and forth, it was decided that they were to be named 'ESS Archer', 'ESS Somnambula', and 'ESS Silver' respectively... Each representing great explorers or warriors, much like Sokol had been named.

All was shaping up to be as usual as the clock gradually ticked past midday, and that was when all Tartarus broke loose. The doors to the chamber abruptly burst open at the hands of men in uniforms with odd small hexagonal color patterns, helmets, and balaclavas. All bore insignia and patches Blueblood had never seen before, as well as distinctive light-blue and white telnyashkas. The only thing he recognized were their rank insignia, revealing them to likely be an offshoot of the Lunar Marines.

Each was armed with what looked to be a pump-action shotgun or one of those new 'PM-72As' the DAC had just voted to adopt as Equestria's standard SMG. They also wore 'OUBCs', another piece of equipment the DAC had voted to adopt as standard. With great efficiently and heavily thudding boots, many of them moved to quickly close the windows. They were quickly urging Council members away from the windows, well... More 'shoving' than urging.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Fancy Pants demanded of a man bearing a Major's insignia, who seemed to be preoccupied with directing his men to secure the room. Only after the shades were drawn and the doors protected by soldiers did he acknowledge the Senior Councilman. "Major, what gives you the right to enter this chamber and hold us prisoner!" Blueblood could see the gears whirring in the heads of the various Council members, Black Crown's and Nobles alike... Had he been wrong in his estimation about Equestria's stability, was this a coups on the part of his Aunt Luna?

"We have orders to secure the Council building and initiate an immediate Code Seven Security Lockdown." The Major stated dutifully, adjusting the straps of his helmet while the sounds of more Marines echoed throughout the building. "Forty minutes ago a Code Seven alert was issued by the Palace garrison, the Nocturne Agency is therefore assuming responsibility for your safety for the duration of the alert... Your compliance is greatly appreciated." Without another word he quietly approached Blueblood, examining him up and down before clearing his throat.

"I need you authenticate security code Tango Alpha, sir." The Major demanded, the Prince blinked in befuddlement... The Security Codes were a recent addition to his daily life, which he assumed pertained to that threat he wasn't supposed to know about, though he hadn't taken the time to really memorize them all. "Sir." The Major reached for his sidearm. "Authenticate your code, or I will be forced to place you under arrest."

"Tango Alpha..." Blueblood repeated quietly, frantically racking his brain, until finally an answer burst forth. "Baker Whiskey?" He more asked than stated, but the Major removed his hand from the weapon regardless. "What's going on, Major? I'm ordering you to tell me." The Major looked thoughtful, glancing around at the other Council members before gesturing for Blueblood to lean closer. The Prince did so, allowing him to more clearly see the name patch on his uniform, identifying the man as 'Key'.

"That's Highly Classified information, sir. I'm not authorized to say." Major Key stated bluntly, once again peering around to ensure that anyone that might be listening was well out of earshot. Blueblood narrowed his eyes at the man.

"On my authority as a member of the Crown, you will tell me!" The man decreed sternly, prompting the Major to sigh and step a little closer, inclining his body to make it even harder for someone to potentially overhear what he was saying.

"Approximately six months ago the Agency became aware of an existential threat to Equestria..." Key explained, Blueblood tried to appear surprised, but this only confirmed his notion that all was not well in his homeland. "The threat is capable of deploying agents that can assume the form of people or objects... Kidnapping a person and replacing them. As of thirteen-hundred hours, three such agents were apprehended attempting to access the Eastern Guard Tower at the palace. We believe there may be more hiding among the Council." The man leaned back from Blueblood, his features as inscrutable as marble...

The Prince couldn't hope to match that feat, as he was both dumbstruck and horrified at what it all meant. The departure of his cousin wasn't to do with the weather at all, it had to be ensure continuity of government, in the event these 'agents' attempted to replace the Royal Family... He had to wonder just how far this threat extended, just how many agents there were, and where they might be? Had he interacted with them and not even noticed? Major Key shook him out of his reverie while the other Marines began to gather the Council members and arrange them in alphabetical order.

"We would've been here sooner, but we had to ensure our response teams hadn't been infiltrated before deploying. Sir, I realize this is a tense situation, but I need you to remain calm..." Key stated simply, and Blueblood responded by taking a long ragged puff on his cigarette. "We've sealed the building to prevent any escape, but until we conduct our search we can't be sure who can or can't be trusted. Remain near my men at all times, if we come close to unmasking an infiltrator they may attempt to do you harm... Are you familiar with the operation of a firearm?" The man asked, Blueblood offered a hesitant nod... He'd been to a range once or twice, mostly as part of his campaign effort. "You may need this should one of them attempt to take you hostage."

The Major reached once more to his sidearm, drawing it from the holster and handing it to Blueblood. The Prince took the weapon, then exhaled the cloud of smoke, slightly calmer now, and again nodded in agreement with the Major. He set the weapon on his desk, ensuring its safety was still on, and that its barrel was directed away from any people, just in case.

Picking up the picture frame on his desk, a nasty feeling welled up in his gut... He wanted to believe that Rarity wasn't party to this, that she was everything he believed her to be, but... There was the time line to consider, they'd met around six months ago, after all... No. Blueblood was certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the Rarity he knew was very real. Straightening his tie, the man leaned back in his chair and watched the various indignant officials gradually calm down... It was going to be a rough day.

Director Orcus stood in silently behind the one way mirror, wordlessly adjusting the collar of his Lunar Marine's officer's tunic. Even now the barest amount of pressure on his neck could stir the pain that lingered in the wake of the assassination attempt. The attempt on his life had left him with a great deal of pain, especially when breathing, and failed to be healed entirely, even using his considerable magic of a decidedly gray persuasion. Every breath he took was regulated by an enchanted respirator, one of the dozens of designs to have come to the Agency in his absence. It wheezed steadily, calmly, a construct of black rubber to contrast his pasty white complexion.

The poisoned cigarette hadn't just left his lungs in a poor state, the noxious fumes had also eaten away at his left eye, which had since been removed to prevent an infection. The black leather eye-patch, combined with his more recent shift towards martial attire and the peaked cap he now sported, gave him a far more sinister appearance than he'd ever enjoyed before. Most people might've found that disheartening, but not Orcus... He was now regarded by many as 'Orcus the Unkillable', and he found a mixture of his reputation and his appearance tended to prove useful when interrogating certain individuals...

With his solitary eye he observed one of three Changeling infiltrators, captured whilst attempting to intrude upon Princess Orzel's private chambers... Two of them had been identified as trusted members of the staff, whilst the third was a relative newcomer. That the two men had been armed with pistols, taken from a pair of unconscious Royal Guards, as well as their apparent drive to enter the Eastern Tower left little doubt in his mind just what their goal had been... The kidnapping or probable assassination of Crown-Princess Orzel.

Why else would they so brazenly draw attention to themselves, unless they knew their task would be a one way ticket? Taking a slightly deeper breath through the wheezing mask upon his lower face, it took all of his strength as an officer not to draw his side arm and eliminate the trio then and there... It was only the fact that these three malcontents represented the single largest intelligence coups since the discovery of the Changeling threat that spared their lives... For the moment. Typically he harbored little personal anger towards spies, be they from the standard foreign agencies or other entities, they were doing a little appreciated service to their various states or organizations, just as he did. These three, however, seemed to have been intending to do harm to one of his Sovereigns...

Not only that, but a Sovereign that also happened to be the child of two people whom he considered his family. Needless to say, he was rather protective of such people. That these changelings seemed capable of such a heinous thing as to do harm to a child, his pseudo-niece no less, demonstrated just how ruthless the enemy was... How ruthless he would need to be if they were to defeat the Changeling Menace, once and for all. Orders had already been relayed to Site R to increase the number of guards protecting the Princess and conduct a complete sweep of the island...

No one was to enter or leave their quarters until every single inch of soil and speck of sand was cleared. Ostensibly this was under the guise of an escaped lab animal, but even now it was obvious that the current policy of secrecy had reached its end. Changeling infiltrators were now being captured by the bushel, and nearly every single one of them belonged to the same hive, known officially know as 'The Violets', on account of their affinity for the color purple.

Of the forty living specimens currently in Agency custody, thirty-eight were 'Violets'... They'd been attempting to sew chaos for months, very nearly succeeding several weeks ago with the derailment at Rose Township. The threat had grown beyond the Agency's ability to conceal, the public had to be made aware, had to know that the military was already taking steps to protect them... It would mean chaos of the highest sort, and a likely wellspring of paranoia, but perhaps Equestrians were right to be paranoid... The Mole still eluded capture, but Orcus was tightening the noose... Sooner or later, they'd find the traitor.

"Where are they!?" The furiously familiar voice of Princess Luna boomed from the outer hall, even with the extensive soundproofing that lined each wall within the headquarters of the Nocturne Agency. "We demand to see these blasted curs at once! Do not keep Us waiting!" The Director turned and started towards the door, but stopped as a rather harried looking pegasus secretary opened it, the Princess not far behind. That she was using the Royal 'We' was troubling...

"Director, Princess Luna to see you..." The woman announced, casting a brief glance at the one-way and the Changeling seated beyond it. Orcus only nodded in acceptance, and with that Luna barged into the room, leaving the secretary to close the door behind her. The chamber was small enough as it was, at least by his standards, and it only became more crowded with the Princess's presence. The man didn't complain, of course, as there were far more pressing issues to be concerned with.

"They tried to teleport through your daughter's door, wound up tripping the Alarm Ward she left..." The Director stated distantly as he and the Princess both stared into the interrogation chamber. His voice was modulated, sounding deeper and vaguely synthetic, a feature he'd requested for added gravitas when he spoke. "Palace QRF responded within acceptable time parameters, we're securing all other possible target locations accordingly." He added with the faintest hint of positivity, though he doubted it gave Luna much comfort. He could see the anger fuming beneath the calm veneer, she seemed exceptionally uncomfortable just to be standing there... Orcus could understand... In just one afternoon, every fear the woman had endured since her daughter's departure had been validated. "They insist they didn't have help from an inside source, but we won't know for sure until the full investigation concludes." Luna scoffed at that.

"The Agency has yet to discover the whereabouts of our missing artifacts, forgive me if We do not share your optimism that the truth shall be revealed." She grunted with thinly veiled contempt, though Orcus suspected it likely wasn't directed at him. The Princess had good reason to be upset with the Nocturne Agency regardless... The failures of the Agency to secure its artifacts and vet its agents had Piercing Gaze off chasing leads regarding Coronel Trepatroncos and Fuse on the East Coast, and Orcus was sure that was also having an effect on Luna's mental stability. That wasn't important at the moment, only serving to remind the Director that his beloved Agency had sustained several black eyes. "What else have they said?"

"We haven't questioned them in depth yet... I wanted to wait until you and Princess Celestia were present." Orcus explained, but Luna seemed to hesitate at the mention of her sister. In truth, Orcus wanted Celestia there because the woman tended to be a stabilizing presence for her sister, and proceeding with Luna in such an agitated state was bound to present several issues. "Should we not have your sister here as well?" The Princess appeared thoughtful, but ultimately shook her head.

"Sister has her own matters of state to deal with. There has been renewed tension between the Griffon Imperial government and the Iron Blood movement which needs to be monitored..." The woman explained, sighing through her nose. Her earlier anger was subsiding, likely the result of seeing the figure beyond the glass thoroughly secured in irons. "There is also the issue of appearances to maintain. Her absence from Afternoon court would be dearly noticed, while mine is virtually expected."

"Very well..." Orcus agreed. "I suppose she can listen to the recordings." The man stated, ensuring that his olive colored uniform was well in order, then more properly seating his leather eye patch. He wasn't quite sure what technique he would use on the infiltrator, this first meeting would prove a decent baseline. The subject in question was the quietest of the group, the most reserved and least cooperative, and that lead Orcus to believe he was the superior of the other two... Getting him to talk was therefore more important than the others.

