Queen Chrysalis walked quietly alongside Pharynx and Thorax at the head of a procession of workers and soldiers... The footfalls of hundreds of determined men and women resonated through the vast complex of tunnels of the hive, onwards towards a large set of ancient stone doors. For countless centuries, the two massive slabs of granite marked the edge of the known world for the countless citizens of the Hive, and of the numerous throngs in accompaniment of the leading trio, only a handful could ever truthfully claim to have seen them, or the world beyond, before that moment.

The ancient chains that operated the great gates were nonetheless carefully maintained, even though they'd never been used once in the nearly one thousand years since the bulk of the Changeling civilization embarked upon its exile to the underground. There were other entrances and exits, carefully hidden among rocks, boulders, or the odd clump of bushes, but they only were intended for those agents, soldiers, and scouts sent to the surface. By contrast, the great doors were hardly hidden by intention, rather the intense weathering from so many years of exterior neglect made them almost indistinguishable from the rock face in which they were recessed.

That era of seclusion, like so many other things about life in the Hive, was about to change. On a day destined to be filled with firsts, Chrysalis had the honor of being the first Queen in all that time to witness the opening of the great doors since Queen Aphid ordered them sealed a thousand years before. Through months of careful meditation, and the recent arrival of what the Equestrian's OPTIC referred to as an 'Arcane Isolation Sarcophagus', the young woman now managed to maintain a significantly larger portion of her sanity than previously thought possible.

She was nowhere near able to retake the throne, as her recovery was contingent on the amount of time she spent within the ornately carved and enchanted stone enclosure, but she would be well enough to lead her people on this most historic occasion... The ending of the Era of Parasitism. From that day forward, in accordance with the Treaty of the Badlands, she and her people would emerge unto the world not as conquerors or underminers, but as a true 'nation-state'...

This new nation would be dubbed the 'Kingdom of Akuchi', derived from the Ancient Changeling name for the region, which roughly translated to 'Badlands'... Changelings weren't the most creative bunch. Nonetheless, Akuchi would be recognized on the international stage as independent of those other factions that would seek to do the world harm, the other hives that operated in the secrecy and seclusion of their underground lairs. It wouldn't be as simple as planting a flag and proclaiming themselves to the world, but Chrysalis was fairly certain she'd selected the right man to lead them into this new age, the Era of Enlightenment, in perhaps a very literal sense.

They would all need to become accustomed to the brightness of the world above... While most would remain in the hive underground at first, this new found ability to live above ground would see their population no longer hindered by available space and the ability to tunnel. They now had a stake in the land above, it was their world as much as it was the Equestrians, and the threat posed by the 'Violets' served as a powerful motivator for Akuchi and Equestria to work together as one. Chrysalis understood just how dire that threat was, in a way no one else could... Standing before the great doors, the hour of emergence was at hand.

"We stand now on the edge of a great change in our fundamental understanding of the world!" The Queen declared, adjusting her silken ceremonial robes as she turned to face the congregation of eager onlookers behind her. Pharynx and Thorax likewise turned, flanking her on either side. "From birth we've been taught that our place is here, underground, out of sight... That the outside world would seek only to destroy us, and thus it was acceptable to steal whatever we deemed necessary from that world. This ideology can be accepted no longer."

The woman shook her head, looking at Pharynx with an expression of genuine admiration. As much as she wished she could keep him as Supreme General, that would prove far too much work for any one man to undertake. Her meditation likewise gave her time to reflect on the teachings of her mother, and on the nature of change. It had been a lack of change that brought on the very stagnation of her people she hoped to undo now. She'd selected someone from his pool of senior officers, under his recommendation, to replace him as he assumed his new role. She just hoped that he didn't come off as too surprised when she bestowed his new title upon him. It was yet another position never to have existed within the Hive prior to her creation of it, as there'd never really been any need.

"It will take a person of great vision to lead us into the world which lays before us. I, your Queen, am unfortunately not that person. Like many of you, I have been raised to think in the old ways, and like you I shall need to learn to think differently." The woman placed her hand on Pharynx's shoulder, smiling faintly as she took in his expression. Up close it was easy to tell that the man was petrified, and perhaps even a little bashful, judging by the faint tinge of red on his cheeks. "I present to you the man that shall lead us into the brave new world... Lord Pharynx, your new High King!" There were numerous murmurings among the crowd, and as she'd expected Pharynx's eyes bulged in their sockets.

"Your Majesty?" Pharynx asked quietly as the crowd continued talking among themselves. "Are you certain you are in possession of your faculties?" It wasn't a question intended to be rude, but a genuine expression of concern, Chrysalis knew that. The implications of the title's relationship to her own also must've been a tad frightening. Unlike the Equestrians, who's overly complex courtship rituals could last months, if not years, Changelings were exceptionally upfront about their intentions... Needless to say, Chrysalis had put the man on the spot. "I am honored by your proposal, my Queen, but... I could not accept if I doubted it was sincere." Chrysalis had expected that too.

"I am sincere, my King. My fondness for you is beyond question." She assured him, then gently pushed him forwards, towards the crowd which was by now starting to calm down. "I shall guide you as best I can in matters of state, but our people need a strong leader. Someone who will look to the future, for the benefit of us all. It was your initiative at the negotiations that made this possible. Were my Mother here, she would approve as well." Pharynx looked back at her, his hardened features softening as he took hold of Chrysalis' hand and squeezed it tightly. "Now go, your people are eager to hear from you." The King nodded silently, setting his jaw and straightening his posture.

"In just a few moments, I will give an order that has not been uttered in our lifetime, or the lifetime of our mothers, or our mothers' mothers." Pharynx began, his voice booming throughout the chamber, ringing with power and strength, something Chrysalis knew that she would be unable to match in her current condition. "There are likely many among you that are frightened that this is the end of your way of life, and you are not wrong, this is an ending... Of a sort. To maintain our current way of life is to consign our people to a life of subsistence and eventual extinction through attrition." The man clasped his hands behind his back, and Chrysalis could sense that there were many in the crowd that agreed with him. There were still those that harbored doubts, but she was pleased to see him winning the people over.

"The world beyond those doors is fast progressing beyond anything many of you have ever seen before, and it is my belief that we have just as much a right to reap the benefits of that progress. To do so, we must choose a different path..." Pharynx's words were swaying more and more, Chrysalis could feel it within the hive-mind. Had she not already agreed with him, she too would be hard pressed to resist his words. "While our sister hives cower in fear of the outside world, we choose to embrace it!"

"We choose step out into the light, and from our humble beginnings within these caves, ascend out of the annals of history and into a glorious new era! " Pharynx pointed stalwartly at the doors. "The journey that lays before us will not be an easy one, there will be obstacles, but we will overcome these hardships and persevere!" He turned his gaze to a small chamber beside one of the massive chains affixed to the doors, within that chamber were the Gatekeepers, all of whom snapped to attention. "As my first act as High King, it is my decree that the gate shall be opened immediately!"

The Gatekeepers sprang into action, scrambling about within their chambers, working the ancient mechanisms with diligence... Much of the technology used to build the gate was lost to the sands of time, but its functions and procedures lived on through their descendants. These were sacred traditions, handed down from the first keepers of the gate, though thought never again to be used in practice. Deep within the hive, down in the ancient chain lockers, arose a thunderous rumble. The very earth shook, and with a raucous clatter the first link in the chains lurched backwards. The gates gradually swung inwards, moving with remarkable smoothness given their size. A brilliant stripe of light materialized between the two monumental slabs, illuminating the atrium and sending a hush through the crowd.

Slowly at first, but with with increasing urgency, the chains disappeared from view into the cavernous chambers below. The world beyond the gates was difficult to see at first, as the brightness of the sun was seldom glimpsed by common Changeling eyes, but as they all blinked the spots from their vision... A new world appeared. Beyond the great gates that'd harbored the people of Akuchi for so many centuries, standing in apparent expectance, a small contingent of men and women in Equestrian clothing stood. Most were civilians, though there were several wearing the desert uniforms of the Equestrian Army. This was outlined in the treaty, so Chrysalis felt no need for concern. Behind them were numerous trucks and tracked vehicles, loaded down with all sorts of building supplies and tools.

Pharynx cast one final look over his shoulder at the crowd, then straightened his posture and took the first steps beyond the gates. Thorax and Chrysalis walked with him, followed shortly there after by those in the crowd brave enough to venture forth. Two Equestrians moved to meet them, one in uniform and another wearing a pair of tan coveralls, though both wore sunglasses of the aviator variety. They met some twenty yards from the gate, out in the blistering sun, stopping to appraise one another.

Pharynx and his contingent bowed respectfully, and upon his rising, the soldier extended his hand. He was a Brigadier General, judging by the single eight pointed sun on his epaulets. The crossed pickaxes on his collar were more difficult to place. Regardless, Chrysalis was pleased to see Pharynx readily accept the man's handshake, and return it with a firm one of his own.

"I'm General Hammer of the Army Corps of Engineers, friends call me Sledge, and y'all are friends for sure! This is my civilian counterpart, Ballpeen. He ain't got no fancy title, except foreman I suppose." The General spoke with a warmness Chrysalis hadn't expected, especially of an Equestrian Army officer, and someone from Lone Star no less... At least judging by the accent.

Sledge was a stout fireplug of a man of fair complexion, his blondish-brown hair cut in typical flattop military fashion. His uniform was already displaying signs of considerable sweat, and Chrysalis suspected when all was said and done his skin would be peeling for weeks. Despite this, however, the look of welcome he extended seemed to suggest a kindhearted temperament. Such was not the case for Ball-peen, who only offered his own hand after hint of hesitance. That was more the reaction the Queen expected, in all fairness.

"We're pleased to begin working with you on the construction of your first above ground settlement." Ball-peen offered rather formally, clasping his hands behind his back. Where Hammer was obviously from Lone Star, Ballpeen's was harder to place, likely Manehattan or Baltimare. Chrysalis detected a slight resemblance between the the two men, not unlike that which she saw between Thorax and Pharynx. Perhaps they were siblings? "Bear in mind, these first few will primarily be pre-fabs. We want your people to get some basic idea of how to build a building before anything else." Sledge patted the man on the shoulder, a wide grin spreading over his face.

