The Pawn Who Would Be Queen

by The Boss

Rating: mature
Tags: Changelings, Sex, Suicide / Self Harm, Profanity, Violence, Princess Celestia, Death, Alternate Universe, Human, Narcotics, Sad, Princess Luna, Drama, Gore, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Other
Length: 505826

One impulsive decision can change the course of anyone's destiny. Princess Luna adopts a child from another world. Now they must learn the rigors of royal life, all while adapting to a world with more technology and freedom than they've ever known.

A peaceful night is shattered by a sudden clap of thunder, and in the wake of a violent arrival, Princess Luna finds herself taking on the unexpected responsibility of motherhood. The orphaned girl hails from a world similar to, yet very different from, Equus as Luna knows it. It is a world where magic is nearly non-existent, home to an autocratic Empire, now embroiled in a rapidly onset struggle for survival against an unspeakable swarm of monsters. It is a place where the basic freedoms and technologies Equestria takes for granted have been suppressed and stagnated, where the sum of a person's worth is defined solely by their utility to the state.

In her Old World, Orzel was little more than a nearly blind child of the Warrior Caste, a pawn in the uncaring machinations of her Empire, destined for little more than obscurity. Even as she grieves the loss of all she has ever known, Orzel must take on the awesome responsibility of becoming her adoptive Mother's heir. It is a title that carries with it innumerable questions and burdens, which challenge all she's ever learned about freedom, family, duty, and faith... Of all the questions she will face, there is one that stands paramount.

Can one grieving teen bear the weight that comes with wearing a crown and, whilst bearing that weight, help steer the destiny of her new motherland?

Author's Note: Hey! Been a while since I posted something, and I apologize for that. This is Book 1 in a new series, though I'm not personally sure how many books there will be overall. Unlike previous series, this is one where I intend to publish all the chapters of a story at once, rather than as the chapters are completed. As such, there may be some serious time between stories. Not to worry, I've got plenty of ideas for a sort of 'side-story', which I intend to update far more frequently.

Despite how long it's taken me to actually put this up, I had a lot of fun writing this story. I have done my best to refine it to a higher standard than my previous works, so I am very hopeful that you'll enjoy it. To give some idea of the amount of effort I've taken to ensure its quality, I've re-written this story in particular at least three times, and have discarded nearly as many words as I've published. Even so, I realize it may be far from perfect.

As always, your respectful comments and concerns are welcome, as that's the only way I can hope to improve in the future.

Content/Tag Info

Human/Alternate Universe: The characters are humanized, though spell-casters (unicorns) don't have horns, pegasi still have wings and are still capable of flight. Equestria in this story is in an era of technology on par with the Inter-Bellum Period (1919-1939), though as with the show's murky level of technological advancement, there are definitely some anachronisms. Even so, I've tried to be as accurate as possible.

Sex: Despite the 'Sex' tag and mature rating, there is no actual sex described within. It is implied with several adult characters having done so in the past, and there is some brief nudity, but that's generally the extent. The primary reason I felt it better to err on the side of caution and include this brief aside is the discussion of a character's sexuality in a psychological/therapy setting, particularly as to how it pertains to their religious/sociological upbringing. As this character is not 18, they do NOT engage in/discuss in detail ANY implicit or explicit acts WHATSOEVER.

Death/Gore/Violence: It doesn't occur very often, but there are some scenes of violence/killing or even bodily mutation that warrant the inclusion of these tags.

Profanity: There are a few instances, both in English and a few other languages, nothing I would considered excessive however.

Suicide/Self Harm: Once again, no such activity actually takes place, but the possibility of it happening is discussed. I figured it best to err on the side of caution and include this tag as well.

Narcotics: A lot of people smoke a lot of cigarettes and cigars. There are also scattered instances of alcohol consumption, and a few instances of taking Magic Mushrooms, though... They're literally magic mushrooms, as in they have magical properties, but still... Anyway, that's about it.

Published 2022-01-11 04:20:00 UTC
Last updated 2022-01-11 04:20:00 UTC

Chapter 2

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter 3

Sunlight poured through the windows, and while that usually would've brought a sense of happiness to Luna's day, it was not so on this occasion. Now, the joyful sun only served to highlight a far less pleasant aspect. The sun kept shining, the world kept moving, not once pausing to acknowledge the pain present in the many lives around the planet. The light of day could at times produce an unfeeling, unsympathetic realm, often home to more cruelty than there was compassion... Now, the Princess would need to raise a child in that very same realm, and the enormity of her choice that fateful night weighed upon her shoulders with all the monolithic momentousness of the moon itself.

At one time long ago Luna was considering becoming a parent, but nothing ever came of it. Primarily because she was unsure such a thing was even possible for a nigh-immortal being of her sort, among other more painful and personal reasons. The thought of bringing someone into the world, to raise them and nurture them into adulthood, only to watch them grow old and fade while she remained forever young was... Unthinkable. So why then did she take it on now? Luna couldn't quite say, except perhaps for the awakening of that repressed maternal instinct. The reasoning was really academic in retrospect, the fact remained that a frightened teenager, much as Luna once was those many centuries ago, would rely on her for care and guidance... A fact that made the world's failings seem all the more pronounced.

So Princess Luna quietly paced in the hallway outside of her sister's room, her hand placed on her chin as she hummed, as was typical when the Regent of the Night became ingrained in deep thought. Nearly three weeks had passed since she'd first had a chance to communicate with Orzel through Twilight Sparkle, and in that time the girl receded more and more into a reclusive nigh-uncommunicative state of catatonia. She seldom ate or drank, nor did she answer the door of her own accord. Typically the Castle staff would leave a tray on her desk and return in a few hours... More often than not that tray would be recovered untouched. Some days the tray would find its way to the center of the desk, though in these cases Orzel ate little more than a few bites.

The only constant appetite Orzel so far displayed was her voracious desire for books. In most instances she would read them faster than they could be translated to Kwarczkie. While this was likely in part thanks to her newly clarified vision, it didn't explain the girl's ability to not only take in such vast quantities of information, but also apparently understand that same information. This was evidenced by the various notebooks filled with meticulously cataloged findings, written of course in the girl's archaic mother tongue. Needless to say, it raised some questions.

The reading obsession usually wouldn't have been of much concern to Luna, if anything at first it had seemed a healthy way for the teen to put her mind at ease. Yet more and more the subjects Orzel requested, typically by way of written note, strayed from what Luna would expect of a girl her age, at least a typical Equestrian teenager. She'd become particularly enamored with engineering, chemistry, and alchemy. Her main focus, the one on which she read most frequently, appeared to be the field of enchanting. From what Luna gathered in her few chances to observe, much of the technology taken for granted by Equestria simply didn't exist in Orzel's homeland of the 'Szafirian Empire'.

There were no factories, no automobiles, and certainly nothing akin to 'Modern Medicine'. Honestly, Luna wasn't surprised to learn that many Imperial 'Doctors' still made use of leeches, or prescribed 'medicines' that in Equestria would be termed as highly addictive narcotics at best and literal poison at worst. They did possess firearms, indeed the Military was the only technological field where Equestria and the Empire seemed close... Even then, the Empire had only just started to transition to 'cap-lock' muskets.