Without much fanfare, the Director opened the door leading into the first interrogation chamber. Like the outer viewing area, its walls were dark gray slabs of concrete. A solitary metal lamp dangled from a wire at the center of the room, swaying ever so slightly in the breeze caused by a ceiling vent. Beneath this lamp resided a simple metal table, populated by two steel chairs. One was bolted to the floor, and currently occupied by the lanky looking fellow with the unnerving compound eyes of a Changeling, his greasy hair slicked back to give him almost the appearance of a dragonfly. This man, identifying himself as Odonata, wore an orange jumpsuit, and was currently shackled to the table. The man perked up upon hearing the door open, his insectoid wings fluttering slightly on his back, his gaunt features growing impassive.

"You've supplied your true name as Odonata, not 'Green Thumb', as you claimed it to be within your employment records?" Orcus confirmed, quietly approaching the table and taking a seat in the chair opposite Odonata. The prisoner nodded slightly, his eyes flicking about the confining space, though more often than not they were looking down at the floor. "Let's begin with something simple, Mister Odo. For what purpose were you sent after Princess Orzel? Kidnapping or assassination?" Odonata looked at Orcus as if the Director had three heads and, after a few moments, took on an aspect of supreme indignation.

"Assassination?" He asked with what sounded like genuine outrage, but Orcus supposed Changelings could fake just about anything with enough practice. "We are many things, but we are not assassins... I had no interest in entering that tower today." Orcus leaned back in his seat, making no effort to hide his skepticism from the prisoner. "You will undoubtedly test us, you will see that Mythra differs from myself and my colleague Zygoptera. This is because she comes from a different hive. My orders are to prevent a conflict between Equestria and my people, something I feared miss Mythra would inadvertently cause had I not intervened."

"Intervened... Is that what you call your assault on two Equestrian soldiers?" Orcus asked bluntly, then watched as Odonata closed his eyes, pursing his lips... Clearly he had no response. "As for these tests you mention, what's to say they might come back different on account of you being male and Mythra being female?" Once again Odonata seemed to lack an answer, so Orcus opted to press another topic. "If what you're saying is true, if Mythra isn't part of your hive and you had no intention of sneaking into the Eastern Tower, what purpose did she have for doing so?" Odonata looked about the room again, as if searching for some unseen threat, then back at the floor. "You want to stop a war between your people and mine, I'd recommend you start by cooperating." There was another sigh.

"Almost a year or so ago, our hive-mind was invaded by something we had never encountered before... Only the Queen was aware of it, at first." Odonata explained solemnly, his eyes settling upon Orcus finally. "It flooded her consciousness, or something to that effect... The details have been kept from many of us." The Director raised an eyebrow, though he already had a suspicion as to what event the prisoner was referring to. "The Queen eventually died, and this entity took hold within her daughter... We have discovered similar happenings in the various other hives we've thus far encountered." The Director cast a look to the floor himself, as he suspected the prisoner was doing more than just evading his gaze.

"Our mission was to find agents of other hives working in Canterlot and make contact with them, to propose our hives work together to find a solution." Odonata stated emphatically, once again meeting Orcus' eyes with a look of sincerity. "Mythra's hive apparently believes that your Princess Orzel is directly responsible for the crisis, and I suspect she intended to confront the girl on that matter. I attempted to convince her to stop, when that failed I thought I could at least prevent her from doing something drastic, such as harming the child..." Orcus hummed again, drumming his fingers against the table while Odonata leaned back in his seat. "I will admit, these actions weren't taken out of some moral imperative... I was merely following the orders given to me." The man looked back at the floor, then up at the ceiling, there was something obviously bothering him.

"So there are more agents operating in Canterlot..." Orcus stated simply, Odonata nodded. "Looking for this 'mysterious' entity." Another nod. "You seem to be out of sorts, Mister Odo... Why is that?" Odonata looked briefly at Orcus, then at the window behind him, before staring off into space.

"There is something here..." He stated quietly, as if frightened someone might hear him. "I sense it in the hive-mind... Mythra and Zygoptera obviously, but..." The prisoner looked back at Orcus, shivering slightly. "There are others... One is trying to reach me, trying to reach the others... We are right above it now..." Orcus cast a look at the floor, Odonata had no way of knowing that the chamber resided above the morgue, where the two Exo-Changeling corpses were being kept for continued study. "The longer I sit here, the harder it is for me to keep it out... Out of my... Head..." Fascination welled up within Orcus, to think that even in their deceased state the two corpses could still influence the living? It hadn't occurred to him as being possible.

"Where are your other agents?" Orcus asked, leaning forward with fingers steepled. "Where in the Badlands is your hive located?" Odonata didn't respond, quietly retracting from the table. "Tell me and I'll see about moving you away from here..." The prisoner once again refused to answer, and so Orcus took on a far less amiable expression. "What do your people want with the artifacts?" Odonata raised an eyebrow. "Artifacts of this Agency were stolen from a secure facility, and sources indicate they've been sold to a Changeling asset... What is their final destination? What purpose do you have for them?" Odonata's face went pale, or paler than it already was before, his eyes bulging in their sockets.

"I am the agent of a single hive among a dozen or so, each with its own agendas and goals." Odonata stated, once more shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "The Regent-General wants an end to the crisis, as do most others, but we were advised to be watchful for agents of a specific hive. One that might not even realize there is a crisis to begin with, so corrupted are their thoughts. They may be working actively with the entity I mentioned." Orcus cast a brief glance over his shoulder at the mirror, behind which he knew the Princess to be standing. "It is strange... I can sense their thoughts as if they are living..." The man rubbed at his head as best he could, hampered by his chains. "As if someone is amplifying them..."

The Director stood from his seat, a sudden flash of insight flooding over him. For whatever reason, he believed much of what Odonata had just stated, including the bit about someone interacting with the dead. Something about the story didn't make much sense, namely how Odonata had come to be captured in the first place. The snapshot taken by one of the security runes had clearly shown the two guards laying unconscious prior to the alarm being raised... Any infiltrator, even an amateur, would have aborted under the circumstances... Yet Mythra apparently hadn't, in spite of the urgings of 'Odonata'... She'd gone ahead and attempted to sneak into the Eastern Tower, and when that failed, she tried to knock the door off its hinges...

It was an act that she surely had to know would draw attention. Once they'd entered the Eastern Wall hallway, the trio would've had virtually no route of escape that wasn't covered, another piece of information that would've been obvious. Procedure would then dictate that the infiltrators be detained and brought right there... To Nocturne HQ... Where the two deceased Changelings happened to be stored. If these things could infect the minds of a Queen as far away as the Badlands, what was to keep them from 'communicating' complicated ideas when they were far closer... Complicated ideas like giving directions? Perhaps it wasn't a suicide mission at all.

"Code Nine. I say again, Code Nine." Orcus declared, knowing that the Agents monitoring the recording in the other room would hear him. Only a few moments later he heard the tell tale sound of the alarms echoing through the entire facility. A Code Nine was the highest level emergency a Nocturne Agent could declare, and upon its utterance, every conceivable entrance and exit to the facility would go into arcane and magnetic lockdown,with metal blast shutters dropping over its windows for added security. The Code was generally reserved for extreme chemical, biological, or radiological threats to the surrounding Canterlot populace. In response to the Changeling Threat, however, the Code was amended to also secure that the facility in the event of suspected infiltration by enemy agents.

The entire facility would be hermetically sealed, relying on air tanks and other such backups for its utilities. Any attempt to teleport into or out of the facility would be intercepted and rerouted to a holding cell... The building's exterior would be cordoned off by a special detachment of Cerberus Troopers, all under orders to prevent any unauthorized persons from entering or departing the building, using all measures up to and including lethal force if necessary... Needless to say, a Code Nine wasn't to be used lightly.

"Excuse me..." Without another word Orcus walked to the door, back out into the room were Luna stood lacking any hint of anger, more uncertainty than anything else. Orcus didn't blame her, as even the return of Discord hadn't warranted a full Code Nine. Securing the door, the man walked towards the third interrogation chamber, that which contained the agent known as Mythra. "I think she wanted to be brought here. One of the artifacts that was stolen contains detailed instructions in the field of necromancy. I think she wants to steal the corpses and revive them, though to what end I can't be sure." The man drew his sidearm from its holster on his belt. "I require your permission to terminate the prisoner, ma'am."

"What?" Luna asked, looking frankly stunned at the sudden turn of events. "It's taken us months to capture infiltrators willing to talk to us, let alone betray their hive! I won't have you destroy a third of that intelligence on the paranoid delusion that she intends to bring something back to life! It simply can't be done!" Orcus was about to begin arguing, to explain all that he'd pieced together, and sometimes the only way to stop bad things was to eliminate their orchestrators without hesitation. Then he stopped... These were all things that Luna already understood, in some cases she herself had been the one to eliminate the threat. Something else she'd said began to rattle around his head, and once more he was struck by a rush of realization...

"What did you just say, ma'am?" Orcus asked, subtly flicking the safety off on his pistol. The door to the outer hallway opened to reveal several men wearing full CERPAT combat uniforms, including gas masks, all of whom entered with shotguns and PM-72As at the ready... They were ideal for fighting in the tight hallways of the Nocturne HQ, and while most times they weren't needed, a Code Nine tended accompany an escaped experiment or other such dangerous creature that required a speedy armed response. If only these men knew what Orcus suspected they were facing now, he wouldn't need to waste time proving his upcoming point.

"I said I won't allow you to-" The Princess began, but froze mid sentence as Orcus leveled the pistol squarely at her forehead, causing the woman to put her hands up with an obvious look of sudden terror. There were shouts of surprise from the guards, many of whom readied their weapons with admirable agility, but Orcus remained rock steady. The 'Princess' was between the guards and Orcus, and they wouldn't risk hitting her if they didn't have to. "What are you doing, Director!? I'll have your job for this!"

"This woman is an imposter!" Orcus declared, his voice reverberating from his respirator with a fierce rumble of authority. "The facility has likely been infiltrated by others of her kind! Some of you are aware of the capabilities of these creatures, others need only know they are capable of changing shape!" The guards looked at one another, obviously unsure of whom to be pointing their weapons at now. "If she were truly Princess Luna, why would she appear so frightened."

"Regular bullets wouldn't harm her, so what does she have to be afraid of." That swayed a few more of the men, but Orcus could tell he still didn't have them all convinced. "If she is truly Princess Luna she could use her magic to disarm me, correct? Obviously, we all know the color of her magic." Orcus turned his attention back to the Princess. "So disarm me, Princess. I won't resist..." Several more of the men turned their weapons on the false Princess, but a few still wavered between uncertainty. Orcus notched back the hammer. "Do it. Prove me wrong."

The last of the uncertain men shifted their aim at last, and not a moment too soon. The imposter Luna certainly looked like she wanted to take his weapon, but perhaps not as much as she would've preferred to remain alive. In a flash of violet fire, the imposter's regal gown was replaced by a more revealing garment, whilst her skin took on a distinctly light purple complexion, splotched by patches of dark chitin. All was accented by large violet compound eyes, flowing strands of lavender colored hair, and a pair of large fluttering wings. Orcus lowered his pistol only after the guards rushed to secure the prisoner, each looking about as wide eyed and surprised as the other, their masks wheezing with labored breath.

"We'll begin sweeping the Cerberus Teams first." Orcus ordered, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a pair of rubber earplugs, which he stuffed into his ears. Typically he only carried such things for if he wanted an impromptu visit to the pistol range, but he supposed it might be good practice for other reasons. If a fight did break out, at least he wouldn't go deaf. "Issue orders to the men in the morgue, not a soul is to enter or leave until I arrive. Anyone attempting to do so is to be detained. If they resist, shoot them." One of them nodded and started to leave the room. "Two of you go with him." He added, and so the trio made their exit.

The door to the Third interrogation chamber slammed against the wall as Orcus made his entrance, as any attempt to rein in his temper was beginning to fail. These creatures had made a mockery of his beloved Agency, and now they had the gall to kick in the front door to his house? He couldn't afford another major failure, especially allowing more Agency property to pass into enemy hands. No... The gloves had to come off.

Mythra appeared genuinely surprised by the violent entry of the masked spymaster, trying to scoot back in her seat, but failing as it too was bolted to the floor. She looked almost just like the imposter being dealt with in the hallway, though the orange jumpsuit clashed with her otherwise violet skin. She too had exceptionally long amethyst colored hair. The man leveled his pistol at her, the hammer already drawn back, his lone eye boring into her...