"Come on, Ball, always so serious. We can't start yet!" He declared jovially, which caught Chrysalis and the others slightly off guard. The Queen chuckled quietly, recognizing that it seemed the roles of professionalism and openness were reversed, if these two were indeed brothers. She was nearly caught off guard as several intrusive and disturbing thoughts flooded her mind, thoughts of ordering her people to kill the two engineers where they stood... Pharynx would stop her if she couldn't control herself, of course, but... With a great amount of effort she reined in the desire for slaughter, that which was not her own, and tried to put on a brave face.

"We're not just hear to build houses and roads, we're here to build friendship. How can we work together if we don't know each other?" Sledge continued, undoubtedly unaware of the battle of wills raging in the Queen's head. He gestured behind him at the various workers and soldiers, all of whom were watching with evident interest. "Now, our cooks have the know-how to make a real mean barbeque! Ribs! Brisket! Pulled pork and slaw! The works! I'd like to invite you and yours to join us, let our two peoples mingle and get to know one another. No worries, we've got plenty to go around!" Chrysalis looked at Pharynx, and was relieved to see a small smile take shape.

"You are quite right, this is about more than building our settlement. As this is a momentous day for both our peoples, a celebration is certainly in order." Pharynx nodded respectfully, clasping his own hands behind his back. "We would be most pleased to join you for this... Barbeque?" The newly crowned King seemed uncertain of how he felt about the word, but regardless maintained his casual demeanor. "In honor of our new friendship, and preserved peace between us." Somehow the General's face grew even brighter, and with that, the new era had commenced. Whatever the future held was difficult to say, but for now...? Chrysalis was certain she'd made the best choice.

Piercing Gaze sat in his office overlooking the factory floor of the Maksym Field Arsenal, reclining in relative comfort, puffing gently on a fine Ornithian cigar. The past few months had been an... Interesting time to be an arms manufacturer, especially with the revelation of the Changeling Menace. Sales of pistols, rifles, and submachine guns were at an all time high, both from domestic military contracts, foreign Private Military Contractors, and the civilian market.

He had to take a moment to reflect on how it'd all begun, how the world had forever changed... Celestia had urged calm and patience, but people were understandably freaked out. Each province handled it in its own unique way, and polls indicated a record number of people had started attending church. There was nothing like an existential threat to one's very existence to motivate a desire for divine protection... Odds were these numbers would decrease to their previous lows as time went on.

Politically speaking, things were a little more organized. Faced with the threat of Changeling invasion, the National Council had repealed eight decades worth of bills restricting the sale of firearms so as to better facilitate an 'Organic Defense'. These changes came as no surprise to Piercing, or the members of the Crown. The National Council was squarely in a Black Crown super-majority, with Lone Star quickly cementing itself as the party's greatest stronghold. The Noble Party insisted that Equestria only needed the Princesses to protect them, that the military was the only group that should have guns, obviously a great many people disagreed.

The push to repeal the various laws and restrictions were most fervently pushed by councilors that'd served as members of the Lone Star Homeguard. As the Homeguard was uniquely qualified to attest to the need for greater access to firearms, especially as dragon clans were starting to band together to present a more cohesive threat, support for local militias across the country was at an all time high.

The Homeguard was angling to repeal as many arms control laws as possible, not to mention passing new bills that would render future regulation virtually impossible. Up to that point they'd always been stopped by the Noble Party, but now even a number of Noble Party hardliners were on board. The rapidly shifting international political climate, coupled with the emergence of the Changeling Menace, had given the Black Crowns all the leverage they could ever hope for. All in all, between civil and government contracts, BDT's coffers were growing at an almost exponential rate... Lucrative as things were from a business standpoint, that was probably the only place where there was really any good news.

The paranoia that'd taken root in the minds of Equestrians was incalculable, already it was becoming known as 'The Violet Scare'. In the beginning there were several cities, Manehattan, Applewood, and Baltimare, that temporarily devolved into near complete anarchy. Looting, rioting, arson, and myriad of violent crimes became commonplace for a period of three weeks. The mayors of these cities refused the help of the Crown at first, and this quickly led Luna to lose patience with them, and so she proposed it was time the Crown assume direct control. The move was seconded, albeit reluctantly, by her daughter. Order was only restored with the declaration of martial law and the deployment of Lunar Marine Reservists to quell the unrest.

It'd been an extremely uncomfortable discussion in the situation room, but in the end Celestia and Cadence relented that if ever there was a time where Equestria needed a firm hand at the helm, this was it. The deployment of troops to the afflicted areas had been a temporary measure, and law enforcement duties had since been returned to local authorities. Had widespread panic and martial law been the worst of things, Piercing would've called the revelation a resounding success...

The real problem arose when every slightly paranoid personality in the country called their local Police Department or Sheriff's Office to report that they suspected a neighbor, a family member, or even a random person on the street to be an infiltrator. It'd forced Orzel to place every one of her other projects on hold so that she could devote the entirety of her time to developing a 'Changeling Detector', which was ostensibly only to be used to screen persons entering government buildings, in the same way they'd be searched for illegal weapons or other contraband... At least, that was what they'd told Orzel in order to get her to make the damn thing.

She'd made the very accurate point that having police randomly walk up to people on the street, demanding they submit to a random check of their documents without any sort of cause, was exactly the type of thing she'd had to endure in the Szafirian Empire. Unfortunately just checking people as they entered government buildings wasn't enough to quell the mad panic being spread throughout the country's larger cities, not helped in the slightest by the sensationalist rhetoric put forth by newspapers and broadcast companies that, at the time of the announcement, had found themselves in a painfully slow news week.

It put the government in the difficult position of needing to check if people were who they said they were without devolving into an authoritarian police state. Legally they couldn't just go up and demand people randomly submit to searches on the street, nor could they detain individuals without due process in the event those same people refused. Still, that didn't stop various municipalities from doing precisely that... It was all, in their opinion, 'for people's own good'.

News that the detector was being used 'in the field' had filtered to Orzel through Spike, who'd been stopped on the streets of Canterlot seventeen times in one day while visiting the city, purely on account of his draconic appearance. To say the young woman was livid would be an understatement... She'd been so thoroughly apoplectic by the news that her work was being used in such a manner that her considerable accent became nearly indecipherable.

Between her furious draconic tirade and surprising grasp of the draconic library of expletives, it was difficult for anyone to understand immediately what she was saying. Eventually it came to a head when she actually threatened to personally come back to Equestria and... Well, there really wasn't an Equestrian translation that did she'd justice to what threatened to do... Again, Piercing was reminded just how infuriated the young woman could become when her subjects' rights were violated 'under color of law'. Luna somehow managed to once again talk her daughter back from the edge of an Elemental Transformation, but only after the woman promised she'd personally put an end to the random searches.

Things had gradually settled in the intervening months, thanks in large part to a public information campaign carried out by the Ministry of Defense, OPTIC, and the Civil Defense Agency. It included a list of precautions family members could use to protect themselves against infiltration. It also included various pamphlets on how to remain calm in a crisis situation, what families should have on hand to prepare for a potential attack, the best places to seek shelter in the event evacuation was deemed impossible, and other important factoids...

The most controversial step had come from the Army's 'Psychological Warfare Division', which had released a number of posters depicting declassified photographs taken of slain Violet infiltrators, typically accompanied by 'They CAN be KILLED!' in large bold lettering, though there were other similar slogans. The public was being better informed regarding the Changelings, specifically the Violets. Other Changelings, like the Akuchi or a number of 'Neutral Hives', were displayed as allies in the fight against the Violets, or at the very least benign entities.

While there'd been some moral outrage at plastering photos of literal corpses across Equestria, the effect was well worth the backlash. They showed in stark reality that the Violets weren't some faceless, limitless, invincible boogeymen. They were a very strange enemy, certainly, but no less mortal than the average Equestrian. To use a rather dated cliche, knowledge was power. The more knowledge the populace had, the more in control of the situation they felt... Even if that sensation of control was an illusion, the effect it had was very real.

Orzel had made it clear that she would be keeping an eye on the information that was released, ensuring that there were no lies, errors, or exaggerations... This would in turn be checked by Luna, then Celestia, and Piercing himself. If they lied to the public, and the public found out, a great deal of trust would be lost... Trust that, once lost, couldn't be easily regained. Gradually fear and panic was transitioning to resolution and vigilance, and so long as they stuck to the truth, the real truth, with as little 'spin' or hyperbole as possible, it seemed things would be okay. It it would still take time before things went back to normal, or... As normal as could be hoped.

The real help came in the form of nearly twenty-thousand volunteers from Akuchi, who'd agreed to help train the Equestrian military, law enforcement officers, and various militia groups on how to detect infiltrators. Not only in the field, but also among their own ranks. They also helped in assisting police and OPTIC Agents locate Violet infiltrators, not to mention serving as intermediaries to 'Neutral' Hives that didn't necessarily want to go to war with Equestria, especially given its recent increase in defense spending.

Piercing wished that would've been the end of it, but... Equestria wasn't the only country in the world, and the problems they faced were hardly unique. Prance had sealed its borders entirely, the Minotaur Republic was experiencing a drastic uptick in murders of suspected 'infiltrators', and the Griffon Empire...? Well, actually the Empire was handling things rather nicely, all things considered. The death of Emperor Grover and Crown-Prince Stempel were more important to the Griffons at present.

In one bright spot of news, the newly ascended Emperor Guto agreed to renew talks between himself and the Iron Bloods. Relations between North and South remained decidedly frigid, and no one expected the mild thaw to be anything more than a delay of the inevitable, but given everything else that was going on, Piercing was inclined to see a slight pause in the lead up to all out civil war as a 'Win'. As for the dragons... Well... They were dragons. They didn't really care one way or another about the Changelings, with the exception of the Akuchi...

There'd been a time one really knew or cared what happened in the Dragonlands, so long as they stayed in the Dragonlands. That time had long since passed, especially with the upcoming 'Great Dragon Migration' set to take place in a year or so. Now, Lone Star and other provinces in the general vicinity were paying very close attention to what went on south of the border, and they did not like what they were seeing.

The Dragonlands as it stood was a mess of loose alliances and tertiary allegiances, as had been the case for the past several thousand years. The government established by the 'Great Clans' was a precarious house of cards, always on the brink of collapse, just one or two major crises away from falling apart. The first of those two crises was the hardening of Equestria's border, which was requiring smaller clans to band together to raid Equestrian settlements successfully, or to raid each other when those raids inevitably failed.