On the ever increasing occasions where books weren't fully available, Orzel would instead work on a model of ESS Magnus, one of the few remaining fully rigged ships in the Equestrian Navy, though technically the only one still in commission. The others would soon go to from the mothball fleet to the breakers, and with them would go the last wooden hulled warships ever built by Equestria.

Luna briefly wondered just what about the model of the obsolete frigate so passionately consumed the girl's fascination, what could drive her to take such care of an amalgamation while neglecting her own personal well being? Whatever the cause, Orzel's attention to detail was as meticulous and precise as a watchmaker, with an even smaller margin for error. From keel to crow's nest, there wasn't a single rigging line out of place, nor trace of sprew, nor errant drop of adhesive. The Princess doubted if even the real ESS Magnus was constructed with such minute care. If only the girl would take as much care in herself as she did with her model, then Luna might not be so consumed with fear the girl would need to be hospitalized. To say she'd been frail upon her arrival would be an understatement. While by no means starving, the girl's diet was undoubtedly poor.

When Luna wasn't worrying over if Orzel was eating enough, she was reading and familiarizing herself with the Kwarczkie lexicon provided by a rather shaken Twilight Sparkle. Given all that had transpired following that first nerve racking day, the young mage was handling herself with dignity and restraint. The assistance of Celestia's prized pupil was proving instrumental, and with it Luna was able to more or less master the long dead draconic dialect with relative ease. While she could now speak directly to Orzel, that development mattered little, as the obstacle presented by the girl's unwillingness to talk was not so easily dealt with. The idea of just doing nothing while Orzel secluded herself from the rest of the world tore relentlessly at Luna's heart, but she had no idea how to approach the problem. This was why Luna now quietly marched the floor outside of Celestia's bedroom, thinking pensively on just what to say...

The door opened abruptly, snapping Luna from her silent pacing in order to face a visibly concerned Celestia. There she stood in the doorway, staring at Luna with that worried glint, a feature almost distinctly unique to the elder sister. The woman crossed her arms, wings fluttering with uncertainty in the soft warm breeze blowing through the room. It came by way of the open door at the other side of the chamber, leading out onto a balcony upon which many a serious discussion had been held. Luna lowered her hand from her chin, instead clasping her hands behind her back as she faced her sister directly. She couldn't hope to hide her worry, especially under the discerning gaze of Celestia.

"I've been listening to you pace back and forth for half an hour. You're going to wear a rut in the floor at this rate, Luna..." Celestia said gently before gesturing with her head into the room. "I have some time before I'm needed elsewhere, come in, let's talk..." Luna sighed, but wordlessly agreed and walked through the doorway, closing the door behind her. The faint hint of vanilla was one that helped to sooth Luna's mind, the aroma doubtless originating from a series of candles that burned dimly in the darker portions of the room.

Celestia's bed chamber was decorated as one would expect of a Solar Princess. Bright gold painted walls, adorned with numerous cheerful paintings of happy people and brilliant vistas, images that usually had a strange capacity for setting one's mind at ease. This time, however, that distinct calming effect was frustratingly absent. At the center of the chamber resided an immense bed, bearing an eight pointed sun at the center of its bedspread. Opposite the bed sat a cluster of sofas around a fireplace, separated by a stout oak coffee table. A large mahogany desk took up the space nearest the balcony window, as well a Princess deserved, mahogany being the most superior of all woods. The many papers and tiny decorations resting thereupon, the latter having been provided by Celestia's own fascination for indistinct curios, were illuminated by the sunlight that filtered its way through the thin curtain fabric.

Beside the bed rested a golden birdcage with its door open... With Celestia's phoenix familiar Philomena being notably missing. Crossing towards the open balcony door, Luna did her best not to speculate on where the little monster could be hiding. It wasn't that she hated the bird, she hated the fire that generally accompanied its presence... Specifically as it pertained to her carefully hand drawn plans for new constellations. Luna shook her head as they passed the desk, there were currently larger problems to be concerned with than the location of her sister's winged fire hazard. Exiting onto the balcony, Celestia leaned against the wrought iron railing, her back to the city, while Luna stopped just a few feet from the door... Hesitant to go any further.

"I trust your concern's are with Orzel?" Celestia probed, Luna nodded silently before taking a few tentative steps towards the edge of the balcony, looking out over the city as the morning sun continued its steady march across the sky. It wasn't that she was afraid of heights, or even falling from said heights, more it was a reluctance to place herself outside... Where the Public might be watching. Heavens forbid a passing paparazzo pegasus happened to catch sight of her at just the wrong moment. "I've heard from the cleaning staff in that wing that she refuses to leave her room, the kitchen staff also mention she's hardly touching her food..."

"That is correct, Sister..." Luna responded, sighing through her nose as she watched the city streets below. How simple and distant the world seemed from that great height, so far removed from the hustle and bustle of the day to day. "She has been reading almost as prodigiously as young Twilight Sparkle, if not equally so... She refuses to speak, refuses to eat or drink, I sense she is not sleeping either." Her sister hummed at that, turning to look at the city for herself. "It has been... Difficult to watch." Luna admitted, lacing her fingers together and lowering her eyes. "I do not know what to do, Celestia. She is in pain, and I am powerless to help her."

"I know the feeling..." Celestia nodded, placing her hand on her sister's shoulder. "You were near catatonic when we lost Mom and Dad." Luna looked to the side, meeting Celestia's eyes for a few moments before they returned to their downcast direction. As she'd thought on so often before, the loss of their parents struck Luna particularly hard. At the time being cut off and alone, in some small part Luna resented Celestia for having 'more time' with them. She didn't hold such resentments any longer, but they'd certainly proved to be motivators in certain 'mistakes' Luna made so very long ago. "Everyone processes grief differently, Luna, but I think you're perfectly justified to be concerned about how Orzel is acting. Perhaps we should find her a counselor?"

"How many qualified counselors do you know of that are also fluent in dead Draconic dialects?" Luna asked doubtfully, Celestia merely gave her sister's shoulder a squeeze, something that comforted the Princess. While both women had lived for numerous centuries, there was still a part of herself that Luna saw as the same frightened and shy girl so desperately in need of her sister's help, and now finally she was receiving that help. It felt... Nice.

"I am not saying such a thing is not an option, but I fear she may need more immediate intervention." Continued Luna, taking a deep breath. Her becoming Nightmare Moon was only the second biggest mistake she'd ever made, the first having happened far earlier than that, one that would've had far more permanent effects... Luna did her best not to dwell on that portion of her life, when she'd been in an abyss of emotional turmoil from which she'd seen no possible escape, save one. While she no longer suffered that deeply, recent events had nonetheless yanked those memories back into the spotlight. "You recall, not long after the accident, I nearly did something foolish. Had you not interceded, I..."