"What do you need the bodies for?" Orcus demanded coldly, his aim not faltering for a moment. His respirator wheezed menacingly, though it came a cost of inflaming some of the pain... This served only to anger him further, a fact he made evident by slamming his boot against the floor. The heavy thud of the sole against the linoleum added to the authority of his words. "What possible purpose could you have for resurrecting those things?" Mythra stared at him, as if weighing her options, before the look of nervousness in her eyes all but vanished. Orcus had expected as much, true fear was very difficult to pull off against his experienced vision. If anything, she looked content...

"I doubt you could understand." The woman hissed quietly, her voice taking on a malevolent tone, with a distinctly Griffon accent. "We have watched your kind bicker and argue over matters of such unimportance that it boggles the mind, all while your people struggle to survive..." She looked at Orcus as if in pity. "You have lost sight of your true path... I can sense it. You must know the truth. That is not dead which can eternal lie, and with strange aeons, even death may die..."

These were words taken from one of the oldest occultic tomes known to exist, a collection of pages so ancient that it had no name other than 'The Black Book'. On those bleak and forsaken pages of parchment, one would find the collected words of the Ancient that'd started it all... He who first peered into the unholy Abyss, he who prevented the doorway from closing when there was still time, and sought to craft a realm where no love or light or joy could exist. Nyja...

The Black Book was the book from which all the evil of the Abyss had first come forth, the book which contained within it all the foul hideous dark knowledge that'd allowed Nyja and his demented followers to create countless other evil grimoires, which would serve one day to inspire the creation of the far more powerful Tome of Obscurum Scientia. It was an artifact which Orcus had personally seen destroyed well over a thousand years ago, so as to prevent its falling into the hands of the occult, who might use it to create another foul tome...

How then could this infiltrator, who appeared so young, possibly recite from its pages... Perhaps he hadn't gotten the only copy, but what hand, sane or otherwise, could ever produce more than one such book. Perhaps it'd been told to Mythra's hive by agents of the Abyss, or maybe... Maybe this 'Mythra' had seen the Black Book with her own eyes...

There was a theory among the Agency's various biologists, that the Violets were different from the Exo-Changelings in their method of consuming their prey. The Exos physically devoured their prey, while the Violets were observed using specialized orifices in their palms to drain their prey, typically a pig, not only of emotions, but of other vital nutrients. They injected their victim with paralyzing venom, then a strong digestive enzyme that reduced much of the creatures innards to a viscous pink slime, which they would then proceed to siphon out through their palm orifices.

Typically the prey remained alive for the majority of the feeding, unless the siphons were affixed to their head, in which case death occurred as soon as the brain was liquified. The process left nothing but the skin and the skeleton, a dried out husk... Their cell structure also indicated that, much like certain jellyfish, they could theoretically regenerate themselves indefinitely, so long as they had sufficient food... Perhaps he was dealing with a being that was, somehow, far older than he was... A being that'd sustained itself for countless centuries, consuming Gods only knew how many unfortunate souls, just to come and find itself in his holding cell. No... Her getting caught was no accident at all.

"These 'dead' things are the keys to burning away the coiling weeds of today, so that something better may grow from the ashes tomorrow... We will rebuild the world in our image, all in service of the Esa'si'de, Eldest Mother of the Elder Ones!" She added with a growl, Orcus only stared silently at her, briefly lowering his pistol.

"So your goal is just... Global domination?" He asked, unable to hide the faint hint of disappointment that filled his voice. "And here I was expecting some grand occultic plot. You went through all the trouble of stealing the Tome of Obscurum Scientia, and all you can think to do with that eldritch knowledge is 'take over the world'?" Mythra seemed taken aback at the casualness with which he'd dismissed her little spiel... It was hard not to, however, considering he'd heard similar speeches from nearly every rogue wizard the Agency put down in the days of Early Equestria. Of course, the mention of 'Esa'si'de' meant there was much more to it then that, but he was working a different angle now. "How about you try doing something more original with your 'evil plot'?" Mythra stared at him, blinking in disbelief.

"We have already infiltrated the governments of countless nations in the world! Yours is not far behind! What other foe has done such a thing!?" Mythra countered in flustered annoyance, to which Orcus hummed thoughtfully and rubbed his chin. "Do you not realize who I am? I am Mythra, Priestess of the Elder Ones! Loyal Servant of-" She stopped abruptly as the pistol was once again leveled at her head. "You won't kill me... Your Equestrian sensibilities won't allow it." Orcus looked the woman directly in her eyes, silently moving his finger from its resting position beside the trigger guard to the trigger itself. "You're bluffing..."

"It is true that at times I have allowed threats come to pass because of my 'sensibilities'... I spare an enemy's life, they somehow manage to escape, then return with greater strength to try their scheme once more. I spare them again, rinse and repeat." Orcus stated coldly, his voice as strong as steel. "Just for you, I am instituting a new policy, the 'Mythra Policy'..." The man's finger tightened on the trigger. "If you are of no further use to us, we kill you. Any attempt at escape? We kill you. Look at me the wrong way? Bam!" He shouted, actually earning a faint flinch from the spy. "Hey... Why are you so scared? Don't you want to die...? Isn't that the whole point of a death cult?"

The man lowered the hammer on his pistol, then flicked the weapon to 'SAFE' before slipping it into its holster. This one was of greater utility alive, for now at any rate... Whether the story he'd been told by the 'Changeling Priestess' was true remained to be seen... If it was, then it would prove a lot more difficult to end the threat than previously thought. He doubted that they had infiltrated 'countless' nations, however...

From what he'd heard from Odonata, the Changelings were a remarkably spread out people, with each Hive serving its own interests more than anything else, and that tended to fall in line with historical accounts of Changeling activities. A conspiracy of the sort Mythra described would take exceptional coordination with numerous hives, hives that would be more likely to destroy the source of the discordance in their hive-minds than they would be to help it.

The mention of 'Esa'si'de' and the 'Elder Ones' was what truly set Orcus on edge, as both were names he was quite familiar with. Of all the cults he'd encountered, both as a member and as someone who opposed them, the Cult of Esa'si'de was perhaps the most ancient... Esa'si'de was the first powerful being to invade this realm, an ancient and powerful entity, who took on the form of a distorted alicorn. To her followers, she was Mother to the Elder Ones, and a twisted representation of 'Mother Nature'... To everyone else, she was the Mistress of Plagues, the patroness of tyrants... If these Changelings were truly her followers, Equestria was nowhere near ready enough. Now was no time to ruminate on the nature of how to combat the global threat, however... That could come later.

At present Orcus' chief concern was how the imposter Princess Luna had been admitted to the building, and what other persons might be revealed as infiltrators... Even the Princesses were subject to the blood tests and other screenings, so either the tests weren't as effective as previously thought, or the Mole was once again working on the inside. No one was above suspicion, no one could be taken at their word. Orcus quietly returned to Odonata's chamber, signaling one of his guards to follow. The Changeling looked up, obviously still affected by his proximity to the Exo-Changelings.

"You still want to prevent a war?" Orcus asked bluntly, Odonata nodded, eying the Director's weapon with obvious fear. "Tell me how to find the other infiltrators in this building." The man looked as if he were about to speak, then paused and shook his head. "Damn it, man! Things will go a lot easier for you and your buddy if you help me!" Odonata pointed at the floor, then began rubbing at his head again, obviously more uncomfortable than before.

"I can't!" He proclaimed harshly, futilely tugging at his shackles. "I would, but the things... The longer I am here, the more they cloud my mind." He explained, clenching his eyes shut and shivering. "Please, you have to get me out of here! I'll do anything, just get me out!" He pounded slightly at his skull. "It's like there are maggots in my brain! Let me out! For the love of the Hive, let me out!" Orcus looked at the guard, then wordlessly left the chamber.

"Move him to one of the closets on the top floor, that's about as far as you can get from the basement." Orcus ordered bluntly as the Guard stepped into the outer viewing area. "First, pull out your combat knife." The guard appeared surprised, but nonetheless drew his blade. "Prick your finger." The man looked stunned at the order, but after a few moments hesitation did precisely as ordered. A small bead of crimson blood appeared, and at that Orcus breathed a sigh of relief. He doubted this man was involved, as Cerberus teams generally entered the building as a group, and any extra persons would've been noticed. "As I said, secure his room. No one comes in, no one leaves. If anyone should attempt to do so without my express permission you are authorized to use lethal force. Not even the Princesses are above suspicion. The challenge will be Sword, the counter sign will be Rapture. Am I one hundred percent clear?"

"Crystal, sir." The guard stated dutifully, eying the other men in the room, just out of earshot. "Should I have them also prick their fingers?" Orcus shook his head, glancing at the door leading into the outer hallway. Out of habit he reached into his pocket to withdraw a fresh cigarette,only to catch himself, as he'd been forced to give up smoking for the foreseeable future. Sighing heavily, his stress level rising, the man continued on.

"You men, with me!" Orcus stated loudly, gesturing to the men in question. "There are still imposters among us! The sooner we clear you all of suspicion, the sooner we can find them." With that Orcus turned and made his way out into the hallway, the other soldiers following close behind him. He had no idea of knowing if all of them were loyal or not, but he had a fairly good idea they were... An imposter or otherwise compromised agent would've taken the opportunity to shoot him when he discovered the false Princess Luna. Even so, they weren't above reproach... As they entered into the fluorescent lit hallway, the alarms gradually falling silent throughout the facility, it occurred to him that it would be a long day...

He and the team journeyed through the now silent halls, passing nervous scientists, analysts, and researchers as they were escorted to the various 'Safe Areas' assigned throughout the facility. Between the polished stone floors, the black marble lined walls, and the faintly flickering fluorescent lights, the Nocturne HQ had taken on a distinctly eerie atmosphere. The heavy footfalls of combat boots and wheezing gas masks added to the feel of it all... While the latter likely weren't necessary, there was no telling what sort of tactics the Changelings would use. They were cunning, deceitful, and more likely to take the option that required the least effort on their part, making the possible use of chemical weapons a very real threat.

After down navigating the emergency stairways, as the elevators had been disabled as the alarm was sounded, Orcus made his way to the facility's armory. There he discarded his uniform in favor of fatigues and a full combat kit, acquiring a shotgun for himself, though he refrained from pulling on his gas mask, he had no need. From there he led the team to the first safe area, designated for the majority of Cerberus operators and Nocturne field agents.

It would be a long and arduous process to clear these people one by one, but as they were cleared they could be dispatched to start the task among the other safe areas, thus reducing the time for a complete sweep... It would still take a while, perhaps well into the hours of the night, but this was the sort of thing that was better accomplished with the benefit of a slow pace.

When all was said and done, he would give the order to have both Exo-Changeling corpses sealed in lead lined coffins, then further shielded with the new 'Containment Enchantments' that'd been delivered by Princess Orzel some months ago. Nothing would be able to commune with the dead, hive-mind or not... Orcus paused for a moment, he really wished Piercing Gaze was there. The man might've thought of something else that Orcus overlooked. Wherever he was, somewhere off the east coast, the director could only hope his task was going better.

"Oracle, this is Whiplash, we have eyes on the target." These were the words that jolted Piercing from his slumber, soon joined by the crash of thunder and the crashing of water against the ship's hull. Quickly blinking the sleep from his eyes, the Agent took stock of his surroundings, specifically the pilothouse of the aging Altair-Class Destroyer ESS Serpens.

Rain pounded against the windows, and the only source of illumination in the rapidly shifting chamber were several red lights, confined to metal cages spaced along the bulkheads. Piercing sat in a chair bolted to the floor, where he'd apparently fallen asleep when it was still daylight... Beyond the windows, lashing the ship in driving sheets of rain, was the most powerful storm to hit the North Eastern Celestial Seaboard in over thirty years.

"Affirmative, Whiplash, can you confirm target identity." Another voice responded as Piercing rose from his seat, adjusting the soggy woolen peacoat that covered his Cerberus fatigues. The Captain and other members of the bridge crew all stood at their posts dutifully, but the tension among them could be cut with a butter knife.