This had led to the second crisis, a marked decrease in domestic wheat and livestock productivity, with clans often sabotaging their neighbors crops in order to weaken them prior to an attack... As Piercing was all too aware, dragons required an absolutely massive amount of calories to meet their daily nutritional needs. Even the loss of a few fields worth of crops could be enough to upset a clan's ability to feed itself. All was exacerbated by the knowledge that soon, very soon, a massive influx of dragons from the Eastern Dragonlands would arrive...

Between more mouths to feed, less lucrative places to raid, and deteriorating relations between the Great Clans? It was no wonder that the provinces of Lone Star, New Ornithia, and Sweet Water were becoming the second largest market for BDT products after the military.

That brought Piercing back to the present, back to the comfortable chair in his office... Orzel's office. From which he continued to watch the busy factory floor and all the workers that meandered below. Running the company was considerably less stressful than running a country or searching for ancient relics, but... That was like saying juggling chainsaws blindfolded was less stressful than walking a tightrope over an active volcano... Also blindfolded.

Great metal stamping machines rattled and clattered, producing half-finished PM-72A receivers, which in turn made their way down the assembly line to be finished, assembled, and checked for quality. Massive industrial mills chipped away at raw forged receiver 'blanks' for VR-73s, sending strings of blued steel and droplets of cutting fluid to the floor, the former of which would be scooped up for later recycling. Lathes spun, barrels were rifled, and together it all combined to create a nigh-symphonic masterpiece Piercing would never grow tired of hearing... The sound of progress.

They were producing nearly three-hundred VR-73s a day in this factory alone, and double that number in PM-72As and other small arms... Orzel's 'Equalizer' design was proving popular among law enforcement and for home defense, particularly given its ability to reliably fire 'Basilisk' rounds. Never in his wildest dreams would Piercing have imagined that so many different weapons, each devastating in its own right, could be produced in such quantity at the same time, and yet there he was, overseeing it all.

This was only the main building in the entire Maksym Field complex... The others had since been dedicated to the production and quality inspection of ammunition, spare parts, and more 'labor intensive' enchanted products. Progress on automating and industrializing the process was slow, and so far the best solution remained to have individual Quality Inspectors walking the floor... All across the country, in four different manufacturing plants, similar feats of mass production were being accomplished in similar quantities.

Exhaling a small cloud of smoke, Piercing rose from his seat and adjusted the tie of his finely tailored pinstripe suit. He knew that this considerable bump in business they were seeing wouldn't last forever... Sooner or later supply would catch up with demand, and he'd taken steps to ensure they didn't expand too largely in too short an amount of time. He'd increased the availability of overtime for those that wanted it, and prioritized hiring persons with experience working in the firearms industry, or just general experience working a factory, rather than hiring an increased number of unskilled workers.

This would hopefully minimize the number of 'superfluous personnel' should the company need to downsize in the future, as Piercing really didn't like the idea of firing people. It also meant less mistakes, less improperly produced equipment that needed to be weeded out by the QIs, and less accidents among those that still didn't realize just how dangerous working in a factory could be... While the health benefits provided by BDT were extremely generous, there was also a very real risk that a person ignorant to certain dangers could be harmed in the workplace, even with safety precautions in place.

Just two weeks ago, a fresh-faced new-hire made the foolish mistake of wearing her hair down while leaning over a spinning lathe. Thankfully the man training her was quick enough to hit the emergency stop before things went to far, but the accident victim nonetheless suffered several serious injuries... Yeah, that hadn't been a fun conversation with Orzel, which resulted in the implementation of a company wide uniform for factory floor workers.

Blue or black coveralls or overalls, steel-toed boots, and hardhats, as well as a strict policy of either short haircuts or hair ties... No frills, no fringes, nothing that dangled or could get caught in machinery. These were standards she'd wanted implemented from the beginning, but they'd received push back from the workers. Such push back had since disappeared, especially following a campaign similar to that which was used by Army PsyOps. Serious accidents had decreased by thirty-seven percent following the distribution of warning signs that depicted actual wounds inflicted in industrial accidents in all their brutal reality.

Shaking his head, Piercing ran a hand over his short slicked back hair, as was fast becoming the style among industrial executives. He exited the office with a sigh, glancing over his shoulder at the desk, a desk that really shouldn't have been his. The man descended the steps to the factory floor, the machinery sounds becoming far louder as he left the comfort of his office behind. It didn't take him long to reach the exit, passing by several company security guards, each armed with VR-73s and wearing OUBCs produced in that very factory.

The men weren't as necessary now as they'd been before the swearing in of Mayor Rich in Ponyville, which had subsequently ended police interference in the facility's lawful operations. They still had to deal with the occasional crazy activist, but there were none of the firebombs or blatant attempts at intimidation as had previously been the case. In reality the guards were there more to provide assurance to the workers that Maksym Field, deemed a likely target for Violet infiltrators, was as safe as any other factory setting.

There were also a great deal of top secret projects being worked on throughout the complex, though some were more secret than others. He cast a look up at the late summer sky, his attention drawn by an increasingly familiar 'chop-chop-chop-chop' sound...

The source was a trio of olive drab 'light helicopters', the design known as the XM-1 'Hawkeye'. There were only six prototypes currently in flying condition, three of which had been sent over from Raketnaya Aeronautics for further testing at Maksym Field prior to the Army's formal evaluation of the craft. The helicopters themselves were odd looking machines, vaguely insectoid in appearance. The cockpit was encapsulated in a large glass 'bubble', while the rear tail was a lattice of supports, similar in appearance to a large radio antenna. Taken at a glance, it almost like a giant metal dragonfly. Each Hawkeye could carry a pilot and a co-pilot, as well as two passengers, typically in the form of stretchers, one on either side.

The Army had already placed an order for a dozen Hawkeyes, mainly to serve as observation aircraft for artillery spotters, though some were also slated to be included in an experimental medical unit, a sort of hospital that was mobile enough to do surgery close to the front lines... The Navy and Coast Guard also expressed an interest in a variant, dubbed the 'Fisheye', which might conceivably be able to aid in search and rescue at sea. They were limited in size and weight capacity by the power-to-weight ratios of traditional piston engines, but that wouldn't always be the case.

Raketnaya Aeronautics had a number of other potential helicopter plans in the works, including a 'Mid-Sized' utility helicopter and, more interestingly, a project that was increasingly being referred to as a 'Heavy Gunship', nicknamed the 'Crocodile' or 'Flying Tank'. Each of these future designs would theoretically driven by an incredibly novel 'turbo-shaft' engine, the latest prototype of which currently rested in roughly two thousand pieces, each no larger than than a Half-Bit coin...

Seven of said pieces having been removed from a number of researchers working on the project after the prototype decided to fly apart at the seams. Another safety briefing was held, more changes to lab procedure were implemented, and Orzel had displayed a remarkable amount of restraint all things considered... The look on her face when she'd been informed of the 'bone-headed' decision to conduct a test of an experimental jet engine with anyone actually standing in the test chamber was, in a word, dumfounded... That was a lot better than the expected expression, one of profound annoyance.

Thankfully no one had died, though the scientist overseeing the test safety procedures was rightly placed on administrative leave pending a formal inquest. Needless to say, as with all new technologies, there were a number of glitches that needed working out...

Watching the formation of helicopters disappear over the factory, Piercing took another puff on his cigar and resumed his walk towards a waiting convoy of three black HMMVs. Strange as the helicopters might've appeared, they weren't that far off in appearance from a design once penned by Starswirl the Bearded, albeit far more advanced... Piercing was by now accustomed to the miracles of the modern era, but sometimes he just had to stop and take a moment to reflect. Actually, he was doing that a lot more frequently of late...

Piercing one of the HMMVs at random, climbing into the back with an audible grunt. The men inside wore CERPAT combat fatigues with full kit, each with the recent addition of unit insignia sewn to their shoulders. The existence of Cerberus had previously been a closely guarded secret, but there was no way to keep things quiet forever, and revealing that the Crown had founded a specially trained 'Task Force' to deal with paranormal threats had been seen as a step towards maintaining order and displaying that things were under control.

"Alright, lads. Already late as it is, let's get going." Piercing said, doing his best to get comfortable in the rear seat. The convoy of HMMVs started along away from the factory, taking a route past the various aircraft hangars and revetments. There were numerous other buildings that'd since gone up, mostly pre-fabricated structures to be used as laboratories, workshops, and an indoor firing range. Within a few minutes they were passing what used to be base housing for the officers of Prado Dorado AAB, and it served a similar purpose now under BDT management.

Now it was temporary housing for researchers and senior administrative staff, particularly those that didn't want to commute so far to and from Canterlot every day. They'd spend a few days at a time there, then go home. Most of the problems with regard to commuting would be sorted out with the completion of 'Basilisk Tower', the company's headquarters in Canterlot, which was currently under construction. For now they had to settle for a small branch office in Ponyville, the de facto headquarters until the real one was finished.

Finally they arrived at the the front gate, where the security guards took a few minutes to ensure that the convoy was indeed slated to depart. Piercing sighed as the convoy passed through the large metal security gate, driving past a sizable concrete plinth with a recently restored 'Landship' mounted on it. This was the very same that'd originally been slated for the target range when the company first purchased the airfield, affectionately nicknamed 'The General'.

The area was now protected by Basilisk's internal security forces, with the entrance being marked by a simple white sign that read 'Welcome to the 'Maksym Field' Arsenal - Birthplace of the PM-72' in bold black lettering. The company logo, two crossed basilisk cannons, rested a little to the side. Thankfully there'd been a stop to graffiti of late, though there were still a handful of protestors assembled on the other side of the remote rural roadway.

Their numbers had dwindled in recent months, with many having become customers of BDT in response to the news... These few 'Hardline Pacifists' still stuck around, waving signs depicting peace symbols and slogans like 'Close the Armory! Bring back Harmony!' and others of similar sentiment. Piercing supposed he could agree with their statements, in a philosophical sense, but... He'd been around far too long to be swayed by the hopeless idealism portrayed in those signs.

So long as there were people on Equus there would always be war, it was just in people's nature. Resources, ideology, the causes for conflict mattered little. Just because the Akuchi wanted to negotiate didn't mean the same could be said for the Violets, or any number of other villains from Equestria's history. Still, as Piercing watched the small contingent of protestors vanish through the window, he found himself wondering what would happen next...