"You were in a dark place, Luna, and I wasn't much better off. I was barely nineteen, had to run a country with no idea what I was doing, and look after you, also with no idea what I was doing? It's... Well... " Celestia's features softened, and Luna was surprised to feel her sister suddenly wrap her in a hug. It was warm and comforting, as hugs are want to be, but in that moment it carried far more meaning. "We made it through, together, and together we'll find a way to help Orzel before it ever gets that bad." Luna nodded, accepting the hug silently. "I'll enlist Twilight Sparkle's help, perhaps she will be able to create a translation spell. In the meantime, I believe it would be wise to set aside at least an hour or two a day to spend with Orzel... Help her build a routine, show her that you're here for her, that she's safe here, and that you're not going anywhere." Celestia broke off the hug, going back to lean against the railing. "I would do so as well, but I am not as knowledgeable in Draconic dialects..."

"I shall endeavor to make time..." Agreed Luna, watching a pair of guards making their way along the perimeter wall below. From this high up they looked almost like ants, the only indication of their status being the glittering ceremonial armor that reflected the morning light. Meanwhile the city continued to drone on in the background, entirely indifferent of whatever happened atop that lofty balcony. "I am also going to contact the Draconic Institute, they may have more information as to what the Kwarczkie were like. If Orzel is a Drake, that may present some challenges as she matures..."

"Allow me to worry about the future, Luna..." Celestia insisted, patting her sister on the back once again. "For now, focus on the present, like getting her to eat." Luna nodded silently, keeping her eyes on the marching guards. They were a symbol of royalty to many people, staunch and brave, loyal to Country and Crown...

That symbolism presented yet another challenge in Orzel's already complicated future, one that couldn't be ignored. Luna had given little thought to how her status as a Princess would affect Orzel, there simply hadn't been enough time to make such choices, as the adoption was a spur of the moment affair. It wasn't right, in Luna's view, to expect so much of someone Orzel's age so suddenly. She'd certainly never been prepared for a 'royal' life prior to her arrival, but as Orzel was likely all too aware, life wasn't known for being fair. In time, hopefully time enough to sort through the trauma and grief, Orzel would likely be forced to take up royal duties. Luna doubted it would be a simple matter of bestowing a title and calling it a day...

The woman shook her head, taking a deep breath and trying to clear her thoughts. Typically she could keep her mind from spiraling so far ahead into the future, something that in the past had lead to numerous sleepless nights. Indeed, a familiar ache had started to make itself known in her lower back, joined by an unpleasant pressure on her shoulders. There was no physical malady at play, or course, it was all in her head. Yet even acknowledging that fact did little to lessen the radiating discomfort. As per usual, Celestia picked up on her sister's sudden lapse into silence with the deductive acuity of a bloodhound.

"Is there something else on your mind, Luna?" Celestia asked curiously, silence reigned as Luna briefly considered voicing her concerns. It probably would be a necessary discussion in the future, but Celestia's balcony was neither the time, nor the place. How could she even contemplate such a decision while the girl in question barely ate or slept, there was enough stress on the poor child already. So the woman shook her head, stepping back from the railing and rolling her shoulders in a futile attempt to alleviate the pressure on her lower back.

"Indeed there is." Luna stated simply, straightening the fabric of her gown. "However, while it is a matter I believe bears discussion, the timing is not appropriate." Celestia was visibly unsatisfied at the answer, but ultimately accepted it, much to Luna's relief. "For the moment, I believe it prudent to begin building that 'routine' you mentioned. If you will excuse me?" Celestia nodded, giving Luna one final hug, which Luna readily returned. It was one of the many simple joys of her return, speaking to her sister again, being part of a family. Hopefully, if things went well, she could return some semblance of that feeling to her ailing ward...

The steady mechanical 'tick-tock-tick-tock' of Orzel's clock was a bit louder now that it resided upon her desk. It was a strange little contraption that, according to the book's she'd read, operated through a series of gears and springs in order to keep time to a far more accurate approximation than a sun dial. Originally, the girl had taken the wooden device down from the shelf and set it on her desk with the intention of stopping its incessant noise. However, as she opened the back panel, she'd been fascinated to see just how intricate the cogs and gears within were. Each had been perfectly crafted to interface with its partner, all in service of keeping a consistent pace. Remove just one, no matter how seemingly insignificant, and the entire assembly would cease to function. Replace that part, make a few adjustments, and the clock would be keeping time just as before.

The Equestrians were some of the most technologically advanced people Orzel had ever seen, from their tailored spectacles to the elegantly complex clock that sat before her, she'd never seen such things in utopian abundance before. In the Empire, only those few people with political power or vast wealth could posses such things, if they even existed. There were no 'pocket watches', no 'anti-biotics', and certainly no 'mass production' to create such things in immense quantity. If the Empire had been so advanced, perhaps the Imperial Legion might have stood a better chance against the wretched beasts... Yet for as much as the Equestrian's used magic, they seemed almost equally as adept in the field of engineering.

That was fortunate, as for reasons unknown to her she'd been overcome by a sudden urge to throw herself into the scientific fields with reckless abandon, reading any book she could get her hands on. She couldn't explain it, but from somewhere deep inside their came an instinctual need to learn and expand her knowledge as much as conceivably possible. That in doing so she also took her mind away from the grief was just a bonus. Machines were far less mysterious than magic, and there was a whole host of authors and studies to make them even easier to understand. They were designed with a specific purpose in mind, they carried out that purpose, and when they broke down they were generally easy to repair. If only people could be so easily restored...

Orzel silently stared at the rotating gears and flexing springs, the room nearly silent save for that same annoying ticking sound. If her Mother had been more like the clock, if she'd been born with replaceable parts, maybe she could have been saved. It was a foolish notion, even the Equestrians couldn't miraculously replace body parts, and she doubted such a thing would ever be possible... The girl shook her head, fearing that if she remained on the subject any longer she'd lose what little progress she'd made.

Oddly, the field of technology had been helping her to understand the far less 'concrete' field of enchanting, which itself was the least mystical of all the Arcane schools. Like her urge to learn about machines, the field of Enchanting was bizarrely easy to comprehend, despite never having so much as seen a magic textbook before coming to Equestria... It felt as if portions of her mind, resting dormant for her entire life, were beginning to awaken. Other aspects of life, those that were based far more in the realm of the intangible, had by extension become far more difficult to comprehend... As if there were two sides of her brain, seemingly locked in a bitter struggle for dominance, and Orzel couldn't fathom which would ultimately prevail. She hoped, secretly, that the technical side came out on top... Technology was far easier to understand, after all...

For example, magic, as far as Orzel could figure, was much like the 'electricity' that powered Equestrian factories and street lamps. Runes replaced circuits, Arcanium dust and Alicornium powder replaced wiring, and magic itself replaced electrical current... What so confounded Orzel was why those few books she'd found on the subject had to muddy the core concepts with such flowery terms like 'spirit' and 'heart'. If those intangibles of enchanting were difficult to understand, then the nature of 'regular' magic was completely beyond her, with its constant referrals to 'making contact with your true self'... What in blazes did that even mean? Orzel had to wonder if certain titles were actually incorrectly placed in the 'Non-Fiction' section. Magic was an interesting enough topic already, there was no need for it to be couched in superfluous superstition and 'hocus pocus'.