Sailors were by nature a superstitious sort, and that they'd encountered such a violent storm while in pursuit of their current quarry wasn't lost on a single one of them. Staggering towards the radio room, Piercing found another Lunar Marine had taken the communication's station. Like Piercing, he too wore the fatigues of the Lunar Corps, including the distinctive patch of the Nocturne Agency.

"I think we have 'em, sir..." The electronics operator announced. The target in question was a rather dated cargo vessel, a ship by the name of ITC Drongo, bound from Manehattan to an undetermined province of the Southern Griffon Empire.

It was this discrepancy in the otherwise immaculate record keeping of the Imperial Trading Company that had first alerted the Agency to the ship's existence. This, coupled with a fairly recent change in the ship's Commanding Officer and intercepted chatter provided courtesy of several assets working as longshoremen in Manehattan, had identified ITC Drongo as a ship potentially smuggling several Nocturne Artifacts out of Equestria. They were likely also providing passage for Fuse, Coronel Trepatroncos and his men. Thus Piercing had been hastily dispatched to ESS Serpens to oversee the operation, though once again he was expressly forbidden from taking part unless absolutely necessary...

"She's definitely flying Griffon colors. Hold on, I think... There! It's her, has to be, no other single stackers in the area!" The excited confirmation sent a brief jolt of dread down Piercing's spine... So they'd hunted down and found the suspected ship, now what? In the midst of such a terrible storm there was little chance a boat could be sent alongside, and teleporting aboard would require a clear line of sight, another virtual impossibility, that left flying... Most of the Cerberus Team were Thestrals, capable of flying even in this amount of rain, but if they got lost or wounded...? There'd be no way to find them, let alone pull them out of the water, should things take a turn. "Rigel and Aquarius are within range with their five inchers, their Captains are requesting permission to open fire." At this request, the Radioman turned to Piercing.

"Negative, we need that ship and its manifest intact." Piercing ordered, and this was quickly relayed back. Piercing brought a hand to his chin, thoroughly displeased at the options currently presented to him. He and the destroyer squadron could track the ship until the storm abated, but that would take days, and there was a good chance that Drongo might manage to slip away in that time. "Hold one moment..."

He could send the Thestrals over, and risk losing some of them to the sea... It would certainly take the enemy crew by surprise, thus minimizing the chances they could destroy or otherwise dispose of any records, or even the artifacts themselves. The third and 'safest' option could be implemented by a simple snap of his fingers. Dispelling the storm with his magic would render it safe for their team to move aboard, but would certainly alert the crew of Drongo that something was amiss...

They'd easily see the total of six Equestrian Navy ships circling in around them. Chances were that Coronel Trepatroncos, or whomever was responsible for transporting the artifacts, wouldn't have placed all his nasty eggs in one basket. They might get a few artifacts, but that would be the extent of it... Any mention of other shipments would go overboard as soon as they were seen.

"Oracle, this is Oculus. This may be the storm playing tricks on me, but I don't think the target vessel is under power. There's no bow wave, no wake, not even lights... I don't think she even has steam up." Another voice chimed in, and that observation only further complicated things. If the ship was adrift in the storm, it was likely she would be overwhelmed sooner or later... Then they'd lose the artifacts and the manifest all at once. "Sir, I don't think there's anyone aboard her either... No one alive, at least." Piercing sighed, took a deep breath, and held his hand out to the side. With a snap of his fingers the raging storm outside vanished... At least within a twenty mile radius. To the rest of the world it was just as brutal as ever, but now... He'd created an artificial eye in the storm.

"Send the team aboard via a motor launch, full containment kit." Piercing ordered before quickly pacing to the starboard bridge wing. The ship was bobbing in the water, which now harbored an almost mirror surface, whilst water gushed from the scuppers and cascaded into the sea. The sky above was clear, and in the pitch blackness of the sightless ocean Piercing saw more stars than he'd ever dreamt of. Like thousands of tiny eyes, they bore witness to the strange scene in silence. Even with the rumbling howl of the boiler blowers and clanging machinery, it seemed an eerie silence was intent on settling in.

A sudden burst of light erupted from the search light tower of ESS Rigel, which up to that time had been virtually invisible on the bleak horizon. The search beam stabbed at the darkness like the blazing eye of an ancient colossus, then settled on a dilapidated cargo ship with a single funnel atop its central superstructure, the black painted hull mottled and streaked by creeping orange rust. There upon the bow, in faded white lettering, was the word 'Drongo'.

Something about the text seemed off, crooked, and yet at the same time completely mundane. Closing his eyes, Piercing could still see the ship's presence, silhouetted against the Arcane Barrier. Magic oozed from every rusting seam, every open hatchway or porthole, of a sort that didn't bode well for Drongo's crew. This drove home the unsettling realization that he simply couldn't just wait to hear about it from the response team, risk to himself or not.

"I'm going over there." Piercing stated over his shoulder, and before any argument could be raised he once again snapped his fingers. In an instant he now stood on the illuminated forecastle of Drongo, nearly blinded by the wrathful gaze of Rigel's searchlight. A deep sense of dread crept up along his back, a sensation he'd not encountered since his younger days, when first he'd set foot into the unholy sanctum of the Cult of Felis Catus. Yet even that distant foul shrine of darkness might as well have been a garden paradise, for the sense of malevolent magic, the... Unearthly wrongness that infested this ship... It was unlike any other.

The windlasses and other nautical fixtures cast long shadows under the searchlight's glare, stretching like spindly boney fingers towards the ship's superstructure. It too was now illuminated, as Rigel's light was joined by several others, though the added illumination only added to the stark frightfulness of it all. Reaching to his web belt, Piercing drew his semi-automatic pistol from its holster and checked he had a round in the chamber. The deck plates clattered with every step he took towards the amidships deck house, each cacophonous sound reverberating throughout the entire ship like the clanging of a dozen hammers against the hull.

Splashed across the windows of the bridge, with all the carelessness of an abstract painting, were unmistakable spatterings of deep crimson blood. More disconcerting than that, however, were the largely scrawled letters adorning the white paint of the superstructure. They had certainly been diminished by the rain, yet he could read them with such stunning clarity, written in Griffish... 'SHE HUNGERS'. How it had been painted in so large a sprawling style was beyond him, but these two simple words spoke volumes.

The writings of Felis Catus spoke often of an avenging spirit that would one day return to the world in the form of a gigantic panther, which would walk the planet's surface consuming all those but the truly 'faithful'... That was only one possible meaning, of course. So many foul texts had likely been aboard this ship that it could be referring to any number of nameless entities that might present themselves simply as 'She'. For all Piercing knew, the author of that cryptic statement very well could've meant Drongo herself... That raised other nasty questions, and questions were something Piercing had an ample surplus of at present.

The scholar nearly jumped out of his skin as he heard a sudden clustered clatter of steel. Turning to the port side with pistol leveled, he stared silently at half a dozen grapnels which had been hurled up from the sea below... Only now did he detect the faint burbling engine of a motor launch. A few moments later, to punctuate the sudden arrival, a half dozen Thestrals touched down ahead of him.

They wore CERPAT combat fatigues like him, OUBCs, helmets, and gas masks of the same impassive type Piercing had seen in the depths of the Darkstar Facility. Each bore large silver pendant affixed to a leather strap to their wrists, each depicting neon green runes that pulsed upon the otherwise mirror surface. Two dozen of these devices had been personally created by Princess Orzel, using her most powerful magic so as to ward off as much evil energy as was possible... That they were glowing now spoke volumes as to what awaited the team below, as such runes only did so in the presence of the forces of darkness...

One man withdrew a small yellow metal box with a handle affixed to its front, its face festooned with several knobs and a large analog meter. The man took what looked like a metal wand from a port on the device's side and turned one of the knobs, and only then did Piercing recognize the machine for what it was. The rapid emission of a sharp 'tick-tick-tickety-tick' echoed across the ship's forward hull. Bouncing off the surfaces of cargo hold lids and reaching eerily across the water. Piercing wasn't that concerned, his body apparently thrived off Arcane Radiation, but the others...

"It's within safe levels, just double check your dosimeters and filters, Gods only know what kinda dust might've been thrown around in the storm." The man with the Radiation Meter stated whilst his comrades readied their various shotguns, carbines, and PM-72As. Piercing approached the group, recognizing the man that had just spoken as the voice of 'Whiplash', only to stop as one of them leveled a weapon at him. "Verify your identity, sir. Alpha." Piercing stopped and cleared his throat, slipping his pistol back into its holster.

"Zulu Five." Piercing announced clearly, at which point Whiplash signaled the others to lower their weapons. Meanwhile six more Cerberus troopers had ascended by way of the grapnels, joining their fellows in taking in their first up close look at Drongo's superstructure. "Our first priority is the cargo hold, then the engineering spaces. If the artifacts are on board, I'd rather transport them on this ship than one of our own." Whiplash nodded, then turned to issue his own commands. "After you, Major."

The group made their way as stealthily as possible to a dogged hatch at the base of the superstructure, and it was only with a fair bit of effort that they managed to get the hatch open. While the searchlights still provided something to see by, it illuminated naught but the barest sliver of faded green linoleum floor beyond. The rest of the hallway was a yawning abyss of sheer blackness, and while they could see nothing in its seemingly endless depths, Piercing nonetheless got the feeling that something was in there... Peering back at them.

Whiplash briefly waved the wand of the Radometer about the door, revealing that the level was more or less consistent and 'safe' to enter. The stench that gradually wafted towards them was a nauseating mix of industrial chemicals and rotting meat, so bad that Piercing genuinely envied the others whom had the benefit of gas masks.

"So..." Whiplash said as they took their first tentative steps inside, his voice echoing back from the shadows. "I've been on recovery ops before, Doc, but... Nothing like this." He trailed off as they left the final confines of illuminated section, stepping at once into sheer darkness. Piercing briefly pondered the moniker 'Doc'... While technically accurate, Piercing's doctorate was well over a thousand years old... "Mind telling me what it is we're in for? Any idea who that 'She' person is?" Piercing shook his head, then snapped his fingers, materializing a dim glowing orb of light to hover about his shoulders. It was only enough to see immediately ahead of them, as anything brighter risked giving their position away to what might lurk in the shadows.

"Given the varied nature of the artifacts I suspect to be aboard? No bloody idea." Piercing admitted, drawing his pistol from its holster as they and the men behind them delved deeper into the ship. "'She' could be a servant of Felis Catus, or Cthulhu, or just as easily any other powerful entity from the Abyss, of which there are too many to properly name."

Out of habit he once again double checked there was a round chambered, spotting the brass casing and distinctly silver hollow-point bullet. Another product produced by BDT, specifically for use by the Nocturne Agency. It'd been blessed by a Priestess of Edenia, Equestrian Goddess of Light, Joy, and Maternal Affection. Getting a Priestess to actually bless ammunition had proved much more difficult than mass-producing the bullets themselves, even if it was only a limited run...

"I trust you're all loaded with Hallowed Points?" Piercing asked cautiously, wanting to verify they were all equipped to do the most damage. Whiplash merely nodded, silently punctuating his answer with a thumbs up. "Good, we should at least have a chance. Though, if you begin to smell anything akin to cake or other baked goods...? Run." Whiplash snorted, and at that Piercing's expression turned to a scowl. "I'm deadly serious, Major."

"How will I be able to smell anything?" Whiplash asked, gesturing to his gas mask. Piercing was about to retort, when suddenly the dim yellow light of his glowing orb settled upon something... Unseemly. "Holy shit..."

The group abruptly stopped, and Piercing heard one of their number audibly gag. The linoleum was hidden beneath a deep crimson sheen of blood, undoubtedly sloshed about by the ships earlier tossing in the sea. The source of the blood was a pile of viscera that, at one time, had been a man's head. The eyeless mangled skull was perhaps the only means of identifying the remnant unpleasantness as belonging to that which was once human, for no such summation could be made otherwise.

Whatever had happened to the unfortunate crew of this ship had to have been carried out by the most fanatical evil known to man, for Piercing doubted any sane person could do what had been done to another human being and still remain... Human. The ribs had been splayed open, the flesh all but stripped away, and the organs...? Something had been rooting around, like a pig in search of truffles. Once more Piercing recalled the cryptic words... 'SHE HUNGERS'. Perhaps they weren't meant as a mere statement, but as a warning. He silently drew back the hammer on his pistol, his knuckles going white as they tightened on the grip.