Would it truly be the Changelings that struck first? The dragons? The Griffons? Perhaps some other unseen threat? Would all the work they were doing be enough to stem the tide, or was defeat inevitable... Would all of Equestria be obliterated, from the eldest Princess to the youngest child? If that were the case, would it not have been better to let people live in ignorance?

No... No, Piercing didn't think so. Orzel was right... They deserved the truth, the real truth... Unadulterated, undiluted, perfectly transparent. For nearly a thousand years they'd concealed the danger, they'd allowed people to live in a perfect world, a world without existential enemies. With that in mind, it was no wonder that so many people had completely lost control of their senses for a time. One morning everything was fine, and the next? There were shape shifters, shape shifters that might want to come into their homes and kill them, their families, and everyone they ever loved...

In a way, the calamity of the Violet Scare had burned away much of the mask people wore. It hadn't changed what sort of people they were, only made it more apparent to the world at large. That people were still protesting outside of Maksym Field either showed their commitment to the noble cause of peace, even in the face of total annihilation, or the ignorance of the danger they faced... In this instance, Piercing wanted to believe it was the former. Whether those sentiments would remain unaltered with the passage of time was anyone's guess, for now there was nothing to do but focus on the present...

It was late morning in Neighport News, with the sun rising higher and higher into a clear late summer sky. The smell of sea water was something Princess Orzel had become far more accustomed to in her time at Site R, but it was different here... The flicking of her tongue revealed that there was oil here, coupled with exhaust, fish, and all manner of other goods that transited the channel to the open sea. The most present scent on her serpentine tongue, however, was a mixture of welding gas, fresh paint, and Bay Rum aftershave...

The young woman stared silently upon the fully completed form of ESS Sokol from one of the innumerable piers at the Neighport News Naval Yard. The carrier was just impressive as when she'd first laid eyes upon her, though she was riding considerably lower in the water now that she'd been given her engineering plant and other assorted equipment. The railings lining her flight deck were adorned with blue and white bunting, while the deck itself was loaded down with a contingent of 'Sea Hare' fighter aircraft.

This was the first time the ship's crew was fully assembled, with many of them standing ready and awaiting the order to go aboard. It would come, in due time. Adorned in their blue double breasted dress uniforms, which now included the addition of telnyashkas, Orzel almost felt as if she was looking upon a contingent of Imperial sailors. The stage and other accompanying fixtures were much the same as the christening, from the presence of a Navy band to the ravenous reporters, thankfully held back by a barricade manned by sailors and Lunar Marines.

Orzel would need to make decent use of this period of time in the limelight, even if she was loathe to engage the press. The journey from a highly secluded island in the far-flung South Luna Ocean, situated at the literal edge of the map, had been a lengthy one... It'd be an equally lengthy trip back. Fortunately she'd been able to get a decent amount of work done on yet another of her projects for the Navy. The journey was conducted using a decommissioned Cachalot-class Diesel-Electric Fleet Submarine, the Ex-ESS Moby, hull designation SSK-571... The name of the class certainly seemed fitting, as the sub's profile greatly resembled a Cachalot, more commonly known as a 'Sperm Whale', with its bow angled vertically and its lines remaining more or less straight before tapering off near the stern.

The Cachalot-class was the Equestrian navy's newest submarine class, but ESS Moby had been decommissioned on account of an underwater collision with an uncharted undersea mountain, which had crumpled a good deal of the sub's forward compartments inward. Ex-ESS Moby was sent to Site R originally to be expended as a target ship, but the various engineers and scientists there saw the opportunity to restore the submarine for use in underwater research. It'd done well in that respect, but another close-call on account of the researchers not knowing how to actually operate a submarine put an end to that plan as well...

Since then Ex-ESS Moby found itself spending a good deal of its time in Pulauapi's underwater submarine pen, yet another of the various facilities Orzel had discovered at Site R. As it turned out, the Princess was actually in the market for a submarine to use as a testbed for a myriad of projects. ARMA was all to eager to let someone else pay for the sub's upkeep, and so she'd purchased the sub for the rock bottom price of one-hundred Bits...

Orzel had since taken possession of the submarine, renaming it 'Nautilus', in honor of both the cephalopod and the submersible captained by the Nameless Man in one of her favorite science-fiction novels. The submarine, now officially registered as Orzel's 'private yacht', was in this case being used the young woman's research on Air Independent Propulsion, a means of allowing a submarine to operate underwater virtually indefinitely, without needing to surface.

In a traditional Diesel-Electric, the diesel engines would be run on the surface, charging banks of batteries while simultaneously generating electricity to turn the large electric motors that actually spun the propellers. The diesels couldn't run without access to oxygen, as would be the case while underwater, thus the submarine would rely on its batteries for propulsion. An Air Independent Propulsion system was, as the name would suggest, a means of propulsion without access to air, beyond the standard batteries.

The regular batteries already in service were dangerous enough already, as exposure to sea water presented a sizable risk of generating a deadly cloud of chlorine gas. Seeing as a submarine tended to operate in the sea, where there was a good deal of sea water, and it was a highly enclosed space, being gassed to death was a very real danger. There were numerous prototype AIP systems that'd been tested, but most of them proved too hazardous to the crew, relying on highly volatile chemicals that were surprisingly more dangerous than the existing battery system.

These prototypes had been focused on feeding the engines oxygen underwater, so that the diesels could operate while submerged... Orzel's system, on the other hand, focused more on the 'Electric' in Diesel-Electric. Specifically she'd decided to use an upscaled and heavily modified version of the enchantment she'd developed allowing for the conversion of magic into electricity and vice versa. In place of large, cumbersome, dangerous batteries, Orzel had devised a much more compact 'Arcane Battery'... Compactness being relative, as each was approximately the size of a refrigerator. Based primarily on large modular assemblies of Arcanium crystals, they also had the benefit of not producing poison gas when exposed to sea water.

The diesel engines could charge the crystals as they did typical batteries, or a sufficiently powerful spell-caster could directly infuse them with their own magic. The compactness of the batteries allowed more space for provisions, ordnance, or even more arcane batteries to further increase the submarine's endurance... At least, theoretically. This had allowed Nautilus to sail eastward from Site R, then south around the Storming Horn of Amazonia, and back up to Neighport News, without having to surface to charge her batteries once...

Orzel had been the one feeding the batteries, purely to test how long they could operate if charged in such a manner. It seemed that so long as a spell-caster had enough magic to spare, and it was indeed quite a lot of magic, the submarine could remain underwater almost indefinitely. Of course, they still needed to surface for air, but this was typically done at night to further preserve the Nautilus' stealth capabilities. The test of the engine's battery charging capabilities would be the subject of the return voyage.

Even now, as Orzel pondered the journey from Site R to Neighport News and back again, the young woman new Nautilus to be waiting just a few miles off shore. Waiting for the ceremony to be over so that Orzel could once again go aboard and endure another month long journey under water... So again, she would need to make decent use of her time in the limelight...

She'd only been permitted to return to the mainland for one single purpose, and it wasn't an extended 'Real World' test of the gratifyingly named 'Orzel Drive'. No, her reason for returning to the Motherland was one that proved increasingly bittersweet. ESS Sokol's sea trials were finally at an end, her fitting out was fully completed, her aircraft and aircrews fully trained and prepared. The ship was therefore ready to be fully commissioned into the Equestrian Navy, and as the vessel's sponsor, Orzel would sooner die than miss that occasion.

The ceremony was already well underway, with Commander Maelstrom already in the process of addressing the crowd and his crew. The media was meanwhile snapping as many photographs as humanly possible, none of the outlets wanted to miss a chance at seeing the 'missing' Princess Orzel... She wasn't about to allow their presence ruin the event for her.

Her crown rested atop her head, seated above the omnipresent headscarf and the horns that jutted from specially placed slots she'd added. She'd decided to wear the same gown as the day she'd first christened the ship, including the more or less decorative sash, both of which needed slight alternation to accommodate her more muscular physique. It didn't quite match as well now given her exceptional tan, but she wasn't really particularly concerned with that either.

A finely polished wooden box rested in her lap, the item contained within was more than a little responsible for a tightness building in the girl's throat, especially as she watched a small overhead formation of seagulls... Their squawking calls had abated, as if they too understood what sort of occasion it was for Orzel. Just as the christening of the ship once served as a means of emotional catharses, the commissioning would likely prove just as meaningful.

Luna was seated to her right, looking tentatively at the box, though her face was otherwise devoid of expression. Orzel didn't blame her Mother for the hidden uncertainty, she wasn't entirely sure what she planned to do was right herself, but she had to do something. The truth was finally revealed to Orzel some time after her seventeenth birthday, and the fact Sokol's body was somehow stolen was still a difficult pill to swallow. That the information was hidden from her for so long was annoying, but frankly unsurprising.

So, armed with that new found revelation, Orzel opted to do what she could, and requested the release of the rest of her birth Mother's personal affects. Well, more threatened to march personally into HQ and remove them by force if necessary than 'requested'... Perhaps she hadn't handled the news all that well after all.

It was by her decree that a large marble cenotaph was being erected in the Castle gardens on the sight where Orzel first came to this world, and it was in the Eastern Guard Tower that the majority of Sokol's items would be interred until such time as her remains were recovered. The cenotaph would be decorated with priceless sapphires and the emblem of the Imperial Armada, to serve doubly as a memorial to the Fall of Cesarski and all the lives lost therein. It would be watched over day and night by Lunar Marines, each with orders to maintain a calm and respectful atmosphere, and to shoot anyone that dared loot the gemstones there enshrined. That last particular order was, again, Orzel's doing.

Mother and Aunt Celestia disapproved, but by this point the girl was frankly out of patience as far as preserving Sokol's memory was concerned. That someone went so far as to steal her birth Mother's corpse proved there were people for whom no wretched act was too lowly, and anyone who attempted to further desecrate Sokol's place of spiritual rest would have to do so at their own mortal peril.

It perhaps wasn't the most 'Equestrian' thing to order, granted, but on this matter Orzel would not budge. Mother could've countermanded her orders, as Orzel wasn't technically old enough to authorize the use of lethal force, but it Luna at least tacitly agreed that any grave robbers foolish enough to attempt to steal from a memorial in the middle of one of the most heavily guarded complexes in the known world probably had it coming.

Only one item wouldn't be placed under the watchful protection of the soldiers that guarded the Eastern Guard Tower, that object which now resided in the box Orzel held. Its contents would instead be entrusted to the Captain and crew of ESS Sokol, and passed on to any subsequent ships in the future that might bear that name. After all, with Aircraft Carriers being a novel class of capital ships, they needed an equally new tradition of sorts...