Orzel quietly sighed, closing the clock's rear panel and setting it atop a growing pile of books that dominated much of her desk space. In addition to teaching her about machinery and mathematics, they had been gradually expanding her vocabulary. Any word she didn't understand was simply looked up in the 'Dictionary' she'd been provided fairly early on. With any luck, her vocabulary would become like the clock. Precise, proper, and wonderfully complex... Then, maybe, she'd write her findings on magic as clearly and succinctly as possible, and efficiently make clear that unnecessarily complex field of study. There was some silver lining to attempting to decipher just what in Vindicta's glorious name any of the authors were talking about, however. That came in the form of the time she spent trying to figure out what they actually meant, which allowed for Orzel's sadness and frustration to fade into the background.

Watching the second hand gradually work its way around the clock face, there were no books to consume Orzel's attention, no new words to delve into... She'd read every book within her room at least once, some more than three times. Prior to receiving her spectacles, reading had always been a chore, and much as Orzel enjoyed learning new things it seldom seemed worth it. Every line of text required a great deal of squinting and adjusting of the page, often times having to lean so close that her nose touched the paper. She could never hope to read at a decent pace, that was for certain. Now, with her trusty spectacles on her nose, that pace was increasing exponentially.

While at first an exciting opportunity, with plenty of books and all the time in the world to read them, it carried with it an unforeseen sort of curse. Orzel's mind was flooded with new knowledge and ideas, ideas that were starting to conflict with all she'd ever learned growing up. The teachings of the Empire and the Vindictan Church were being challenged in a manner that, like so many other things in Equestria, would warrant a 'friendly' visit from the Agents of the MIS. What was more, she was reading books faster than new ones could be provided, leading to numerous hours where she was left with little to do but stare at the clock. She'd dealt with that, at least somewhat, by the procurement of her beloved model ship.

The model in question sat atop another one of her books, and it too was just another bizarre product of Equestrian technology. Where Father's models were painstakingly crafted from wood, the one that sat before her now was comprised of something called 'plastic'. It required a foul smelling glue to put together, and yet despite its stench, the glue evidently worked extremely well. In fact it adhered with enough strength that Orzel had wound up with her fingers stuck together upon first trying to use it. She'd managed to deduce the means of unsticking herself with the aid of one of her chemistry books, as well as with a few chemicals she'd commandeered from the bathroom adjacent to her bedchamber. With new found respect for the impressive adhesive, Orzel was able to put together the bulk of the model in a rather short amount of time...

Now, all that remained was to paint it. As there was little else for her to do, Orzel opted to do precisely that, taking the model down from atop the book and placing it before her. While the box it had come with had instructions on what colors to paint the ship, Orzel had a far more distinct paint scheme in mind. She set a few pieces of blank paper down, then placed the model on top of those, before opening a wooden box that had been delivered with the model and glue... It rested on the floor, and housed within its darkly stained interior a bevy of different paints. Their labels were in Equestrian, though helpful translations were clearly taped on the lids for her sake, another opportunity to learn the odd overly gentle sounding language.

Orzel's mind began to wander in those brief moments of selecting the necessary paints and brushes from the case, gradually moving away from the machinations of clocks and adhesive strength. In those fleeting seconds Orzel stared silently at the ship, her eyes drawn to the impressive masts and rigging. After setting the paints on the desk, a sensation of sorrowful rage gradually filled her thoughts. Cracking timbers and snapping rope echoed in her ears, joined shortly thereafter by the phantom smell of charcoal. As seconds turned to minutes, the heart wrenching memories intertwined themselves with those of all the time's she'd spent helping her Father. The ship before her, tiny and frail, would be just as powerless against her fist as the Imperial Armada, including Father's beloved Piorun, had been in the face of the ravenous horde...

She desperately wanted to clench her fist and dash the little plastic hull against the books, to let fly all her fury and grief upon that which so easily could be destroyed. Who would care if she were to wreck that which she'd built, it had no crew, there would be no children left orphaned in the wake of Orzel's pulverizing anger... It was small, she was big, she could make it suffer as she suffered...!

What stayed her hand... Well, she supposed it was the clock. Unlike the clock that so captivated her, the model could not be easily repaired. Replaced, perhaps, but not repaired. In its tiny rigging and unpainted cross-trees, Orzel saw just how fragile it was... How precious those memories of her Father were to her, and how all would be forever tarnished should she let anger win the day. Even if there was no crew, it was still her ship, and she would regret destroying it almost as soon as the deed was done.

With eyes watering, the girl stood from her desk and walked closer to the window, leaning her forehead against the chilly glass. For all her desire to rage against the world, to deliver her blind retribution upon that which she'd created, she couldn't abide destruction for destruction's sake... That was what the monsters did, and she would never allow herself to be like them.

Nothing made sense anymore, the world Orzel had known growing up was simply gone. Her family home was thoroughly obliterated, Cesarksi's markets and ships burned to cinders, all while chaos had ruled the streets. In the end, nothing changed for the better. Part of the girl's mind wondered what point there was to going on any longer. What was to keep her from just hurling herself through the window and letting gravity take over? In the Empire she could not serve the State, and so she was nothing... No, less than nothing. Mother and Father cared for her, but they were gone now...

Who was left to care if she bid the cruelty of the mortal world goodbye?

Then, as if to answer this grim question, there came a knock on the door. Orzel didn't respond, hoping that whoever it was would just leave her alone. The latch clicked open, the hinges creaked, and Orzel felt compelled to turn and face the interloper.

Princess Luna stood past the threshold, closing the door behind her and quietly looking over the room. Nodding at Orzel, she wordlessly crossed the space and stopped beside a tray of food left on the floor beside the desk. With her palms glowing, Luna levitated the tray and snapped her fingers, making it vanish in a puff of blue smoke. Orzel gulped quietly, her eyes flitting to the floor, as she feared reprisal for the disorganized state she'd left the room in. Instead, however, Luna made her way to Orzel's bed and took a seat on the edge.

"Please, make yourself comfortable." Luna said gently in Szafirian, though her voice carried a strong Equestrian accent, as she gestured at Orzel's desk chair. Orzel hesitantly stepped away from the window, dragging the chair and sitting across from the Princess. The girl put her hands in her lap, looking at the floor with uncertainty. "I wish to spend more time with you, would that be acceptable?" Orzel silently nodded, still feeling uncertain of what to say when in the Princess's presence. "Excellent..." Luna's eyes moved over the desk, noting the model and books, as well as the clock. "I am pleased to see you are keeping yourself busy." Orzel once again didn't respond, how could she given all she'd just been thinking about? She couldn't burden the Princess with such things, they were not matters a Royal need concern themselves with. "Orzel, please speak to me, you need not fear reprisal..."

"You are Royalty..." Hesitantly responded Orzel, tapping her fingers together and averting her eyes. "In the Empire, I would not be allowed within a hundred feet of you, let alone to live here." Luna hummed quietly in thought, wings bristling in apparent annoyance at the news. Orzel took that to mean she'd said something wrong, and so her eyes fell ever lower, as did her confidence. Joining her diminishing reserves of hope was a growing sense of guilt over having to inconvenience someone like a Princess with her presence. "I am sorry, your Grace..."