"No one travels alone." Piercing ordered quietly, unable to take his eyes from the grisly scene. His words were emphatically accepted by the men, and it seemed each was eager to bunch as close together as possible, despite the risk that might present were they to encounter a grenade. Indeed, the animalistic instinct for safety in numbers was triggered to such an extent that it overrode the training of some of the most elite warriors to ever grace this world's surface. "We need to keep moving." Without further ceremony, that was precisely what they did, gradually making their way through the twisting narrow corridors until eventually coming to a ladder leading further into the bowels of the ship.

Not a man spoke a word, every movement was careful to be as silent as possible, and each listened with fearful attentiveness for anything out of the ordinary. Occasionally they would come across more remains, each as brutally treated as the last. Signs of a terrible battle grew more numerous as they neared the forward cargo hold, with hundreds of bullet holes littering the surface of nearly every bulkhead in sight, as if the crew had been shooting completely at random.

At one point they found a discarded Griffon AP-919 sub-machinegun with two hands still clenching it tightly, completely severed from the rest of the body, which was notably absent. Shell casings occasionally rolled from side to side with the gentle rocking of the ship... The radiation meter's incessant warning ticks began to increase as they neared the large hatch labeled 'Engine Room', growing more shrill with every step closer. This Particular model detected more than just hazardous spectrums of Arcane Radiation, as it was intended as a tool to search for artifacts in general.

"It's mostly Alpha..." Whiplash stated after examining the device in greater detail, still, no one seemed eager to go any closer. Most artifacts emitted Alpha particles, a byproduct of the comparatively crude techniques used in their creation.

Inch by inch, one uneasy step at a time, they approached the looming open passageway. More and more the device screamed its protest, warning them all that what lay beyond in the cargo hold was practically swimming in Alpha particles. Piercing's orb of light showered several large pipes and valves in its eerie glow, all of which were spattered with blood. Willing his magic into the orb, the room grew brighter, gradually revealing the chamber for the horrid charnel house it was.

Piercing tentatively passed through the rust streaked aperture, pausing momentarily to listen for any signs of movement from the shadows. All that reached his ears was the ship's aged hull, which groaned and creaked with evident discontent, as if she herself had been horrified at her transformation into something twisted and evil. The remains of her engineers and firemen were strewn throughout that wretched place, though much as before, they were little more than grisly piles.

Each foetid mound was a mottled shade of gray, mixing with other gangrenous factors, flooding the air with a distinctly rancid stench. Piercing gagged and took a step back, the scent of the old ship had been strong before, but this loathsome scene proved all too much to bear. With a snap of his fingers a gas mask materialized in his palm, and he wasted little time in pulling it on. The only thing he smelled then was rubber and activated charcoal, though the memory of that stench would haunt him for the rest of his days...

"I don't see any crates..." Whiplash mumbled, sounding as if he too was suppressing the contents of his stomach. "Are we sure there's an artifact in here?" Piercing looked at the man, catching only a glimpse of his eyes through the lenses of the mask. Despite the calm facade of his voice, there was primal terror in that man's eyes. "Doc, please say there's no artifact here..." He practically pleaded, but it was a request that Piercing unfortunately couldn't grant.

"We won't know until we've had a look around, I'm afraid..." Admitted the scholar, turning once again to face the slaughtered crew. "Fan out, search every locker or container you come across, but remain on alert..." The men did has he ordered without hesitation, filtering into the engine room and setting to the gruesome task.

The ship's single great triple expansion engine sat in silent, unmoving vigil over it all, like some all seeing monument to whatever foul events had transpired in its domain. Piercing cast a brief look among its various inner workings, recalling how fascinated Luna's daughter tended to be with the things. What he found confirmed his suspicions that whatever had happened had happened while the ship was underway, as evidenced by several shattered fragments of bone and other less mentionable articles that littered the machinary's interior. Whomever had been subject to that death was likely lucky, at least theirs was comparatively quick.

Further investigation yielded another change to the state of the remains... The bodies that Piercing had seen in the various corridors were all torn apart or otherwise dismembered in a frenzy. These bodies, however, displayed a certain... Methodology. The piles were consistently made up of one type of organ, livers in one, kidneys in another, on and on and on. All showed signs of consumption, with the dentition being disturbingly humanoid in appearance, though not wholly human.

There were some bullet holes, and one discarded shotgun, but the firefight that raged throughout the ship apparently never took place here. While the search took perhaps only twenty minutes, for Piercing and the Cerberus it may as well have been hours. The readings remained high for most of that time, until one man happened upon an open ventilation shaft...

"What the...?" The man mumbled, drawing an electronic torch from his vest and depressing the switch. "I think there's something in the-" The sharp stream of light lanced into the vent, then came a sudden shriek of animalistic fury, which drew all eyes towards its source. The man with the torch scrambled backwards as a head, a woman's head, emerged from the vent... Bedraggled and malformed, stringy black hair cascaded about its face, its eyes wide open orbs filled with a viscous luminous green ooze. It kept coming and coming, its neck seemingly endless, its mouth open to bear half a dozen rows of razor sharp teeth, darting right for the man that had apparently disturbed it.

No one gave the order to fire, there wasn't any need, for all men in that chamber suspected this beast was the infamous 'She'. Piercing didn't hear much after the first few shots rang forth from his own handgun, what transpired instead was a brilliant array of blinding muzzle flashes, muted by a single high pitched ringing noise. Gouts of foul black sludge gushed from the creature's tremendously long neck, which beaded up on the floor in bizarre rivulets. The creature was forced to recoil from its attack, and Piercing was relieved to see small coils of silvery blue vapor wafting away from the wounds... The Hallowed Points apparently had an effect after all, thankfully.

Just as quickly as it emerged from the vent, the head and prodigiously long neck retracted into shadows, escaping the onslaught of consecrated bullets, at least for the moment. The gunfire halted, and it was only then that Piercing realized his pistol slide had locked back... He'd been squeezing and squeezing the trigger, thinking that his actions were having an effect, when in reality he'd fired all eight rounds in the first few seconds. His conscious mind was catching up with what he'd just witnessed, trying to put the pieces together as it did so. Almost mechanically he swapped magazines and chambered a round, then rubbed at his ears until the ringing noise began to subside.

"Doc... What in Tartarus was that?" Whiplash asked shakily, moving closer to Piercing while the others all began training their weapons on the various vents and pipes. He could hear it squirming, wriggling around in there, retracting its gruesome head to Gods knew where. "Doc!" The Marine grabbed him by his shoulder's shaking him back to his senses. "What are we dealing with?! You've gotta know now, right?!" Piercing gulped, inhaling deeply through his nose.

"Thou shalt glimpse a messenger of the Mother of all Evil, that which lurks in the shadows of existence and time itself, and in its eyes thou shalt know it is the boundless wickedness of that foul place made flesh." Piercing mumbled frantically, recalling a passage from one of the innumerable scrolls he'd encountered throughout his career. "That thing... It is one of thousands of creatures that inhabit the realm known as the Abyss." Piercing was getting his thoughts back in order, but as he spoke those words it was clear that they didn't bring his fellows much comfort.

"My best guess? It's a servant of Esa'si'de, the Abyssal deity of plagues and disfigurement..." He paused, fishing a pair of earplugs from his pocket and tucking them in his ears. "Early draconic texts indicate she is one of the elder beings of the Abyss, her servants are therefore some of the strongest." Piercing slipped his pistol into its holster and snapped his fingers, conjuring a new weapon into his grasp. One of the Vasiliskov prototypes intended for use in confined spaces, as well as half a dozen magazines to fill his vest. He also conjured a pair of earplugs, much as were being issued as standard kit to Cerberus troopers.

"Bright side? They are exceptionally hydrophobic, even the barest touch of water is to them as acid is to us. They will not be able to escape this ship." Piercing checked the first magazine was loaded with Hallowed Points, then slipped it into the mag well and racked back the charging handle. The silver bullets will wound it considerably, of course, but... We must not tarry, it will soon finish licking its wounds, then it will return with a vengeance."

"Alright, Doc..." Whiplash agreed, adjusting his grip on his weapon. "You heard him... Keep an eye on the vents, and if you hear or see anything screwy, you tell us..." He paused for for a moment, listening to the creaking groan of the ship as it settled around them. When there was no sign that the creature was still present, the man continued. "None of that 'it didn't seem worth mentioning' shit. As of now, all shit is worth mentioning! Let's move!"

Piercing, Whiplash, and the others gradually filed out of the engine room, back into the darkened corridors of Drongo's depths. Every step was careful and measured, every breath taken as if it could be the last. Wide eyed and frantic, the Cerberus Troopers had defaulted from their conscious awareness to the heavily impressed training imparted upon them.

"So tell me more about this 'Ate a Sundae' person..." Whiplash asked, Piercing chuckled faintly, though it was muffled by his mask.

"Esa'si'de... The less said about her the better." The response was simple enough, but Whiplash seemed insistent. "She's like any number of countless ancient and powerful beings from the Abyss. Though I doubt if many even know of our existence, or care for that matter." He shrugged his shoulders, willing the orb of light forward down the hallway, no point in trying to hide their presence now. "They generally pose no threat, so long as they are left to their own domain. There are some, likely including someone formerly aboard this ship, that seek to harness their power. The reasons vary from cult to cult, but suffice to say you generally have to be an absolute nutter if you want to let one of those things into our realm of existence."

Piercing paused for a moment, glancing over his shoulder at the men behind him, then looked ahead once more. The hallway was different, somehow... The angles were becoming exaggerated, the shadows likewise danced in odd fashion. Abruptly Piercing put a hand on Whiplash's shoulder, stopping him from taking another step. When the Marine looked at him with eyebrow raised, Piercing leveled his weapon into the darkness stretching ahead of them, flipped from 'SAFE' to 'BURST', and squeezed the trigger.

The hallway ahead shimmered and abruptly evaporated, revealing another bizarre creature. It was mostly round, with a glistening leathery black hide. Dozens of appendages, tentacles mostly, held it aloft like feet, while four gigantic red eyes set in the bulk of its form bored into the oncoming group of marines. A fringed vertical mouth suddenly opened, emitting horrendous shriek as it began charging forth.

Only Piercing and Whiplash could fire on it unimpeded, as the hallway was too narrow to make use of superior numbers. It was faster than anything either men had ever encountered before, barreling towards them like a steam locomotive, and sounding hauntingly like one as well. The SMGs and rifle barked in rapid succession, and blossoms of bright orange glowing liquid erupted from the creature's hide. It toppled to the floor, tentacles wriggling, its invertebrate form spasming wildly, before skidding to a stop just inches from Piercing's feet. A soft hissing sound filled the corridor, and the large round creature gradually deflated to about half its original size... A dense orange fog vented from the bullet holes, rapidly reducing visibility to almost zero.

"Looks like our summoner friend has been busy..." Piercing stated dryly, nudging the shriveling mass of tendrils and flesh with the tip of his boot. It came away with a viscous clear slime clinging to the leather, which glistened as malevolently as shards of broken glass in the light of the orb, even through the fog. It did so with a color that was indescribable, unlike any hitherto encountered by Piercing. "No idea what in blazes this bloody thing is, but I wouldn't recommend taking off our masks any time soon." He dragged the tip of his boot against the nearby wall, smearing the slime across the surface and thankfully ridding himself of it.

"Odds are we'll run into more of these buggers... Sorry to say this is one of the things we'll need to take back with us for study. I believe this is an ambush predator, though perhaps it's more vegetable than animal..." Piercing added curiously. "It evidently has the ability to display illusions, so whoever goes back to the ship with this thing should grab enough 'Goggles of True-Sight' for everyone... For now, keep an eye out for wonky shapes or angles."

The warning was passed back down the line, as well as the unfortunate revelation that someone would have to cart the thing out of there. Two men were selected, with a third remaining behind as added protection. With increasing uneasiness the rest of them journeyed onwards, passing various closed or opened hatches, each of which had to be searched. Most of them lead to crew quarters or storage rooms, and their contents either showed no sign of interaction whatsoever, or a complete and total disarray.