Turning her attention to the left, Orzel set her eyes on the young man seated beside her... Spike, whom was attired in his dark khaki CDA dress uniform, topped by a rogatwyka. His uniform tunic displayed numerous ribbons above his left breast, each representing the growing number medals he'd been awarded for his various acts of heroism... Both at the Rose Crash, and other dangerous situations that followed. They weren't nearly as dangerous for him as other people, but that didn't stop people from being impressed by the young man's natural inclination to put his life on the line.

Though the uniform was tailor-made to fit his robust physique, it still looked as thought it was struggling to conform to his impressively built form. The young man's constant efforts to train for greater strength and endurance were actually rather uncommon among dragons, who spent most of their down time fighting among themselves. As such, Spike's focused efforts had bestowed upon him an appearance that might well have been the closest anyone in modern times could get to the West Parthenian mythical figures of Achilles or Heracles. Between that physical strength, the snappiness of his uniform, his considerably more confident personality, and a considerable amount of Bay Rum aftershave...? Orzel had never found him more handsome.

They'd been afforded little time together, no more than a few minutes, but... They had been some of the happiest minutes of Orzel's recent life. Getting to speak with him in person, with her real physical form... Actually getting to hold his hand... For as 'real' as the Astral Projection spell could make things seem, there was nothing that could compare to actually talking to someone face to face. Unfortunately, she'd be allowed just as little time to converse with him before she had to return to Nautilus...

The girl was pulled from her thoughts by a sudden outburst of applause from the crowd, followed quickly by a subtle nudging of Luna's elbow at Orzel's right, snapping her back into the moment just as the national anthem began to play from the nearby assembled band. She was grateful for the reminder, for the moment of commissioning was close at hand. All stood for the anthem, which boomed throughout the Naval Yard with an audible spirit of triumph, echoing across to a number of dry-docks... Dry-docks where a pair of other Sokol-Class aircraft carriers were already in the process of being laid down.

Orzel had to wonder just what Sokol might've felt in that moment, knowing that her legacy in this world would be as the namesake of what was, without question, the most advanced Naval Weapons Platform ever devised... Where before the girl suspected the woman would be displeased with Equestrian ideals, now she was almost certain that the cause of freedom was one Sokol would be willing to fight for in earnest. She couldn't exactly place why that was the case, it was just... Something she'd got a feeling about, not long after she'd lost contact with Midnight. The familiar had yet to return to her...

As the anthem gradually came to an end, Commander Maelstrom was joined at the podium by Admiral Weigh Anchor, the officer who would be transferring command of ESS Sokol from the Department of the Navy to the Captain himself. From within his coat the Admiral withdrew a folded letter, held closed by a bronze colored wax seal, depicting Orzel's personal emblem.

"In accordance with Royal Directive Seven-Nine-One dash Twelve, by order of Her Royal Highness, Crown-Princess Orzel, I hereby commission the warship 'ESS Sokol', designation CV-1, into the active service of the Equestrian Navy and the Crown!" Weigh Anchor proclaimed loudly, and with a significant amount of gravitas that Orzel hadn't particularly expected, considering the Admiral still fanatically opposed naval aviation as a passing fad. "Your orders, Captain." The Admiral handed the letter to Maelstrom for him to read, then saluted, an act the Commander readily returned.

"I relieve you, sir!" Maelstrom's scratchy voice rang loudly and clearly, before both men lowered their arms to their sides.

"I stand relieved." Weigh Anchor' came off as less profound than before, but it was obvious there existed at least some aspect of the ceremony he stood by. The entire crowd, including Orzel, turned to look upwards at the newly commissioned ESS Sokol. A long blue and white pennant was rapidly hoisted up a halyard on her superstructure, streaming gracefully in the breeze. The new Equestrian Naval Ensign followed soon thereafter, with the Bronze Dragon insignia superimposed over plain blue and white striped field.

"Our orders are as follows." Maelstrom announced, once again drawing all eyes back to him. "ESS Sokol will depart Neighport News for her new home port in Baltimare, where upon she shall take on her full stock of fuel and munitions. She will then depart to join the rest of her consorts at sea and await further instructions."

The man lowered the orders and tucked them into his pocket. Orzel was well aware of just where ESS Sokol would be heading after provisioning in Baltimare, it was a little more involved than joining up with a few other ships. She would serve as the flagship of a new 'Carrier Battle Group', a task force of highly mobile surface ships and submarines, capable of moving at close to thirty knots if necessary.

The rest of the group would be comprised of two Baltimare-class battlecruisers, two Vega-class light cruisers, a squadron of new Alpheratz-class destroyers, three Calachot-class submarines and a myriad of support and replenishment vessels. All totaled, Sokol's CVBG would represent a considerable amount of Equestrian naval firepower, and there was a very good reason for that. Once assembled, the CVBG would then get underway to take station in international waters off the coast of the Griffon Empire...

Officially this was to test Sokol's endurance and assess the Navy's underway replenishment capabilities. In actuality, it was to remind the newly crowned Emperor Guto that Equestria could and would be keeping a close eye on the activities of the Imperial Griffon Navy, especially their submarines. It was also to further ensure that the flow of iron from the Northern Provinces to the rest of the world remained constant, even if negotiations between North and South broke down again.

It was a far cheaper and quicker alternative to the problem than dragging both sides to the table for lengthy and likely unproductive negotiations every time one side wanted to take a jab at the other, and it certainly beat actually putting boots on the ground. The aspect about 'underway replenishment' wasn't entirely inaccurate either, as it this particular mission would present logistical challenges the likes of which the Navy hadn't encountered before. The deployment of a Carrier Battle Group to the Eastern Celestia Ocean would mark Equestria's first overt departure from the policy of 'Soft Power' in over a hundred years...

With the Changeling threat still in play, and the likely possibility that the Empire was compromised by the Violets, such changes couldn't be helped. Of course Orzel knew it wasn't so simple as that... The threats on land and at sea went beyond Griffon submarines, Changeling infiltrators, or Dragon raiding parties.

At sea there was an increasingly capable contingent of pirates operating in both oceans, some of whom actually had access to iron hulled ships. On land, countless small warlords rampaged upon the shores of nations most Equestrian's couldn't pronounce, let alone find a map. While note a direct threat to Equestria, most of these embattled countries weren't above allowing pirate vessels to operate out of their ports. No matter how many of the enemy ships were sunk, more always seemed to crop up to take their place... Perhaps it was good that Equestria's Navy take a more... Direct approach.

"Now, there is one final course of business. Your Highness?" Maelstrom's voice drew Orzel from her thoughts, back to the task at hand. The Commander looked to her, the signal for her to rise from her seat at the rear of the stage and approach the podium with the box in hand.

The Princess took a deep breath, crossing the distance with poise and grace more befitting her title than her previous visit to Neighport News. She didn't feel like she was going to throw up this time, which was a nice plus. The young woman stopped beside Maelstrom, who turned and snapped a sharp salute

"We are awaiting your first command, ma'am." Maelstrom repeated, Orzel nodded quietly, then offered the box to the newly minted Captain, a gift gingerly accepted.

"Let this find an honored place aboard your ship, Captain, that it may serve as a reminder that the freedom our motherland so cherishes is never without cost." Orzel's voice was measured and calm, twin-toned as it was, though she was gradually feeling the rising surge of emotion in her mind.

Maelstrom opened the wooden box, examining its contents with obvious understanding and reverence. The helmet worn by Sokol on that night over a year ago, polished and cleaned of blood, but nonetheless battered and damaged, protected in a glass display case. It took a great deal of mental effort to allow Maelstrom to take the box from her grasp, which she suspected the Captain realized, judging by the solemnity of his movements.

"Now..." Orzel turned to face the rest of the assembled crew, ignoring the flashbulbs of eager reporters. "My command is simple..." Only then did her voice betray the slightest hint of fracture. "Man our ship and bring her to life!"

The stench of rotting fish combined with the distinct odor of burning welding gases, an aroma that not even the largest industrial fans could fully purge from the dark dank chamber on the south-western coast of the Griffon empire. The scent of sea water was almost overpowering when combined with that of diesel fuel, which gave the water in the dingy submarine pens occasional glimmers of an oily rainbow. The walls, once mere blank concrete, now sported thousands of pictographs, the scriptures of the Elder Ones on display for all to see. Despite its construction of concrete, steel, and other highly advanced materials, there was a distinctly ancient aura about the place.

The facility's true age and purpose remained unknown, though it likely predated even the earliest of dragon civilizations. While capable of servicing five submarines, only one was currently occupied. The sleek black hull of a Snow-Class submarine, streaked with blotchy lines of rust, a color that bore frightening resemblance to that of blood. Tied up as she was beside one of the underground piers, so dimly illuminated by the glow of lavender shaded phosphorescent fungi that lined the walls and ceiling, the sub's presence virtually oozed with foreboding. This particular submarine, purchased at auction from the Griffon Empire for a generously low price, was known to the facility's current inhabitants as 'Nyja'.

Several bits of ornamentation gave the illusion that despite having been sold off by her builders, she continued to serve her former masters in the Imperial Griffon Navy. These alterations, however, were in the process of being replaced by newer, more spiritually agreeable imagery... Her less than successful missions to the Bugbear Coast had been canceled, and so there was little need to keep the fraudulent livery. Nyja's conning tower was one place now adorned in its typical fashion, displaying dark metallic statuettes, jagged representations of creatures of the strangest sort. Beneath them were painted amalgamations of tentacles and gnashing teeth, broken up wide staring eyes that could bore into the very souls of men.

A single imposing figure stood atop the conning tower, adorned in ragged hooded robes of such unimaginable blackness, they seemed capable of absorbing all light around them. With arms outstretched and head tilted back, he absorbed the the sounds that surrounded him. Most were the result of low droning chants echoed throughout the cavernous chamber, emanating from small clusters of tunnels which only recently had been bored into the walls and rocks.

These tunnels ran for miles, amplifying the reverent baritones into an unearthly dirge, housing the numberless other faithful children of the Elders that inhabited that most desolate forgotten citadel of Ancient construction. To the outside observer, those that didn't understand the truth of the Elder Ones, this facility would sound like a place of absolute horror... To Haros, High Inquisitor and Supreme Magician to her Majesty, Queen Infernalis, they were all the sounds of pure adulation.