"You need not constantly apologize, Orzel." Luna insisted, likely doing her best to be reassuring, though she didn't sound all that convincing. "I realize this is a trying time for you, but try to understand... Equestria does not hold to the same standards as your home. Here, all of our subjects are viewed with equal worth, regardless of their status." Orzel rubbed the back of her neck, still unable to meet Luna's eyes. Despite the girl's skepticism, the Princess's words did seem consistent with how Twilight Sparkle had acted in her presence. "I would like for you to not refer to me with titles. I am your caretaker, not your ruler, you need not be so formal."

"As you wish, your Grace-." Orzel cut herself off, quietly cursing under her breath while inwardly berating herself. She couldn't even get a simple response right. "I mean... I understand." Luna nodded, though it seemed she wasn't fully convinced, not that Orzel could see all that much with her eyes glued to her feet. "I am sorry, and I am sorry for saying sorry..." Luna restrained herself, though Orzel could tell her apology had not been what the Princess had wanted to hear. "It just... Feels like everything is my fault. Like I have done something wrong, merely by surviving. So I must apologize."

"I understand... Truly, I do." Luna responded softly, looking towards the window, an ember of regret flickering in her eyes. "Twilight explained to you that I lost my parents around your age, correct?" Orzel nodded quietly, chancing a glance upwards to see Luna's features had become less intense. "It was not in such a visceral fashion, but nonetheless..." The Princess leaned forward on the bed, lacing her fingers together. "I became lost, and for a myriad of reasons my Sister was unable to help me." The woman shook her head, her voice cracking slightly. "I realize I have said this before, but I wish it to be clear. You are not alone, Orzel, and none of this..." Luna reached out and gently lifted Orzel's chin, looking her in the eyes. "None of this was your fault."

"I am aware..." Orzel said quietly, lowering her eyes again. "I know, intellectually, that what you say is true... But..." She tapped the center of her chest, doing her best to maintain some semblance of calm. It was proving difficult, not only because of her earlier agitation, but also due to Luna's reminding her. Orzel closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as the continually hazy images of the fateful night danced in the shadows. Again tears rolled down her cheeks. "I do not believe it, not in my heart. All I feel is this... Pain. It... It hurts just to be alive..." She wiped her eyes. "You said it would fade, but... When?"

"I am afraid it will take a long time..." Luna said softly, Orzel heard her rise from the bed and quietly approach before kneeling in front of the girl and resting a hand on her shoulder. "There are professionals that can help... Doctors of the mind... I am searching for one. Until we find someone, I will be stopping by more regularly, to help you as best I can." Orzel nodded quietly, opening her eyes and looking at Luna. Unable to keep from sniffling, the girl hesitantly stepped forward and hugged Luna. She wasn't entirely sure why, perhaps she trusted the Princess, or perhaps she just needed some form of contact. Regardless of the reasons why, Luna returned the hug readily. "You are stronger than you give yourself credit for, there is nothing you cannot achieve if you set your mind to it."

"I hope so..." Orzel's voice was barely audible, Luna merely hummed in response, allowing the girl as much time as she needed. With the dulling of her memories, the pain was not nearly as raw as it had been upon her first arrival. She'd made many conclusions in those first few days, about how she would need to handle her life, how she would need to move on. She would need to rethink some of them, it seemed. Luna's reminder that she wasn't alone certainly helped, as much as it hurt. Whether the gains she'd made would last, however, was a question Orzel wasn't quite brave enough to face as of yet...

Chapter 4

A number of weeks followed Luna's first regular meeting Orzel, and while at first little of much importance discussed, it was obvious the girl welcomed the chance to speak, at least somewhat. From what Celestia was hearing from her sister, the topics of conversation in the beginning more often than not were very 'surface level'. Gradually these topics became more personal, and the teen was finally opening herself up to help. Despite her best efforts, Celestia up until that point was unable to clear enough time in her schedule to meet Orzel one on one. From what Luna explained, however, Orzel was remarkably understanding in that respect. The girl apparently was also fairly quick to pick up Equestrian, though she spoke with a considerably thick accent.

The girl's new found ability to speak Equestrian presented reason enough for Celestia to justify clearing a spot in her itinerary with the ever demanding Noble Party. Additionally, there were some pressing matters pertaining to Orzel's current status as a member of the Royal Family. While they wouldn't be the topic of her initial visit, it would nonetheless be helpful for Celestia to put a face to those issues other than Luna. Royal life was a tangled web of politics and intrigue, and having only Luna to serve as a guide would leave Orzel woefully under prepared. Luna still held minimal power among the Nobility, and this tended to skew her view considerably. Such matters aside, Celestia also just wanted a chance to become a part of Orzel's life, to give her all the love and support she could...

Orzel was for all intents and purposes remarkably busy for someone without any existing royal duties, especially now that she could read and to some extent speak Equestrian. Once again her horizons of knowledge expanded as more material became accessible to her, and with it her ravenous hunger for books also grew. For the moment, thankfully, the Castle Library was more than capable of meeting the vastly expanded demand. Books, however, were not the only thing to go missing from the library. A phonograph had also vanished seemingly without a trace, though initially Celestia doubted Orzel's petite borderline malnourished frame possessed the sheer physical strength to carry such a heavy piece of furniture. That doubt, however, became thoroughly refuted as she came within a few feet of Orzel's door.

Celestia stood before the wooden slab that guarded Orzel's room, gown straightened, wings furled. The air that filtered from beyond the solid oaken barrier was notably scented with dust and old paper, almost as strong and distinct a smell as that of the Castle library itself. Within she could hear the familiar tenderhearted tenor tones of Soppressata Alfredo, playing over what was undoubtedly the misappropriated phonograph from the Castle's Library.

The dust that typically followed aged paper danced through the air seemingly in time with the song's upbeat tempo, making for a beautiful display within the rays cast from the hallway windows. Somehow, without any help as far as Celestia knew, the diminutive girl managed to lug the hundred pound device from one side of the Castle to the other. How she'd managed the feat without alerting any of the Castle staff was still unclear. Perhaps she was just so short that no one really noticed her...?

Thinking more on Orzel's origins, however, it seemed obvious that as a Drake she was simply stronger than the average Equestrian teenager. Now that Orzel was in an environment with ample ambient magic, her body would rapidly catch up to where most Drakes were at this age. Celestia's research into how Drakes matured had yielded many illuminating and concerning issues that would undoubtedly become more manifest in the coming months and years. There wasn't any increased risk of fire, as Orzel's people notably lacked that otherwise universal draconic ability, but... That she had spent the majority of her formative years deprived of the necessary magic would likely have an overall bizarre delayed effect that couldn't quite be planned for.

The unannounced seizure of the phonograph, the unquenchable desire for books and model kits, all were merely the initial hallmark stages of the dreaded 'teenaged' phase of Draconic life. Hoard building was bound to be the least of their worries, now that Celestia thought on it. Drakes weren't known for their ability to control their tempers, after all. At least this particular teenager was developing a growing eclectic taste in music, if Celestia's ears didn't deceive her. Playing from the ill-gotten phonograph was none other than Soppressata Aflredo's performance of 'The Barber's Aria', one of his earlier recordings by Celestia's estimation. Undoubtedly the music selection would change as the girl came into her own, discovering the various genres present in Equestria.