The radiation meter once again commenced to warn them of increasing levels of radiation, more Alpha particles, though with significant increase in Beta and Gamma particles as well. It still wasn't dangerous for the men, yet, but it was getting closer. It was about that time that the light of the orb began to dim, regardless of Piercing's efforts to pump more magic into it. The light was practically gone by the time they reached the next closed hatch, and while most of the fog had now collected at their feet, it still made it difficult to see... The hatch, labeled as 'Hold No. 1', appeared to have been sealed from the inside. Several corpses gathered outside it, coupled with a wide array of scratches to the paint, indicated that perhaps someone had taken refuge within.

This wasn't a rescue mission, and while Piercing would render aid to anyone that might happen to be alive on the other side of that door, it was purely in the interest of retaining intel on what exactly happened here. Two of the Cerberus troopers, the largest and strongest of the group, moved ahead to try and open the hatch. It budged only an inch or two, but beyond that the securing wheel would turn no further. Piercing's orb once again dimmed, fading entirely out of existence this time, leaving the men with nothing to see by but their own electronic torches. Piercing snapped his fingers in an attempt to force the door open, this resulted in a small fizzle of sparks, but little more... That left few options, so Piercing decided to try the simplest method first.

"Erm, could whoever's inside please open the door?" He shouted, pounding heavily on the dogged hatch, then taking one of the electronic torches and peering through a small porthole. The cargo hold on the other side was, unsurprisingly, filled with crates, barrels, and other miscellaneous bits of freight. There was no movement, beyond a few cargo nets that swayed with the gentle rocking of the ship. "Worth a shot... Right, I don't suppose any of you happen to have some explosives on hand? Otherwise we may need to go all the way back up to the deck and open the hold cover." Whiplash examined the hatch again, then turned to the squad behind them.

"Ray, you take half the men and start back up topside. Start getting the hold cover open from there, we'll see about getting in this way. Once you're topside signal for reinforcements, full containment kit." The man ordered, and with great diligence Piercing watched six of the men melt away into the blackness behind him, the only evidence of their departure being a sudden diminishing amount of light from their torches. "I doubt anything we have on hand could blast the door open, Doc..." The man pounded on the hatch, which resulted in several heavy metallic thuds. "Thing's designed to be water tight, gotta be at least an inch of solid steel, maybe more." Piercing nodded, once again snapping his fingers, though this time yielded similar effects. "What's with your magic?"

"It could be any number of things." Piercing shrugged, honestly as perplexed as Whiplash. The radiation meter was still detecting elevated levels of arcane radiation, if anything his magic should've been more potent, not less. "Either way, I don't like the idea of us just waiting around in one place. I don't know what else could be down here with us." Whiplash nodded in agreement, turning to face the remaining men in their contingent. Piercing took a brief headcount of the men, noting that they only numbered four... "Where's Private Ashen?" The others turned to look around, but they too couldn't see the missing man. "Did he go with the others?"

"No, sir..." One of the remaining men responded, taking several steps closer to the door. "He was here a few seconds ago, I know he-" The man was cut off as the hallway was filled with a sudden agonized scream, emanating from somewhere in the blackness. The torch lights darted around in frantic fashion, desperately searching for the source, before one finally fell on an item on the floor some twenty feet behind them. An PM-72A, as well as a helmet, which still teetered about on the floor... Obviously only having come to rest there recently. As one the group moved to the closest intersection, casting their lights in all directions, but there was no sign of the missing Private Ashen. "We've gotta get out of here... We're all gonna die!"

"We have a mission to complete, Corporal Cedar!" Shouted Whiplash, but the Corporal didn't appear to be listening any longer. He took several steps down the hallway, which bore a sign indicating there was a stairwell that could take him to the surface. "Corporal, don't you go running off one me! Not down here..." Cedar looked between Whiplash and the sign, Piercing could see the fear in the young soldier's eyes, finally eclipsing the training... Cedar couldn't fight that primal fear inspired by being of the Abyss any longer, and Piercing didn't blame him when he took several more steps into the gloom. "Damn it man, we're Cerberus! We don't cut and run! Stand fast!" The Corporal stopped, frozen in place, looking more torn than ever.

"A-Aye, sir..." Cedar finally managed, stepping back into the light, albeit slowly. Then, much like the orb which had formerly lighted their way, Piercing saw the first of their electronic torches beginning to dim, all while the radiation meter suddenly spiked to a frightening shrieking whine.

Whiplash held the meter up for Piercing to see, apparently unwilling to voice the number displayed by the gauge. They were being surrounded by Alpha particles... With their dying torch light, they scanned above and around them, spotting a ventilation duct running directly overhead. Something was moving in there, rattling around. Perhaps it was 'She', but it just as easily could've been any other number of indescribable horrors thus far unencountered by the team. Once more the group moved as one, returning to the cargo hold doorway, lights glued to the vent overhead...

One by one the torches faded into blackness, leaving only the faint lights of the radiation meter and the neon green glow of Orzel's protective talismans to light the chamber. Without warning the meter went dead quiet, its lights flickering out, and Piercing had to wonder if it was Whiplash that had turned off... Or if its power source had merely been suppressed like the others. Heart pounding in his chest, Piercing raised his weapon and pointed it in the general vicinity of the overhead vent.

Without the meter ticking away, it was easy to hear whatever was up there slithering about, the faint ping of metal being depressed... It was almost directly over them. The hallway was suddenly subjected to a soft tittering sound, not unlike a swarm of cockroaches or other such insects. Out of instinct the men backed themselves up against the hatch to the cargo hold, in their harried state there was nothing else they could do.

Out of the sheer blackness, very faintly at first, Piercing thought he saw movement from the vent overhead. The light of the talismans was hardly enough to see by, but as his eyes adjusted, it seemed to him that the very walls themselves were... Moving. Not in a literal sense, but rather, it seemed that they were pulsating of their own accord. Apparently he wasn't the only one to notice this, however, as someone in the group abruptly opened fire on the walls themselves.

This startled Piercing and the others into doing the same, and as one they frantically hosed every conceivable angle with gunfire. Brilliant flashes of that same enigmatic indescribable color erupted on the walls, glowing spurts of phosphorescent slime that gradually revealed the true nature of the threat they now faced. Insects, thousands of tiny insects, all scrambling towards the enclave of Cerberus troopers with the frenzied ferocity of a swarm of feeding sharks.

It didn't matter how many of the damn things they killed, the were without number, and for every one of their slain it seemed a hundred more took its place. There was no stopping the swarm, and they'd already backed up as much as they could. Two men were suddenly overtaken, going down beneath the innumerable hordes of ravenous chitinous creatures, firing wildly until their weapons were empty. Piercing didn't know which ones, only that their screams were cut short when someone else took it upon themselves to end their suffering. Someone was screaming, Piercing didn't know who, perhaps it was even himself.

Death seemed inevitable now, and even as he struggled to swap magazines for VRX in the near total blackness, Piercing's mind was sprinting back towards simpler things. It didn't seem fair, that he should spend so much time apart from Luna, only to be reunited and subsequently slain in such short order... He missed her dearly, and he couldn't help but realize just how crushed the news of his demise at the hands of these foul insects would leave her.

In that instant he gained a new appreciation for the stories he'd heard from Luna, about what Orzel had spoken of as 'The Fall of Cesarski'. For all the firepower he and the others possessed, for all their training and 'protective' pendants, there was nothing they could do to stop the tide of tiny slathering jaws and chittering legs from overtaking them.

Suddenly Piercing found himself falling backwards, as did Whiplash and Cedar, both of whom were in short order pulled through the now open hatch. The men behind it ensured that the trio were clear before slamming the hatch shut and sealing it tightly, only allowing a few of the insects to make it through. These were squashed in short order... What followed was a blur, but Piercing distinctly remembered being brought back onto his feet. Cerberus was pouring over every inch of that dark decrepit hold, searching for any sign of the illusive artifacts or other clues as to just what had happened here. The earliest recollection Piercing had of what followed, when his faculties were only gradually returning to him, was as he and the others were climbing a rope ladder out of that place... Back onto the top deck of the ship.

He spoke not a word to the men standing guard there, most of whom were the reinforcements Whiplash had asked for. He didn't want to think about what he'd seen in that hallway, or the unstoppable swarm which had claimed the lives of two more men... Corporal Cedar had to be physically restrained, as he attempted to hurl himself into the sea, screaming and raving about something he claimed to see in the light provided by the muzzle flashes. Piercing wasn't sure, but he was fairly certain he'd seen it too, though he wished he hadn't... Just out of the corner of his eye, boring into his very soul, were the two luminous glowing orbs of 'She'. Whiplash spoke not a word, the man was barely responsive at all, and only resisted when someone attempted to take his weapon from him. He too needed to be restrained, for fears that he would harm himself, or others...

They returned to ESS Serpens in a motor launch, where all of them were run through decontamination showers and allowed to change into fresh uniforms. The motor launch meanwhile returned to the derelict ITC Drongo to bring back several crates of artifacts, the ship's manifest, and the shrouded shriveled remains of the beast from the hallway. It was only with the aid of a flamethrower that they were able to recover the bodies of their slain, even the missing Private Ashen... What was left of him, at any rate.

By all accounts, despite the losses, the mission had been a success. The clearest memory was as Piercing stood on the bridge wing of Serpens, shortly after giving the order to sink Drongo... Every ship in the squadron laid into her with everything from their guns to torpedoes, turning the aged cargo hauler from floating tomb to sinking wreck in a brilliant display of thunder and fire. Watching the ship gradually succumb to the water, the man quietly held his hand out and snapped his fingers...

To ensure no trace of that vessel ever washed ashore, or otherwise revealed itself to the world, he snapped his fingers again. Unseen by those above water, the sea floor directly beneath the sinking ITC Drongo shifted and changed, becoming so deep that no conceivable expedition of salvage or exploration could ever be safely undertaken. It took a great deal of effort to keep the sudden change in underwater topography from having adverse effects, enough magical effort that Piercing nearly collapsed from exhaustion as a result. It was all worth it, because that cursed ship would be consigned to the closest thing on his world to the Abyss itself, where it and all the horrors aboard would remain for all eternity...

Piercing paced the length of the flush decked destroyer until he arrived near the fourth funnel. It was here that the items from Drongo had been taken, stored in the machine shop just below. He peered down through the open vents of the skylight, looking upon the fruits of the mission with silent reproach. To ensure that a repeat of what happened aboard Drongo didn't take place aboard Serpens, all samples and artifacts had been stored in specialized Tungsten-Arcanium alloy containment units, smaller versions of that which had temporarily contained Discord, further refined by, of course, Orzel. Even now, the runes confining the evil energy glowed brightly, a testament to just how truly dangerous sheer proximity so such objects could be.

So far an examination of the items accounted for nearly all of the missing artifacts, with the exception of four. The Tome of Obscurum Scientia, the Tome of Felis Catus, the Grimoire of Stygian Hardhearted, and the remains of Sokol z Glosem-Smoka... The former three were of the most concern from a practical stand point, as the reinforcements that combed through the rest of the ship found no sign that the summoner, Fuse, or Trepatroncos was among the slain. A lifeboat was also missing, capable of carrying at least forty people. Piercing suspected that whomever had summoned the various abhorrent creatures aboard Drongo was long gone, perhaps even the storm itself was a further means of covering their tracks, such spells were known to exist in the aforementioned books.

The elusive summoner, whoever they happened to be, likely unleashed those creatures of the abyss to kill the crew... Knowing the Equestrians would eventually find it. Perhaps they'd been counting on the Equestrians to sink it outright, rather than risk a boarding action? A salvage operation would find most of the artifacts, but the books would've simply end up classified 'lost to sea'. Piercing slid his glasses back to sit properly on his nose, then shook his head. They'd need to analyze what they had before he could go making any other assumptions.

While Piercing was fairly certain that the body of Sokol wasn't among the artifacts stolen by the shadowy cabal of Changelings or Trepatroncos, that didn't discount the possibility it was someone working within the Nocturne Agency. Nonetheless, he would've liked to have found the remains regardless. It would answer a lot of questions and, more importantly, provide his virtual step-daughter with some final amount of closure. The disappearance of the corpse perplexed him greatly... After all, it wasn't like the dead woman could just get up and walk away... Could she?