While the crew of Nyja worked tirelessly to prepare their ship for departure on its next mission, the mighty Haros maintained his silent meditation, with eyes closed and mind open. He'd entered a state of deep introspection, and with the eminent power of the Queen and the Elder Ones, he could see beyond the limited scope of his own meaningless existence. To access the communal link between all his brethren took great courage, as only the faithful could glimpse the humors of the Elder Ones and live. Though they communicated almost exclusively through vivid imagery, the clarity of these images had become more defined than it had been in his previous centuries of loyal service, and it was all thanks to him.

The enemies of his people had tried to confine the consciousnesses of two Elder Ones. They were ignorant apostates, ephemeral mortals that could never hope to defeat the powers of the Gods, and yet foolishly sought to oppose them. Mere concrete and steel could not contain beings of such power, and though the majority of the Priestesses sent to accept their minds into her own had been lost, his procurement of the sacred texts of the Elder Ones made her loss all but inconsequential. After all, there were plenty of other Priestesses capable of taking their place, the Queen made certain of that. The seclusion of the physical bodies of the Elder Ones, unfortunately, was not something so easily overcome.

Without their mortal vessels, the single Elder One they'd managed to preserve would forever be relegated to inhabiting the mind of a willing celebrant, or otherwise interfaced with the communal link... A link through which they guided their people on the path of righteousness and bliss, through the very images which Haros now meditated so deeply upon. It was perhaps for the best that they resided among the great ocean of all minds, as they could soon spread their wisdom to all their descendants around the world. When all was done, the disparate enclaves of Haros' people would be peacefully united, and would rule over all the world everlasting. A world reshaped in their image.

Yet even now, Haros could see images of those that would seek to undermine the greatness of the Elder Ones. The very same beings that had cast his ancestors out once before, foul chimeric warriors once thought banished to the fires of the underworld, now plotted to once again undo the gifts of the Elder Ones.

The Inquisitor could see it all so clearly, and yet the images faded just as quickly as they came. A battle raged long ago, on the distant shores of another ocean, another continent. His people leading vast armies under the guise of dragons, the warriors clad in armor of red and orange, fighting against bronze golems of flesh and blood that'd came by sea... The Ancients and their unnatural army were on the verge of defeat, on the verge of finally being eliminated once and for all, and just as his side was about to emerge victorious...? The unholy demonic enemies of the Elder Ones sent them all away, banished the emissaries of the True World to the fiery underworld, where they could commune with their children no longer.

The Elder Ones sensed that at least one the chimeric soldiers of their Ancient foes had returned... Or was it two? Perhaps it was an even greater number now? It seemed to fluctuate wildly at times, as the visions were never fully clear, much to Haros' frustration. No matter the number, the Elder Ones had bestowed upon him a holy task... A holy crusade to seek out the enemies of his Gods and destroy them once and for all! With this realization came purpose, with purpose came faith, and with faith came strength.

Haros would undertake the righteous task as ordained by the Elder Ones, and strike down the foes that could hope to stand in the way of his people's destiny. His task was the will of the Gods. He would destroy the last vestiges of the ancient enemy, and he would not do so alone. Opening his eyes, Haros turned his attention to the pier where a collection of holy warriors stood, attired in the uniforms and equipment of the Imperial Griffon Army.

They gray wool fabric was incongruous against their pale purple-ish skin and vibrant violet eyes stared back at him, silently yearning to hear the Inquisitor speak, urging him to give them their new mission. How he yearned to give the order to send them forth and hunt down the Ancient vermin, to scour the world clean of the filth! The day would come, of that he was certain, but... This was not that day.

The Queen had decreed that they were to assist the Griffon Empire in regaining control of its northern territories. Attempting to intimidate them through the sinking of their merchant ships hadn't worked, now he intended to make a more overt display of the Empire's resolve. Haros himself couldn't have cared less what happened to the Empire, one way or another, but there were a great many officials that secretly held to the beliefs of the Elder Ones, not to mention those that were outright changeling plants.

It was through them that his Hive was regularly supplied with sustenance... Typically in the form of prisoners and other people that the Empire needed to 'disappear'. The hive had unfortunately dropped the ball when it came to the Northerners... No one could've imagined the Iron Bloods would ever actually gain popularity, the notion of violating the will of the reigning monarch was inconceivable to most Changelings... What was worse, Adler von Eisenblut and his compatriots were too well guarded to be replaced, especially with the rumors that the outside world might know about the hive...

Again, Haros put little stock in those rumors, and even if he did it wasn't as if the outsiders could do anything about it. His faith would shield him and his brethren from the forces of the unclean, and soon all would be set right. Haros had no doubt that what he and his brothers were about to do was not only necessary, but just and noble, for it was the divine decree of the Elder Ones. Who but a heretic would challenge the will of the Gods? Certainly not an Inquisitor! No... This mission would show any that doubted the true faith, few as there were, that the Elder Ones were with them!

"Hallowed are the Elder Ones!" Haros' voice boomed from atop the conning tower, the man bringing his hands together, a large grin spreading widely. A resounding chorus repeated the words back at him, nearly twenty voices strong, the maximum number of troops that could be taken aboard Nyja. The rest had already departed aboard other submarines. "It gives me great satisfaction to see you all here today. We have been called upon once more to aid our fellow travelers on the path of righteousness. Your group in particular shall be directed by myself." He clasped his hands behind his back, eyes narrowed menacingly beneath his cowl. Haros' grin grew wider, unnaturally so, allowing a low chuckle to rumble forth...

"We shall sail to the village of Kaltwasser, which has foolishly turned against our generous Griffon hosts, and make an example of them..." The man leaned against the railing of the conning tower, he could see in the eyes of his men. The excitement, the anticipation... The exultation! "Your comrades shall raid other villages, they shall burn them to the ground, just as you will. Leave only one survivor, take your fill of rest, then slaughter whatever we cannot consume... When all is said and done, history will show that we are the righteous side! That we are good and kind! That our empathy is boundless! For we shall provide these heretics the merciful escape from their unholy lives!" The man snapped to attention, then clenched his fist and held it out before him. "For the Elder Ones!"

"For the Elder Ones!" The assembled warriors chanted back at him, over and over again, echoing throughout the chamber. Haros' eyes widened with unparalleled glee, watching as the men working on the submarine likewise paused in their labor to snap to attention and respond in kind. All throughout the hive, for miles and miles of tunnels, hundreds of thousands of voices erupted to join him... It was truly glorious. There could be no denying it, history would record theirs as truly the just and righteous side in the coming struggle!

Standing upon any of the numerous balconies of the ancient stone monastery atop Mount Wiedza, one could not be faulted for believing that they stood at the very pinnacle of creation. The craggy frigid mountain, surrounded by drifts of snow, was almost constantly embattled by blizzards, harsh winds, and all of nature's fury. On those few days were the storms departed to reveal blue skies, the world below would still find themselves shrouded beneath blankets of vaporous clouds, leaving the mountain and several of its taller neighbors as islands in a sea of ivory.

Mount Wiedza and the lands around it were considered hallowed ground, even among the Great Clans of the Southern Dragonlands, a place of peace and sanctuary, where people of all types, dragon or otherwise, were welcomed with open arms. It was this reputation for peace that had seen Wiedza become a sort of 'neutral zone', where clans could come to meet and discuss matters without fear of being attacked by the other, as any that broke the sacred trust would surely bring the rage of all the other clans down upon them. Therefore, it stood to reason that the monk that administrated the monastery, known as a 'Magus', likewise held considerable sway over the Great Clans. It was not a position to be given lightly...

Magus Topaz stood upon the balcony of his private chambers, basking in the beauty of Lexicos' creation with hands clasped together and head bowed in silent prayer. The frigid wind swayed the fabric of his hooded robes as surely as it toyed with the lengthy beard that dangled from his face. The chill of such a high altitude affected him little, as he was a 'Fire Dragon'. The fires of creation burned twice as fiercely in his chest, as did his passions and emotions.

Though he numbered somewhere at eight-thousand years, he had only ever come to this place several hundred years ago... Until that time, Topaz had held a reputation as one of the most hot-headed enforcers in Clan Firebrand, strongest of all the Great Clans... There was a time when Topaz was even the odds-on favorite to succeed his brother, Dragon Lord Torch, and even a time when Topaz had eagerly awaited the day he could run the Gauntlet of Fire, scythe through his opponents, and claim the unbelievable power of Dragon Lord for himself...

It'd all changed when Hematite, his mate whom he'd been with since he was just twenty-years old, had been slain in a battle with the Reavers... Eight-thousand years... Eight-thousand years he had spent with her, fathering countless thousands of sons and daughters, each of whom he treasured dearly... Each of whom brought the two of them closer together. Topaz was beyond inconsolable, and no amount of fighting the Reavers himself could make the pain dissipate... So he started wandering until one day, through no real thought on his own, he found himself standing at the base of Mount Wiedza.

Finding the ancient stone steps, Topaz welcomed the challenge they presented, and so he'd spent two days climbing and climbing, until finally... The monastery was in sight. The monks had taken him in, and though he rebuffed their assurances that Lexicos 'loved him', they nonetheless taught him their ways. Taught him to meditate, taught him to control the fires that raged deep inside... Gradually he came to believe the monks, that Lexicos did love him, that she wanted him to find his way again, and from that point on he had dedicated himself wholly to his new found faith...

Now Topaz was on the other side of his story, so to speak... Every now and then the monastery would be visited by some lost soul, beaten down by the world, or hopped up on fury. Most managed to find the answers they didn't know they were seeking, and subsequently found the path back to their old lives, but a few chose to stay...

With his eyes closed and his mind open, he reflected upon his life in silent meditation, smiling faintly in divine serenity. The visions within his mind were some of the most sublime a mortal being could conjure, a world of infinite peace and splendor, unified through understanding and knowledge. Here in a field of perfect serenity, Topaz recalled the most recent pilgrimage he'd made from the monastery to the far flung land of Equestria, at the behest of Lexicos herself...

It hadn't taken Topaz long to realize why he'd been charged with such a task, nor was he surprised as to why Lexicos chose him in particular to undertake the journey. Given the news he'd learned upon his return to assume the role of Magus, Topaz was further assured in his belief that his lengthy trek northwards could very well be one of the most important ever undertaken by a member of his order... One of the eldest chapters of the Orthodoxy in existence.