Celestia up until that moment was still thinking on just how to address Orzel, as the two remained to be formally introduced following that unfortunate night in the Gardens. Her apparent taste in music was thankfully a point that Celestia and Luna both shared. Celestia was more partial to works such as 'The Barber of Ponyville', while Luna tended to enjoy the more dramatic titles, her favorite's being 'The Tragedy' and 'Daughter of Hoofan'. Perhaps, Celestia mused, their mutual taste in music could be a decent starting off point. Regardless of where she wanted to begin, however, she was doing little by simply standing outside the door besides stalling for time. Taking one final moment to compose herself, Celestia knocked on the door and listened carefully. After a few tense moments with no response, Celestia knocked with a bit more force. This time the music abruptly stopped, though regrettably right at the crescendo of the piece.

"Dour eez open?" A questioning mezzo-soprano voice responded in broken Equestrian. Celestia could understand her well enough, but the accent was nonetheless as incredibly thicker than she'd been warned to expect. Celestia gently turned the door knob and pushed inwards, it only swung halfway on its hinges before suddenly smacking against a considerably sized pile of books. Celestia shoved the door gently, moving aside the books and taking in for the first time the cluttered space that was her adopted neice's room. She couldn't help but gawk at what lay before her, for the books by the door didn't even come close to the largest pile in the room.

Strewn about the floor, haphazardly placed and yet remarkably well organized by genre, stacks and mounds of tomes jutted up to Celestia's waist. The bed was well ordered and made with such care that it could likely pass military inspection. Several stuffed animals were arranged near the pillows, a mixture of unicorns and plush bears, going from right to left by measure of their overall height. The bed itself was surrounded on nearly all sides by more book piles, all of which 'borrowed' from the Castle library. As expected, the missing phonograph sat beside the Orzel's desk, along with a whole album of 78 RPM records. So Orzel's 'hoarding' phase was indeed upon her... Thankfully she'd chosen items that were easy enough to replace. There likely would've been much more fuss raised on the part of the castle staff if she'd started hoarding gold and gems as so many other adolescent Drakes often did.

Orzel was seated at her desk, dressed in simple looking navy blue tunic and trousers, her almond colored hair pulled back behind her head in a lazily tied bun. She was currently focused on a model airship, though not by way of her tortoiseshell glasses. Instead, a pair of magnifying goggles jutted from her face, intently set upon the carefully constructed creation of plastic and model adhesive. Her cerulean eyes held only the faintest of glows, made all the more pronounced by the magnifying lenses. A paintbrush was poised delicately in her right hand, with which she was adding what looked to a few weathering effects to her latest project.

"Am not fee-nishing of last books, needing more time..." Orzel absentmindedly, stippling what looked like rust along a few lines in the airship's hull. "Just be of leaving new ones on bed-seed tab-eel, yis? Thank you." It took Celestia a few moments to discern what the girl was actually saying, at which point she entered and closed the door behind her. Still, the more she heard the easier it became to understand her. Odds were it'd grow more discernible the longer Celestia, or anyone, was exposed to it.

"Don't you have enough books as is?" Celestia asked with a small chuckle, Orzel froze in her seat and glanced over her shoulder at the bemused elder Princess, her surprise made remarkably apparent thanks to the goggles. This visit so far was a definite instance of Deja Vu for Celestia, as she'd seen bedrooms like this once or twice before. The first belonging to her Sister when the two Princesses were younger, the second belonging to Twilight Sparkle, though neither of those two kept their chambers quite as chaotically organized. Orzel removed the goggles and squinted intently at Celestia, then grabbed her thick rimmed tortoiseshell spectacles. The girl's intense scrutiny subsided when the prescribed lenses found themselves perched upon her nose. "I hope I'm not interrupting..."

"No... Yis... Maybe?" Orzel stumbled through the words, and considering how on the spot she must've felt it wasn't totally unexpected. Celestia's arrival wasn't announced ahead of time, as evidenced by the state of the room, so it wasn't like the girl could've practiced. Orzel glanced back at her model, a Griffon airship judging by the considerable superstructure and side mounted vertical propeller mounts. "Paint eez in need of drying, suppose eez good time?" Celestia stepped further into the room, clasping her hands behind her back and navigating around the stacks of books. The midday sun streamed in through the window, casting the room in an odd mix of brilliant yellow and cool blue shadows. "Chell-oh, Princess Kell... Chall... Chalyista..." The girl stopped, muttering something to herself in Kwarczkie, judging by the tone of voice she used it wasn't pleasant. Celestia tried to ignore that, as she doubted it was directed at her. "You prefer title or no? Meece Luna not like being called Princess... Or Meece... Say sound like meece, but meece and meece are two sep-har-aht words. One title, one tie-knee rau-dent."

Orzel trailed off, quietly looking at the floor, apparently she was once again very self conscious of her difficult to decipher Equestrian. Celestia once again struggled to determine what her niece was saying... Meece... Rau-dent... Rodent. Mice. She was mispronouncing 'Miss' and 'Mice'...

"Whatever is easiest for you." Celestia responded gently, approaching the desk and leafing through the record album Orzel 'borrowed' when she'd made off with the phonograph. Most of the records seemed to be the greatest hits of Soppressata Alfredo, though there were a few Griffon tenors and Draconic baritones mixed in for an overall well rounded collection. Selecting a piece by the late great Anima Gentile, his final and most soulful rendition of 'Let No One Sleep', the Princess carefully swapped the record already on the Phonograph and set the needle down. "I realize we haven't seen much of each other, I was hoping to remedy that."

Orzel stared at her blankly, squinting her eyes despite her glasses, obviously in deep thought. The Princess was unsure just what there was to think about, until she reminded herself of who she was speaking with. In Orzel's eyes, Celestia saw the sort of uncertainty that Luna was so adamant about warning her to expect ahead of the visit. The fearful lack of confidence, undoubtedly made worse by the presence of the 'borrowed' phonograph. Hoarding was an uncontrollable urge for Drakes, but Orzel didn't know that... Hoping to ease any tension that the device might've caused, Celestia gently adjusted the volume as the music began to filter through the phonograph, the gentle and soulful singing apparently having a calming effect on her adopted niece.

"Rem-Eddy...?" Orzel repeated quietly, nervousness giving way to curiosity, scratching her head she glanced about her desk. Celestia watched curiously while the girl suddenly stood from her chair and grabbed a prodigiously large dictionary. Given the girl's petite stature, the dictionary seemed all the more immense. To Celestia's surprise Orzel opened directly to the 'R' section, flipped through several pages, then stopped and leaned closer. "Rem-Eddy. Noun. A med-eh-sin or apple-cation to be curing the diss-ease... Or core-ecting of wrongs?... This eez what you are meaning, yis?" Celestia nodded quietly, earning a pleased smile from Orzel as she closed the dictionary and sat back down. "I know you busy... More import-tant things to do... Is onder... under-standable."

"While I have been busy, coming here was no less important." Celestia insisted, a bit more defensively than she would've hoped. While typically she could handle intentional barbs, the comment about 'more important things to do' recalled to mind the numerous memories of the weeks prior to Luna's becoming Nightmare Moon. How many 'more important things' prevented Celestia from spotting the coming disaster? She would never truly know... Unaware of the effect her words brought about in the Princess's mind, Orzel merely shrugged and went back to staring at the unfinished model. Celestia concluded that perhaps pressing the issue wouldn't be entirely wise, so she opted to change the subject.