Briefly Piercing's thoughts returned to the night on which he'd first regained cognoscente thought, when Discord's grasp had gradually slackened. There were flashes, memories of a woman's voice, speaking an archaic Draconic dialect that he just hadn't placed at the time. It couldn't have been Sokol, however, as she'd perished a good distance away from Discord's statue... Or had she? Piercing blinked, turning back to face the still burning oil slick that marked the grave of Drongo, the flames igniting another flash of recollection. Discord had referred to a 'she-creature', or something of that sort, before he was purged from Piercing's mind once and for all. The man shook his head, such thoughts were ludicrous at best, just the lingering paranoia of a night spent aboard a ship that looked like the very depths of Tartarus.

"Seal these skylights." Piercing ordered down to the crew guarding the crates, then turned and made his way back to the bridge. He would need to allow the storm to resume soon, as keeping it at bay in the wake of his earlier sea transformation was growing tedious. Upon entering the bridge, he became acutely aware that there were more men there than before... All of whom were wearing flak jackets and gray steel helmets. The Captain stood in the radio room beside a man staring at an oscilloscope, both of them wore headphones. "Captain, what's wrong?" The man removed his headphones and offered them to Piercing.

"We're listening to the wreck settle, took a bit longer than we thought, but that's not what concerns me." The Captain admitted, all Piercing heard on the headphones was a distinct 'ping'. A few moments later it returned with a softer version of itself.

"Sonar contact is moving, sir, bearing now two-niner-zero." The man looking at the oscilloscope announced. "Depth... Approximately one-five-zero feet and holding." There was another ping, which of course was returned. "Sounds fairly crisp, Skipper. Not a biological, definitely gotta be a pig boat, probably Snow-Class judging by the resonance..." Piercing raised an eyebrow at that, removing the headphones and returning them to the Captain. "I don't think they realize we hear them."

"Bits to bagels, that's a Griff pig boat, they're the only ones with the range to operate this close to Equestrian waters." The Captain stated bluntly, looking at Piercing with a neutral expression. "My guess is they're on their way to report that six Equestrian warships just fired upon and sunk a Griffon merchant vessel. The way things are going over there at present, that won't do us any favors politically." The man nodded quietly, rubbing at his chin. "You're the boss here, so what we do is up to you. The squardon's fully stocked with depth charges, just sayin'..." Piercing shook his head emphatically.

"We're on the borders of Equestrian and international waters, correct?" Piercing asked, and the Captain nodded. "If they report on it, we'll explain that the ship failed to respond to signals. We sent a team aboard to investigate and possibly render aid. Regrettably it seems the crew had succumb to a fatal chemical leak of unknown origin, as such the ship had to be scuttled, rather than risk towing it back to port." Piercing once again clasped his hands behind his back.

"As we haven't made a habit of firing on merchantmen in the past, this plausible explanation should be accepted easily enough..." Piercing gazed upon the scope, watching the blip that apparently signified the sub. "I have a sinking feeling, if you'll pardon the pun, that this sub isn't here merely by coincidence. If I'm correct, I doubt we'll be reading of our escapade in the papers." The Captain nodded at this, stepping away from the sonar set up. "Now, I advise you to hold on to something..." With that, Piercing snapped his fingers again, and with that the full brunt of the raging storm returned to the cursed patch of sea.

A stream of warm sunlight roused Princess Orzel from her slumber, as yet another morning began upon Pulauapi's main island. Despite her brief conversation with her Mother in the dream, and the abruptness with which it had ended, she was feeling rather positive overall. She took a moment to rub the sleep from her eyes, then felt blindly about her night stand until her fingers settled on her glasses. The lenses were slightly thicker than her old pair... A new prescription.

Orzel took a moment to scratch at the side of her head, the right and then the left, around the area where her horns had grown in. They'd since started developing at an increased rate, as had her various instincts. She already had increased strength, a strong aversion to cold, an equally strong desire for shiny bits and baubles, apparently metallic hair, but it was the horns that'd been troubling her most lately...

"Of course..." She said with a yawn, the teen adjusted her glasses and looked about her surroundings. "Why must they itch when they grow?" By now the changes overcoming her in the physical sense didn't phase her much beyond mild annoyance, both through hard work, and mere resignation. She, as a Princess, had bigger things to concern herself with than something that was totally beyond her control... She was still attempting to make that particular mental change stick.

Orzel slotted her glasses onto her nose, then felt around for her stuffed bear, Wojtek, who rested precariously close to the edge of her bed. The teen was quick to pick him up and give him a gentle squeeze, taking exceptional care not to damage him... The phrase 'doesn't know her own strength' was rapidly becoming an understatement. Given the dream she'd had, she needed a little pick me up.

"You're my favoritest friend!" The bear cheered joyfully, and Orzel didn't feel inclined to stop the small smile from forming on her face. Planting a gentle kiss on the bears head, she set to getting dressed and making her bed. Today was a mandatory 'day off', as it was worried she might be working herself a little too hard of late. A day off meant she'd first spend the majority of her morning training with Grim, Fable, and a specially selected person. After that, she'd probably go hang out with Alba...

Alba's father wasn't altogether pleased with the revelation his daughter was hanging out with a 'dragon delinquent', but he hadn't stopped it from happening either, probably because he knew he couldn't. That Alba had also gotten a job as a result, and that said job ostensibly pertained to higher education, had persuaded the man to allow her to accompany Orzel to the range... Today, if they wound up doing so, it'd be purely for the purpose of shooting for the fun of things, not for scientific research, though Orzel argued the two weren't mutually exclusive.

More likely, Alba would wind up dragging Orzel to the beach with the other teenaged children of Site R's various research staff, most of whom she knew only through Alba's stories about them. They apparently did have a game of O&O going here, but the party was currently full... Of course, there were plenty of other people who wanted to play, so maybe Orzel would try her hand at actually running a game. That was a matter for later... For now, Orzel would've preferred to keep the others at a distance. Alba was having none of it, and the extroverted young lady seemed to have made it her mission to pry Orzel out of her shell, with a crowbar if necessary...

As was typically the case on these 'days off', the Princess conducted her morning routine at a slightly delayed pace. Once again she basked in the scalding embrace of super-heated water that was her shower, then dressed herself with CERPAT fatigue pants, combat boots, a Navy issue telnyashka, and her assorted religious garments. The girl shook her head, tucking the hem of her telnyashka into her trousers and double knotting the laces of her combat boots. Then, as she always did, she made her bed... To ensure it was done properly, she took a shiny golden Bit and bounced it off the top sheet. It bounced a few inches in the air, thus confirming the bed was made to her rigorous personal standards.

From there, it was time for morning prayers and meditation, so she made her way to the balcony door and opened it wide. The smell of the island greeted her as it always did, a musty bouquet of humid vegetation, distant sea spray, and tasty, tasty, tasty wild pigs. Darting her tongue out to almost literally drink in the morning air, she became aware of something else, something unusual... Diesel engines... That wasn't to say there were no such engines on the island, typically they resided in cargo trucks, but they seldom saw any use so as to keep the island's occupation a secret. The only time they really came out in numbers large enough to alter the morning air was in the event of a massive mobilization.

Stepping out into the balcony, Orzel observed the island's natural harbor. Typically there was very little action in that part of the island, as the destroyer squadron assigned to guard the island against threats was quite adept at making itself hidden from air and sea reconnaissance. Today it seemed the island's entire squadron was out in force, taking on an obvious blockade formation. Occasionally they would venture closer to the shore, their weapons mounted and ready, with men on the bridge wings that peered into the jungle, as if searching for something.

Looking towards the base of the volcano, Orzel saw dozens of Cerberus Troopers and Lunar Marines now patrolling the immediate vicinity, many of whom were equipped with more extensive load outs than the standard 'rifle and helmet' kit she'd become accustomed to. To top things off, and Orzel was surprised she'd managed to sleep through their arrival, a pair of drab green half-tracks were parked on either side of the road leading into the mountain complex, complete with quadruple mounted .50 caliber anti-aircraft mounts...

These vehicles had initially been brought to the island at her request, part of her work on the ADATA Gun Platform variant... In this instance their weapons were directed at the jungle, rather than towards the sky, where one might expect to find an air threat. Pursing her lips, Orzel let out a soft sigh... She had an inkling that told her she'd slept through something big. Obviously not big enough to warrant waking her, but big nonetheless. As such, she felt it prudent to make her session of prayer and meditation slightly abbreviated, without wholly neglecting them entirely.

With her obligation to her Goddess fulfilled, and her mind more thoroughly centered, the Princess made her way into her living room, specifically towards a red telephone seated beside her weapon display case. Picking up the receiver, she pressed the large illuminated button at the center of the dialing ring... Grim answered after a few moments, and dutifully explained that the Changelings had apparently dispatched a team of assassins to try and... Well, assassinate her.

They'd been thwarted, of course, but not without getting within sight of Orzel's tower door. Said door's enchantments had stopped them, but the security personnel at Site R weren't taking any chances. They'd already finished sweeping most of the island while Orzel was asleep, and the lockdown would be lifted in something like twenty minutes... The Princess stoically thanked the man for his help, verified that they were still scheduled for self-defense training, then hung up...

For all the time she'd spent here on Pulauapi, Orzel had always thought that Mother's insistence that she was in danger mostly the result of paranoia... A byproduct of the understandable concern a mother felt for her child. Certainly the girl had never expected someone to actually come after her, let alone that anyone on this world actively sought to do her harm...

They'd gotten to the Director of the Nocturne Agency already, even if the attempt had failed. Now they'd tried get to Orzel, and even if that attempt had also failed, the fact remained that people... Real people, with real weapons, had come to her door with the intent of doing her harm. Countless images of the Agent Zhelezo passed before her eyes, for there was a man that she also knew sought to harm her. These images transitioned to the the burning cityscape, the screams and howls, and for a few moments it felt as if she'd been transported back to Cesarski on that fateful night.

For the first time in a long time, in spite of all of her armed guards, all of her security enchantments, all of her weapons... Orzel found herself feeling dangerously exposed. Trying to put the thoughts out of her mind, Orzel forced herself into the kitchen to begin preparing breakfast, at least until she tried to take the carton of eggs from within the fridge. In so doing, she found her hands were trembling, and as a result the entire carton fell to the floor with predictable results. Sighing heavily, the Princess used her magic to clean up the mess, then made her way back out to the phone in the living room. Picking it up again, she dialed a number she'd never found a use for until now.

The people in the cafeteria informed her that they could indeed send breakfast up as she requested, but that it would have to wait until the security lockdown was lifted. Again, Orzel was stoic and calm, thanking them for their help before once again hanging up. With that, Orzel ambled over to one of the couches in her living room, beside a solidly built end table, albeit slightly modified.

Uttering a quiet incantation, a small drawer concealed in the side popped open, revealing a semi-automatic pistol, with a blued-steel patina and satin finish... This weapon was one of Orzel's own design, though it incorporated the 'Locked Breach' action originally developed by Double Aught that was, by now, the 'standard' for most semi-automatic handguns. Chambered in .45 ACP, she'd built it specifically to withstand the higher pressures of .45 Basilisk, which had a tendency to excessively wear the recoil springs of traditional .45 pistols. More notably were the runes scribed along the slide, which pulsated with dull emerald energy, and for lack of a better term imparted a 'Blunt Force Damage' effect on the projectile as it impacted the target.

Those runes, plus the power of the new round, likely made this particular design of pistol the most powerful handgun on the planet... At the very least, the most powerful semi-automatic pistol. She'd dubbed it simply 'Wyrównywacz', or 'Equalizer' in Equestrian. No fancy numerical designation, just a single blunt word. This particular piece, and half a dozen identical copies hidden throughout Orzel's residence, was built with one purpose in mind... To kill people.

She still saw most of the firearms she designed as tools, and while most of them were intended to kill something, they could just as easily be used for target shooting or other firearm sports... Not so with Wyrównywacz. It was a weapon designed and built it specifically with the purpose of ending another person's life... Orzel had never fired a shot in anger in her life, she'd never had need to, but now she found herself forced to answer a serious question. Could she, if she had to?