The Griffon Empire was taking the first tentative steps towards expansionism and brutal repression, all whilst the Northern Provinces had continued to step up their separatist rhetoric... This, however, was nothing compared to the growing calamity within the Dragonlands. A calamity that was, fittingly enough, one of their own making. In Topaz's opinion, the unaffiliated clans had relied upon their ability to raid Equestrian settlements for too long. They'd allowed raiding to supplant the expansion of knowledge that might otherwise alleviate their problems, and it was coming back to bite them now that the border was firming up.

The declaration of the new 'Kingdom of Akuchi', situated in territory deemed uninhabitable by the Great Clans, was of equally great concern. Though no land was actually taken from any of the Great Clans, there was nonetheless a deeply held sense that these 'Changelings' somehow cheated the dragons out of territory. The distrust generated by the fact that these newcomers were shape shifters, a distrust Topaz himself shared, was equally potent.

The Magus had no idea how the Equestrians could align themselves with a people that could so readily take the form of another, but he supposed it was within their nature to want to befriend as many people as possible. Was it not the divine decree of Lexicos that the peacemakers of the world would be blessed in such endeavors? Surely she would have communicated a desire to end the Akuchi by now, especially given how vocal she'd been regarding other sects of the Changeling species. The Ancient scrolls told of similar creatures, servants of the abyss, whom had done battle with Lexicos and her children, the Nōsphērghol, the true name of those the world called 'Kwarczkie'....

That was why he found himself humbled at the journey he'd taken, and assured that it was indeed one of great importance. He'd met a Nōsphērghol... An actual child of Lexicos, a race long thought to have been exterminated by the fledgling 'Great Clans' before such an alliance resembled anything close to a cohesive state... The scrolls left by Lexicos and the Ancients, entrusted to Topaz's monastery, indicated that the Nōsphērghol were indeed the children of his Goddess, for she had infused each of them with her essence. That one had been brought to this realm, just as the world seemed to be entering an era of such uncertainty and darkness, could only mean that Lexicos had plans for her...

Topaz's meditation on just what those plans might be were interrupted by the sound of a heavy wooden door squealing on its hinges behind him, prompting the man to sigh faintly and open his eyes. The vista that greeted him was just as breathtaking as ever, with clouds giving way to occasional patches of green, tens of thousands of feet below. Turning to face the doorway, he spotted a monk attired in one of the crimson prayer robes, decorated by silver 'Cog-Teeth' facings as opposed to Topaz's gold.

This man, a boy really, was one of the few that'd chosen to remain with the monastery, studying to become a dedicated 'Seeker'. His beard was not nearly as long or as full as that of the Magus, an indication of just how young he truly was...

"Magus, please forgive the interruption..." The monk apologized with a bow of his head. "The Oracle has requested your presence." Topaz merely nodded in acknowledgment of message, pausing briefly to adjust the chain of a large monolith pendant that dangled from his neck. It was of a far newer vintage than that which he'd worn previously, decorated more abundantly with expertly cut rubies and, fittingly, topaz.

The Magus followed the aspirant seeker in through the dark stone archway, into the dim candlelit interior of his quarters. They were only slightly larger than those of the other monks, allowing for the presence of a desk and other administrative necessities. It was of little use to him at present. The monk excused himself to return to midday prayers while Topaz navigated the millennia old stone hallways, descending a spiraling staircase into the lower depths of the monastery. Illuminated by hundreds of votive candles, the entire complex smelled of frankincense and sage, and vibrated with the rhythmic chanting of those prayer or meditation... Though as most came to learn, these practices were generally one in the same.

The droning litanies resonated throughout the place, even in the isolated 'Chamber of Conferring', which could be found in the darker depths of the monestary's most ancient sections. It was a small room, no larger than a broom closet, and almost wholly average in appearance. The presence of an ancient stone platform at its center was its only outlandish quality. While at first plain in its appearance, a closer inspection of the solid piece of obsidian revealed countless geometric runes of indescribable age, highly angular, with an abundance of octagons, hexagons, and all manner of other polygons. At the platform's center was a large polished half sphere of green quartz, from which all the runes originated.

This platform was a priceless relic, one of only thirteen known to exist, left behind by the Lexicos when she and her first followers departed for the Western Unknown. The reverence he held for it, knowing that Lexicos, his Goddess, had physically scribed the runes into that ancient slab was indescribable. Pausing for a moment to bow his head, Topaz stepped onto the pedestal. In the blink of an eye, the Magus found himself instantly transported to a seat at a massive round table at the center of a large underground chamber of stone.

Topaz knew that his body remained in his monastery, while his consciousness had been transported to an entirely new place. He need only leave his seat to be returned to mortal form... Typically he would've been joined by eleven other Magi, all of whom would've be seated around the table, but today they were notably absent. The table's center was cut out, allowing for the placement of a thirty foot tall monolith, before which sat a massive elevated throne.

Upon that seat was the heavenly form of an absolutely ancient dragoness, adorned in hooded robes of magenta, decorated by piping of gold, silver, and bronze. An impressive display of coiling black fluted horns emerged from special slots sewn into the hood, equal in their attractiveness and beauty to the more than ample bust she sported. Her hands were marked by shimmering metallic scales whose colors were as varied as they were illustrious. The only sign of her age was her considerable size, easily twenty feet tall, and well proportioned to accentuate her divine womanly form. No dragoness could reach such a state of such perfection without being tens of thousands of years old...

Topaz knew enough to recognize her immediately as the Oracle, the highest ranking member of the Orthodoxy below the Goddess herself, selected by Lexicos herself to serve as the intermediary between realm of the Gods and the mortal realm.

The Oracle's face was concealed by a featureless mask of alabaster, whose eyes glowed in striking prismatic flourishes of random colors. Though none had gazed upon the woman's unadorned face in some time, her sheer physical strength and build, coupled with her overwhelming arcane power, not to mention the illustrious set of horns, rendered her easily one of the most beautifully constructed examples of a fully mature dragoness... At least, in the eyes of her fellow dragons. Having journeyed to live among the Equestrians for as long as he had, Topaz knew well that such thinking was hardly universal... That was the Equestrians' loss.

"Lexicos' light be with you, Brother Topaz." The Oracle spoke in a silky twin-toned voice, prompting the Magus to bow his head forward, responding in the traditional 'And also with you'. "I have requested your presence for a matter of great importance, one I wished to discuss with you privately..." She declared sagely, folding her hands into her lap. "I need not remind that the forces of darkness are stirring. With world events developing as they are, it seems the Millennium of Harmony has truly reached its end, as foretold by the Ancient scrolls. The Age of Uncertainty is surely at hand."

While all orders in the Orthodoxy prayed to Lexicos for guidance, few had as much access to her chosen emissary as the Monastic Council, especially the Wiedza monastery. Together they comprised the 'Fraternal Order of Scroll Keepers'... At the ending of the Civilization of the Ancients, Lexicos had selected twelve of her most loyal disciples to undertake a holy mission. These disciples were each given copies of her scrolls and writings, and ordered scatter as far from one another as was possible... The same scrolls that Topaz had been meditating upon just a few minutes earlier.

Most were notes on technologies too advanced for even the minds of modern scholars to comprehend, to be held in reserve until such time as Lexicos or a being known as the 'Seraphim' returned to claim them. The Seraphim was said to be an agent of the Goddess, who would have the knowledge and understanding to take those notes and make them reality... Most on the Monastic Council believed the technologies to be weapons of great power, intended to preserve the world against the forces of darkness.

This notion had arisen primarily because the remainder of the Lexicos Scrolls made several references to events that, at the time of their writing, hadn't happened yet. In a lot of cases, these predictions proved to be frighteningly accurate... At the same time, they were never as exact as had been laid out on the parchment either. The Oracle believed that the Age of Uncertainty had indeed come to pass, so named because the scrolls of the 'Millennium of Harmony' were the last in the Council's ancient library to contain detailed prophecies...

The return of Nightmare Moon, of Discord, the emergence of the Changelings, and many other potentially apocalyptic events, all were foretold in the scrolls. Many within the Order feared that these would mark what they'd termed the 'End Times', and that only Lexicos or the Seraphim could do anything to halt the inevitable destruction of mankind.

Topaz was inclined to believe the fear over the 'End Times' were nothing more than the product of ignorant paranoia, though he'd never voiced as much. Many of the Magi that comprised the council had held their seats for nearly a thousand years, and typically that gave their opinions more weight... Topaz merely felt it made them complacent, and honestly he feared the Scroll Keepers had become overly reliant on the predictions of the scrolls. Without at least some vague notion of what was to come, the future was a very unsettling, very frightening prospect, and it was only natural for some to fear the worst.

"This is the word of Lexicos? The Age of Uncertainty is truly upon us?" Topaz asked, prompting the Oracle to nod. "What do you require of me, Oracle?"

"I require nothing from you, Brother Topaz. You have already done enough..." The woman explained gently, leaning back upon her throne. "The purpose of my calling you here is in regards to your recent journey, the discovery you made in your travels." On instinct the man brought a hand to his pendant, running his fingers over the recently crafted symbol of his faith.

A bolt realization ran through him as he recalled just where his old pendant, a relic said to have been passed through his Order from the era of the Ancients, now found itself. Giving it to an 'outsider', or at the very least a member of the Orthodoxy not affiliated with the Scroll Keepers, had met with some protestation on the part of the Monastic Council. Still, in the moment he'd felt it the just and right course of action.

"You mean Sister Orzel." Topaz calmly confirmed, earning another nod from the Oracle.

"Long has Lexicos awaited the return of one of children to the known world, there is no doubt that the Crown-Princess is a true-blooded Nōsphērghol." She declared, maintaining a level of calm that inspired a greater level of calm in Topaz. "Our Lady has indicated to me that Sister Orzel is only the first of many." The Oracle continued evenly. "Perhaps our savior may be found elsewhere in time, we do not know for certain. At present, that 'Equestrian Princess' could prove the key to the Seraphim Prophecy..."

There'd never truly been a discussion about what made a Seraphim a Seraphim, although there were some facets on which the council agreed. A true Nōsphērghol, one whose blood was blessed with the essence of Lexicos, and who had the ability not only to read the Ancient scrolls, but also comprehend them. Topaz soon found his mind wandering to the very idea of prophecies themselves.