"I'm glad to see you're putting the Castle's library to use, I don't think I've seen this many books depart its halls for several years..." Celestia continued, glancing out the window at the city beyond. "You're free to borrow as many as you want, you know? The phonograph, on the other hand, is something I would prefer you'd asked about before hand..." Orzel bit her lower lip, looking about her room and finally at the phonograph. It was clear the girl was conflicted, but Celestia needed to set clear boundaries about what was and wasn't acceptable to hoard... Luna would need to have her own discussion of course, this was merely laying the groundwork. "Even so, I'm impressed you carried it here by yourself, it must've been heavy..."

Orzel nodded absentmindedly, once again looking intently at the small airship on her desk as if it might've been missing something. Celestia meanwhile took in the rest of the room, spotting half a dozen or so other model sailing ships of various navies strewn throughout. They were arrayed on the lowest shelf on the wall, surrounded on either side by stacked books. Oddly, not a single model was done in a paint scheme Celestia recognized. Large white dragons on crimson sails, obviously hand painted judging by the brush strokes, atop ships with black hulls and gold and white trim. The airship currently in the process of being weathered was also receiving a similar scheme, though with no sails the white dragon was instead pictured upon a red shield at the aft of the ship. Each paint job on the completed models was considerably more precise than its predecessor, and Celestia could easily see that so far the airship resting on the desk would be the best so far.

"That's an interesting choice of model... Peregrine-class, right?" Celestia asked, somewhat worried that she wasn't making much progress.

Orzel's intense interest in the model just as well could've been her attempting to ignore Celestia, and it was hard not to fear she'd said something to irritate the girl. However, at the mention of the ship's class Orzel's eyes moved to meet Celestia's. The eye contact lasted briefly, Orzel's faintly glowing irises rapidly darting to the floor. Luna had warned her sister about the stigma Orzel associated with making eye contact with 'her betters' as well. In spite of the many gains they'd made, the girl still felt like she was unworthy of looking at Luna or Celestia directly, and that frankly broke Celestia's heart. Even her least confident subjects could meet her eyes, but not her niece...

"Yis, eez core-ect." Confirmed Orzel, scooting her chair back so as to offer Celestia a better view. "Eez not of my shel-ect-shun... They just... Air-aive." The Princess hummed quietly, figuring it would probably be worth a talk with Luna later about perhaps taking Orzel out to pick her own models. The journey's outside the Castle might provide a decent chance to get her familiar with the outside world, and maybe help her feel a little more in control of her life. Moreover, she would need a dedicated language tutor, as her butchered pronunciation of words simply didn't do her obvious intellect justice. Immersing herself in the actual language might prove a useful teaching aid in that respect. "Eez inter-resting. Griffon en-chant-ment to be of hovering... Stron-gurr than Equistran deh-sign, but not as aye-fish-ent." Celestia raised an eyebrow at that, stopping beside the desk and looking at the model in question. Sensing an opening, the woman pushed just a little further.

"Is that so? What makes them Stronger?" Inquired the Princess, as expected she saw Orzel's face brighten, a spark of intrigue glittering in her typically sad eyes. The girl turned in her seat, pointing at the model, specifically at a few of the tiny plastic engines affixed to the side on struts. The model lacked the familiar 'gas bag' so readily associated with airships from other countries, and in actuality looked more like a real naval ship that had simply been plucked from the ocean and modified for flight. This was typical of Griffon airships overall, though Celestia always figured it was the military design equivalent of a fad...

"Ehn-gines make go far-word, but also power en-chant-ment..." Orzel explained, then gestured above the model where the gas bag would've been. The ship was armed fairly lightly, for a Griffon ship, with only four single mounted five inch multipurpose guns. Given it was a patrol craft, however, that was understandable. The ship's specifications weren't of importance to Celestia, at least, not in their own right. However, Celestia couldn't deny that Orzel seemed more engaged when speaking at greater length about the airship, and that was reassuring. "Larger soup-or-structure, more weapons, better stab-bility... Can also landing in wah-ter if neck... Ness... Neh-cess-sary." She stopped, rubbing her chin and mumbling to herself in Kwarczkie, then looking out the window at a distant silhouette of an Equestrian rigid airship. Previously unseen as it had been blocked by several tall skyscrapers, it was now slowly working its way over the city. "When Equistra ad.. Addy... What eez word for make change?"

"Adapt?" Celestia confirmed the last word curiously, eying several of the books resting on Orzel's desk, the girl simply nodded. The music playing from the phonograph was gradually coming to an end, and so Celestia took a few brief moments to levitate a new record up to replace the old one. Meanwhile, Orzel was going about the task of cleaning her paint brushes. Her question was a difficult one to answer, especially considering Orzel wasn't the only one to ask it. It was also brought up numerous times by the Equestrian Ministry of Defense, as well as various other non-aligned members of the National Council. Here, however, Celestia didn't have to worry about appeasing certain persons, so she made her reasoning clear. "There's no threat that currently warrants building ships like this, and I don't foresee one in the future."

"So, you wait until threat eez upon you? Until eez too late?" Orzel countered distantly, setting her cleaned brushes aside, carefully arranging them from largest to smallest. Once again, Celestia noted Orzel seemed particularly keen on arraying them as neatly as possible, going so far as to use the flat edge of a ruler to line them up evenly after she'd finished her sorting. "Even old Pera-green-class eez better than Equistran airships, so you must taking steps to rem-eddy..." The girl paused, briefly mulling over the newly discovered word. "Yis, must rem-eddy."

Orzel's question about waiting for a threat to emerge was yet another one put forward many times by numerous Pro-Military politicians. In this case, however, Celestia suspected Orzel's desire to prepare for an unseen threat stemmed from her traumatic experience more than anything else. While Celestia could understand a desire to not see such a thing happen again, there was also the matter of the status quo to contend with. Equestria maintained peace through a balance of trade deals and non-aggression pacts, and suddenly 'upping the ante' in terms of airships could threaten to upset the balance of power. The girl seated before her, however, knew little of NAPs and international trade standards. To her, the matter of defense was likely a far simpler issue. She perceived a lack of strength, so the solution was to simply just acquire more strength, by whatever means necessary.

Orzel picked up one of the books nearest to her, which Celestia recognized as a Beginner's Guide to Equestrian, primarily because it was popular among immigrants that came to Equestria seeking a better life. The pages contained numerous lessons and exercises, all designed to better assist an aspiring language learner both in acquiring new skills and solidifying old ones. The girl stared at the cover for a few moments, then set it back on the desk and sighed, looking off thoughtfully. Celestia could see the gears turning in her niece's head, as if she was debating on whether or not to say something. This time, Celestia's intuition told her to hold off on pressing forward, to let Orzel come to the decision for herself...