She certainly thought she was capable of taking someone's life, if the need arose, but thinking something and actually doing it were two different concepts. In the end, it all came back to Zhelezo... Never had she hated a man as thoroughly as she did Zhelezo. She thought about all the times she'd been shouted at, berated, insulted, even physically assaulted... How powerless and frightened she'd felt, because he was big, he was strong, he was the clenched fist of the Empire, and she was a small, weak, insignificant, feeble little defective... Worth less to him than the dirt in the tread of his boot...

No matter how big and strong Zhelezo might've been, no matter how invincible he might've seemed at the time, he was nonetheless a flesh and blood mortal. All of his strength, all of his size, would mean little when Orzel imagined a copper jacketed projectile ripping into his chest at well over the speed of sound. All his posturing and threats reduced to nothing, as the round mushroomed out and cavitated through his torso, snapping bone, rending flesh, spurting blood...

She was never to point the weapon at anything she wasn't willing to utterly destroy... That was the most important rule. Firearms's didn't just have the power to hurt people, they had the potential to unmake them. That was the thing, though... There was nothing Orzel would've wanted more than to unmake Zhelezo, his cronies, and all the faceless stooges at the MIS. To take one of her weapons, rack a fresh round, and lay them to waste... To see the fear in their eyes, the very same fear they'd forced her to endure, right before their life drained away.

It was a nagging question that rattled around Orzel's mind, and honestly made her question regularly if there might be something psychologically wrong with her. Doctor Scratch agreed it was something they should probably work on, but explained that fantasies about revenge were hardly a novel occurrence. More importantly, everyone in said fantasy had already died horribly at the hands of vicious monsters. Essentially the very same vicious monsters that'd just made an attempt on her life, now that she thought about it... The same could be said for anyone else that would seek to do her harm, and there she found her answer.

Orzel eyed the weapon pensively, once again affirming to herself that, yes, she could kill another human being if she had to. That was why she'd named the pistol Wyrównywacz to begin with. If ever push came to shove, if another big, strong, seemingly-invincible foe came to prey upon her, she would not be so weak, so small, and so feeble as to allow that threat to menace her for long. With that thought her hands ceased their trembling, her breathing slowed to normal, and with one heavy sigh she ultimately she slid the drawer shut.

With nothing else to do for the moment, Orzel entered a state of meditation, further working to calm herself and make sense of the strange miasma of feelings that'd been stirred up. It didn't take her long to get back to her typical stoic self, especially as she pondered that the odds of assassins somehow making it into Site R were so small as to be negligible. Another thirty minutes passed before the lockdown lifted, and her breakfast arrived some ten minutes after that. It was as she was eating at the dining room table that she became aware that Midnight had yet to make an appearance, odd, but not unheard of.Orzel supposed the bird just had 'familiar' things to do, as she tended to disappear randomly at times. Eventually the Myna would turn up, whenever she felt like it.

From that point on, the Princess made her way out of her residence and down in the elevator, on towards the Military section of the island. Again, as per usual, she began her training with Grim, Fable, and a Cerberus Trooper by the name of Private Grunt. He preferred, as his name suggested, to communicate either non-verbally or through occasional grunts...Given that he was trusted enough by Grim and Fable to take part in the training sessions, and his apparent allergy to making casual conversation, Orzel suspected Grunt was likely the protege of her two hulking bodyguards... Maybe even a cousin?

The session started as it always did, with a five mile run... Even with her considerable draconic endurance, it'd been exceptionally difficult for her to complete the task when they'd first started out. In the time since, it'd become less a completely exhausting exercise, and more of a relaxing morning warm up. Plenty of time for her to get out and about, or chat with her companions... Well, more like she did all the talking and they'd either nod or shake their heads.

Today they seemed a little more on edge, and Orzel got the feeling there was more to it than 'added challenge' when they suggested that they all run wearing full combat packs, including weapons, ammunition, and body armor. Orzel welcomed the challenge, opting to insert two of the new prototype 'Heavy Plates' into her OUBC, one in front and one in back. It was a quarter-inch in total, consisting of thin sheets of hardened high-carbon steel of a type similar to that used in wheels on rail cars for its considerable hardness, laminated with plates of softer, milder steel.

The 'Strike Face' was further supplemented by a layer of a commercially available industrial ceramic, which on its own wouldn't be enough to stop a bullet. In conjunction with steel would be enough to consistently stop five or six shots from a Griffon Army bolt-action rifle chambered in 7.92x57mm. Anything more than that and the ceramic would be too badly degraded to reliably do its job, but considering this was the first commercially viable piece of body armor rated for Rifles, that was considered 'good enough'. All was encased in several layers of the fiberglass-epoxy laminate typically used in the 'Light Plate'. It was, after all, designed to stop low speed projectiles. While not a perfect solution to the spalling problem, Spike had made the point during one of their 'walks' that 'Good Enough' now was better than 'Perfect' tomorrow.

They ran five miles one way, then five miles back, so in the end it was more of a ten mile run. It gave Orzel a better insight into where else she could probably improve the OUBC and the Heavy Plate before submitting the design for official review. It was heavy, as she'd known it would be from the outset of choosing steel, but not so heavy that a soldier or other similarly trained individual couldn't handle it. Perhaps, when and if she perfected the technology, she could stamp an enchantment in the steel during production? Something that'd lighten its overall weight and absorb the kinetic energy of a round impacting it...

That was as matter Orzel would need to pursue another day, as she'd begun thinking out loud midway through the run, and was chastised for 'working' on her mandatory day off. She offered a half-hearted apology and stuck to less interesting topics for the remainder. From there they moved to calisthenics and stretching, then weight training.

It'd proved difficult finding a means of meaningfully challenging her as her training progressed, and had graduated to a point where they'd rigged up an odd sort of land based pulley system. One of the base's security destroyers would tie itself to the line, which was then adjusted for Orzel to make use of the ship's considerable tonnage. She was nowhere near strong enough to lift the ship, which displaced approximately twelve-hundred tons when fully loaded, but if the sea was calm enough she could pull it along via the cable to a speed of approximately five knots.

Weight training was followed by gymnastics and acrobatics. The latter two were part of the reason they needed Grunt, as he was of a considerably more average height than Orzel's nine-foot minders. While the Princess was exceptionally strong, she was also frustratingly short, and it seemed she was cursed forever to remain under five feet tall.

That actually worked to her advantage in a way, as Grim and Fable pointed out that she was more nimble and agile than larger, bulkier foes. Much of their hand-to-hand focus was placed on becoming flexible, moving as gracefully as wind, and striking like lightning. There was also a lot to be said for using an enemy's attack against them, throwing them off balance or kicking their legs out. The effects of both training regimens had been greatly amplified when blunt and edged weapons were thrown into the mix, and by now she'd become quite adept in their use...

The final hour of their four hour session was spent in unarmed sparring matches, most of which Orzel might've easily won merely through brute strength, but she didn't want to rely on strength alone. What if she was somehow struck with a spell, or a poison, or some other negative effect that sapped her of her strength? There was also a very real possibility where she might have to fight another dragon, in which case her strength might be more equally matched... Then she would have nothing to rely upon but her skill, especially if she also happened to be unarmed at the time.

It was the last bout of the training session, and Orzel's telnyashka was soaked with sweat. Her fatigue pants and boots smeared with grass stains. She and Private Grunt orbited one another in the training circle, each of them eying the other, looking for any sign as to their next move. The Princess suddenly bobbed to the right as a fist, clad in a padded glove, sailed past her head. She reached out and grabbed Grunt's arm, then forcefully pulled it towards her, tugging the Private along with it. He grunted and attempted to wrench it free to restore his balance, but the girl's leg was already moving to sweep his legs out.

The man hit the ground with a heavy thud, and Orzel continued to hold his arm steady while planting a boot squarely on his neck. She had to take special care to 'pull her punches', as her undiluted strength would seriously injure, or more likely kill, her training partner.

Orzel released Grunt's arm and removed her boot from his neck, then helped pull the man back onto his feet before turning to look at Grim and Fable. Both men were seated beneath a canvas awning, rigged out from the side of a supply truck. As thestrals, they weren't particularly fond of the heat given off by that miasma of incandescent plasma known as the sun, even if they might be Giants.

Standing from his seat, pausing only to take a sip from his canteen, Fable approached the training circle. Glancing at his watch, the man hummed in approval before placing his hands on his hips. Orzel wiped some of the sweat from her forehead, taking a moment to examine her arms and ensure she wasn't otherwise injured. It was extremely unlikely, of course, but that wasn't a guarantee. The metallic bronze scales glittered brightly in the sunlight. Now spending a great deal of time outside every day, they she felt went nicely with her skin, which had taken on an even deeper almond bronze tone tan than before.

"You're handling take downs much better now." Fable's voice was pleased, though Orzel detected a slight hint of something else. "My only concern really is that you're growing too rigid in your technique." The girl raised an eyebrow at that, so Fable simply nodded at Grunt. The man turned and abruptly took a swing at the Princess, as he was right next to her the angle was slightly awkward, and her mind scrambled to conjure the proper counter. She was only starting to raise her arm when the blow connected with her shoulder, knocking her a few steps to the side. "Put simply, you're thinking too much, getting lost in your own head. Combat isn't like a game of chess, you can't be married to a rigid set of moves and counter-moves."

"Remember... As Princess, your reason for fighting is not the same as a typical soldier. Your survival is paramount, and in the unlikely event you're forced to defend yourself, your goal is to eliminate the threat and escape to safety by any means." Grim added sagely, rolling his shoulders as he spoke. "There are no points or counterpoints, no neatness or artistic flair, just life and death. Be pragmatic, be efficient, exploit every weakness to its fullest lethality. Move like the wind, strike like lightning. Like these forces of nature, you must show no mercy."

Orzel nodded at the man's advice, though it wasn't anything she hadn't heard before. They'd taught this method of thinking to her from day one. Her survival was of absolute importance, there wasn't any space for 'honorable duels', as might've been expected in Szafirian society. If ever she found herself in a 'fair fight', it was her own fault for not preparing better. The ethos was far more in keeping with the Szafirian Navy, which regularly took pages from what was jokingly referred to as 'Księga Brudnych Sztuczek', or roughly 'The Book of Dirty Tricks'.

No strategy was off the table, because when doing battle with pirates there wasn't time for sentimentality. Pirates by definition didn't play by the rules, so neither did the Imperial Armada. Pirates would fly a false flag to draw close, so Imperial frigates would respond in kind. Heavy's like Piorun had their hulls constructed from a particular type of wood, which had the added benefit of causing cannonballs to bounce harmlessly into the sea. There had been numerous other naval powers that wanted to ban the practice, as that particular tree was indigenous only to Szafiria... The Imperial Armada told them to 'go pound sand'.

Given Orzel's position of power, and all the responsibility that came with it, her survival had to be deemed an absolute necessity... So she too would have too take a page or two from Księga Brudnych Sztuczek in the event she was ever actually forced to fight. Gouge the enemy in the eyes, bite his fingers, kick him below the belt, anything to render him no longer a threat... It was definitely something she wouldn't do in training, as it was just training.

"I think we'll wrap it up here for the day. Thank you for your help as always, Private. You're both dismissed." Grim followed up. Orzel nodded to Grunt as he snapped a brief salute before making his departure, that left her and the two giants, both of whom were gathering up the training materials they'd used. The Princess cast a brief incantation, using her magic to swiftly gather the materials and put them in their respective cases, in an effort to save both men some time. They merely nodded their thanks to her, as they did every session, and with that Orzel took her leave of them to find Alba.

Again, she wasn't entirely sure what she'd do when she found her friend, but Orzel supposed it'd probably have something to do with 'getting out there'... Alba was frustratingly insistent that gathering scientific data and experimenting was 'boring'... Unless it had to do with explosives, in which case she was all too eager to assist her 'Boss' in the field. What'd started as employment of convenience had since developed, Alba had a remarkable ability for schedule keeping, which greatly helped Orzel keep track of her daily routine.

She was still developing her KBO, among countless other complicated projects, but... Orzel shook her head, she was allowing her mind to wander on towards her work... It'd still be some time before the next 'Morning' Threat Briefing, and she suspected there would be a great deal of stress that accompanied it. Maybe joining Alba in some harmless fun wouldn't be such a bad idea after all...