While there were many that believed the prophecies penned by Lexicos to be irrefutable, Topaz was of the persuasion that they were merely very accurate 'predictions', perhaps the result of some long forgotten technology that could be used to travel forward and backward through time at will. Of course, that would raise a great deal of philosophical conundrums about the nature of predestination and 'free will', were the prophecies to take place exactly as written.

The return of Nightmare Moon was said to be one of the marks of the conclusion of the 'Millennium of Harmony'... But the prophecy, as written, made explicit mention of it being exactly one-thousand years after her banishment, which would've placed Nightmare Moon's return in the year two-thousand. In reality, she'd returned in nineteen-thirty-four, seventy-six years too early.

Many of the prophecies upon which Topaz pondered were written in the ancient text of the Nōsphērghol, with the Seraphim Prophecy being written entirely in that script. The reason being that the Nōsphērghol were given a new purpose as the conclusion of the war with the forces of darkness. That purpose was simple, to serve as the successors to the Ancient's dying civilization. It was a purpose cut short by the various wars that'd sought to eliminate the Nōsphērghol, so that the group that would go on to form the 'Great Clans' could claim a legacy which was never theirs to possess.

As Topaz previously thought, there were plenty of Magi that thought the meaning of the Seraphim Prophecy to be literal. Were that the case, it would mean Orzel, a true-blooded Nōsphērghol, was brought to Equus by Lexicos so that she might use the sacred scrolls to create powerful weapons... Weapons to supplement her sword and shield, fighting against evil as a quasi-angelic avatar of Lexicos' avenging might, leading an army of loyal followers on a sacred crusade to purge the world of darkness...

The more Topaz pondered the state of affairs in the Dragonlands of late, the more he doubted that the prophecy was entirely accurate, let alone literal. Perhaps it was the destiny of Orzel to destroy the forces of evil through a means that was less directly confrontational than leading a crusade... Weapons and other tools of war, which were obviously of her design, had attained an infamous reputation for their lethality against even the most sturdy of dragon warriors. Had Lexicos not also provided the Nōsphērghol with arms of similar power, to do battle with the forces of darkness? Then again, maybe, just maybe, the prophecy was a mixture of both theories...

"Brother Topaz, it seems I've have lost you to the lure of Lexicos." The Oracle's voice shook Topaz out of his mental tangent and back to the meeting at hand. The 'Lure of Lexicos' was a phrase common among Seekers and Magi, an endearing synonym for 'daydreaming'. Daydreaming was considered to be one of Lexicos' blessings to the curious minds of the world, a state of semi-meditation where she might think of a mind as worthy, and reach out to impart some of her wisdom onto the daydreamer. In this case, Topaz believed he had indeed been blessed with Lexicos' wisdom. "Has she blessed you with deeper insights?"

"I wonder if we may be mistaken in our assumption that Sister Orzel, or any other single person, will be the solution to every problem we may face in the Age of Uncertainty." Topaz explained simply, lacing his fingers together on the table. "Even if she is, her contribution may not be nearly as dramatic as some of my esteemed colleagues would believe." The man looked around the room at the empty chairs, exhaling a small sigh. "Our Lady is the divine patron of scholars and scribes throughout the mortal realm. Is it not more reasonable to believe that her 'Seraphim' would fall more in line with such disciplines as research and technological discovery?"

While the Oracle was a direct conduit to Lexicos, the Goddess wasn't always inclined to give a definitive answer one way or another. That being said, the woman seemed most inclined towards Topaz's theory, and that in turn might sway the opinions of several Magi when next the council met in full. While most of the Scroll Keepers had a rudimentary grasp of written Nōsphērghol, it was believed that the words required a native speaker's eyes to truly make sense. That made the girl a priceless resource, regardless of whether she was the Seraphim or not.

Topaz recalled his interactions with the girl rather fondly... She was a young woman now, but the Magus suspected certain thoughts that troubled her had only increased. Never before had he encountered a dragon whose emotions were so potent, so raw, that the feelings almost radiated out of them. Even his historically severe temperament prior to his joining the Orthodoxy didn't quite compare... It was only natural, the Nōsphērghol were imbued with the essence of Lexicos, and the emotions of a Goddess had to be far more powerful than those of an average dragon.

That was the price of incredible power... Topaz knew with fair certainty that had she not sought the guidance of Lexicos when she did, those emotions would very likely have consumed her. In a way, as much as the council believed it needed the Seraphim, Topaz was hoping it turned out to be someone else besides Sister Orzel. The man could only imagine the amount of pressure that bore down upon her as a scientist, an inventor, an enchantress, and as a prospective sovereign.

That she could take on all these tasks at once was a testament to her force of will and the gifts of Lexicos bestowed upon her, but... Even the most stalwart shield could break, even the most masterfully crafted sword could fracture, and even the strongest wills could succumb to despair and hopelessness. Being called upon by the Orthodoxy to be their 'Seraphim', to be the 'chosen one', the savior of everything, might be enough to finally send her over the edge into... Well, Topaz wasn't really sure what would happen.

Most dragons that were pushed beyond their breaking point were known as 'Rogues'... They would undergo a particularly nasty and near permanent Elemental Transformation. They acted on the more basic desires of dragons the world over, abandoning draconic society and seeking a life of nigh-eternal solitude in caves, mountains, or other alcoves secluded far from civilization. Odds were no one would see or hear from them for a very long time, as had nearly been the case when Topaz himself had a similar reaction to the death of his mate... He hadn't lost complete control of his faculties, but he had come dangerously close.

It was for this reason that the Great Clans encouraged all dragons, affiliated or not, to pillage and raid as they saw fit... It was a release valve, a means of maintaining order and societal cohesion in a civilization comprised of persons whose basic instinct was to think of themselves first and foremost. Reclusive dragons never paid tithes to the Great Clans, and they seldom answered the call of the Dragon Lord. When they did, they brought ideas and beliefs that most would deem corrosive with them...

Thus it was in the best interest of everyone involved that dragons keep their stress levels as low as dragonly possible. Topaz could only imagine the destruction that might be wrought if Sister Orzel ever found herself in such a position where it was impossible to come back from the edge. The Magus shook himself back into the present, having chased the Lure of Lexicos once more, and for far too long. Nonetheless, it seemed that his evident deep thought had once again drawn the attention of the Oracle.

"You have chased the lure again, have you not?" She asked curiously, Topaz nodded wordlessly. "Would you allow me to observe your thoughts, Brother Topaz?" Once again he nodded, having the Oracle actually reach out and view one's mind was considered a great honor. The dragoness reached out her hand, speaking in a tongue he'd never heard before. Streamers of prismatic rainbow energy flowed from her fingers, seamlessly merging with his head for a period of roughly seven seconds.

Once again Topaz found himself suddenly transported elsewhere, no longer seated within the council chamber, but instead standing upon an empty white plane. It stretched infinitely in all directions, and the only other sign of motion were occasional flickering embers of pure white energy. The Oracle stood across from him, with another humanoid form at her side, a form whom Topaz was vaguely familiar with. A levitating black hooded woman, whose face was hidden by shadows, displaying only glowing golden eyes. He was only familiar with her because of conversations he'd held with Sister Orzel...

"Forgive me, Brother Topaz. After viewing your concerns, I thought it prudent to bring you here. This is the true reason I summoned you today..." The Oracle explained, gesturing with one of her massive hands to the comparatively diminutive woman. "Your consciousness is presently in one of the higher planes of Limbo, I am facilitating your ability to converse with this... Spirit." The cloaked woman floated forward, eying Topaz with obvious suspicion. "She identifies herself only as 'Midnight'..."

"For what reason have you summoned me here?" Topaz asked calmly of the stranger, clasping his hands together in front of him and nodding towards the spectral woman.

"It is necessary for both of you to hear me, and hear me well..." Midnight responded firmly, pointing at Topaz, then the Oracle. "Your compatriot has shown me that you feel as I do, so I have come to speak with you in person." The woman tucked both of her hands into the opposing sleeves of her robe, her glowing spectral eyes narrowing even further. "Orzel has embraced this faith at your urging, Topaz of Firebrand. In it she has found a respite from the stresses of the world, under which she already labors with great difficulty. I have come to warn you against adding to her burden."

"Because you fear she won't be able to handle it?" Topaz asked.

"Because I fear she will " Midnight snapped tersely, levitating away from the Oracle and Topaz to float some twenty feet away, though considering this was all taking place in another plane of existence, that distance was relative. "I have observed that nearly everyone on this planet wants something from her. The militarists demand she build weapons! Her adoptive family wants her to take the throne, a position she may have to fill alone, and now, on top of everything else, you!" The woman jabbed a finger at the both of them. "You, the emissaries of her Goddess, a Goddess that she loves, are plotting to use her faith to suit your own ends as well!" The spirit seemed to grow in size proportionate to her booming voice, bringing her to nearly the same height as the Oracle herself.

"I care not for your prophecies, I care not for your faith as she does! My only concern is her well being!" Midnight erupted, shaking the very plane with her roar. Topaz realized in an instant that this was no mere spirit, no simple spectre or ghost. There was chaotic energy radiating from it, an energy not unlike that which permeated around the Oracle, but far more potent, far more... Ancient. "Know that should you attempt to sway her to join your cause, should you seek to manipulate her as some pawn in your schemes, I shall rain upon you with all my fury! If that is not succinct enough for you, then I will put it more bluntly! Leave! Her! Alone!"

'Midnight', or whomever the spirit actually was, punctuated her demands by vanishing into a large burst of inky black vapor. Topaz blinked several times, then looked to the Oracle for guidance. He didn't know what manner of being he'd just seen, but he could be certain it was far more than it initially presented itself as. The Oracle's posture remained relaxed, and that was the only sign the Magus was given to indicate there was no reason for him to be alarmed.

"Never fear, Brother Topaz..." The Oracle declared thoughtfully, turning her attention back to him. "While Sister Orzel may yet prove an important figure, I am inclined to believe that she is not the Seraphim." She clasped her hands behind her back. "That being said... Impromptu as this meeting has been, I have found it to be remarkably... Illuminating. While Sister Orzel may not be the Seraphim, I believe she may still yet hold the key to finding the one who is."

Author's Note

Well, here it is! The end of the first story in my new series, the name of which I have yet to decide upon! I really hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I've already started work on the next book in the series, and hopefully that'll be finished much more quickly than this one. It should be, as I doubt I'll need to rewrite it as many times.