"Meece Chalyista?" Orzel finally asked while looking at Celestia, though once again she failed to meet the woman's eyes directly. "I read, I ahnder-stand words... But." She looked down at her hands, sighing and shaking her head. "Why words hard, am I not smart?" Every word she spoke seemed hesitant, each syllable staggered and visibly difficult for her to parse together. Orzel silently opened her mouth, as if to further explain, only to close it and look away from Celestia with a glint of shame in her eyes.

"Quite the contrary." Celestia assured, leaning against Orzel's desk to better meet her eyes. "There are few people, even adults, that could speak with as much fluency as you have so quickly achieved." The girl didn't respond, simply gulping as she set her head in her hands. "It will take you time and effort to perfect your pronunciation, but that's why I'm going to try and visit as much as I can. I don't speak draconic like Luna, so it'll be good practice." Orzel only nodded, sitting up straight as she apparently couldn't get comfortable, even as more calming music filled the room. "Would you be interested in eating dinner with Luna and I later tonight? You could get a better look around."

"Maybe..." Orzel said quietly, and Celestia had a feeling that was the best answer she'd get. "Can I be alone?" The Princess nodded, standing up straight and maintaining her serene expression. Her thoughts turned once again to Luna, and all Celestia could do was hope she wasn't making the same mistakes. Orzel likely wouldn't turn into a being like Nightmare Moon, but the possibility of alienating her to the point of loathing still existed. Ultimately, however, Celestia doubted much could be gained by refusing the girl's request. She'd made progress enough already. "Thank you for visit..."

"You're welcome..." Celestia warmly spoke, gently patting Orzel on the head. "I'll send someone along in a few hours to collect you for dinner, okay?" Orzel nodded wordlessly, and with that Celestia quietly made her exit. Stepping out into the hallway, the Princess started on her way towards the throne room for what would be the beginnings of the afternoon court session. The walk would be a straightforward, if slightly long one, with plenty of time for Celestia to dwell on a series of concerns she'd kept under lock and key for her first solo meeting with Orzel.

Hopefully the girl would accept the invitation to dinner, as the matters that previously occupied Celestia's mind could possibly be put to rest there. Luna would most likely be relieved to settle the issues as well. Certain questions had been raised by the few members of the National Council made aware of Orzel's existence, questions that lacked easy answers. While on paper it was within the purview of the Crown to grant nobility and titles to anyone for any reason they so chose, in practice things were frustratingly more complicated. The National Council could make life very difficult for those attempting to pass new laws, regardless of if the laws were vital or not, and they would only relent if their demands were met. On this matter, however, no amount of posturing or protest could alter what would be done.

The problem was that Equestria lacked a precedent for a child adopted into royalty, let alone if that child was a non-citizen... What their duties would entail, what role they would play in the Royal Family, Orzel would likely have to fight for every inch of authority... There was also the more pressing issue that Equestria was sorely lacking in the department of Royalty for the moment. Luna's return a year or so ago, while bringing great joy to Celestia's heart, also highlighted how tenuous and overly centralized power had become.

What would happen to Equestria in the event Celestia and Luna were both slain or otherwise incapacitated? So much relied on the existence of a reigning monarch that, without one, Celestia feared the entire country could collapse upon itself. She had a few long term plans in the works to remedy the situation, to decentralize power and reduce the government's overall size. In the short term there was only Luna, Blueblood, and herself to possibly take the throne. Mi Amore Cadenza was soon to join the fold, at least officially, though even her addition wouldn't be enough. That, unfortunately, left little choice but to elevate Orzel.

Orzel was intelligent enough for the position, as evidenced by her thirst for knowledge. She was well on her way to being physically healthy as well, aided by the arcane awakening of her draconic biology. Those were all important factors, but where the problem arose was with state her mental health...? It was hard to say if she would ever be able to take on such a heavy responsibility as ruling a country. At present she certainly couldn't hope to lead Equestria through a crisis, but if they started teaching her as soon as possible... Maybe she could be.

What Celestia feared most was the how girl's state of mind would interact with the emergence of draconic instinct. She was at present emotionally unstable, prone to rash behavior and self doubt. Traits that wouldn't out and out disqualify her if she was an Equestrian, but when taken with a draconic lineage certainly didn't make the idea of her guiding the entire country through a crisis any more appealing. For the moment Celestia saw little choice... A choice to which Luna reluctantly agreed. They could've selected a General or Councilman, but Celestia needed someone that wasn't out to further their own career or prone to being politically partisan.

Orzel could be molded and taught in a way that suited Equestria's needs, taught to be a pragmatic leader in the event of an emergency where she needed to take power. It was a cold, calculating, disquieting decision to make... One that turned Celestia's stomach, but what other choice was there? Equestria had to survive, the nation maintained the balance of power around the globe, and ensured world peace so long as it remained. It could not continue to reliably do so with the possibility for an internal power vacuum, or worse, total governmental collapse.

To ensure a healthy line of succession in the event the worst came to pass, there was simply no other way but to put the burden on Orzel. It was decisions like this that made Celestia wish there was anyone else to do her job, but there wasn't... Every problem in the whole world landed on her desk, and even with Luna's help she could hardly keep up. In the realm of geo-politics, sometimes she was forced to do bad things for good reasons, and good things for bad reasons...

The cost of these decisions were paid in the hours upon hours spent awake in her bedchambers, staring vacantly up at her ceiling, too tired to do anything, but still unable to sleep. For more than a thousand years she'd faced her conscience alone, as all rulers must... How many mistakes had she made in those years? They might've been small, but they certainly added up. Now she and Luna would both bring a traumatized orphan into that realm, consigning her to the very same fate of tortured conscience for the greater good of all... With a sigh and a shake of her head, Celestia looked out the window at the city of Canterlot... The crown atop her head felt that much heavier now...

Orzel's sigh echoed off the cavernous vaulted ceiling above as she made her way through the castle hallways, following behind a guard in shining gold armor. The hours since Celestia's visit were spent tensely painting her latest model, pacing the floor, and wanting to just crawl under her bed to hide. It wasn't that she didn't like the Princess, Orzel didn't really know her enough to dislike her... It was just that the girl's anxiety over meeting Celestia and Luna at dinner was unlike any she'd ever felt before, an indescribably abstract terror induced by the mere thought of breaking bread with royalty. This fear invariably spawned the uncomfortable ache she now felt in her lower back, even as she tried to assure herself that she would be alright. No amount of self reassurance could bring her rampaging worries to heel, and with moderately good reason. This would mark Orzel's first meal taken outside of her bedroom, as well as the first time she'd left the comforting seclusion of her inner sanctum for anything resembling a 'social call'.

Needless to say, Orzel's overactive imagination was ballooning the issue to catastrophic proportions, with consequences she perceived would be equally destructive. So, why then had she decided to go in the first place, when she was so certain only failure awaited her? Orzel wasn't really sure of that herself, and that in and of itself would've been enough to send her into a tizzy. Was it some desire for self destruction or blind hubris that possessed her to think it wise to ever leave her room? The girl glanced over her shoulder, looking back upon the marbled hallway. Half of her mind was screaming at her to bolt, to run back to safety and never leave, to just lock herself away and bury herself in books and plastic kits. All that prevented her blind flight, however, was what those kits represented. Fragility, insignificance, weakness... Just several traits that she hated about herself.

Orzel and her escorting guardsman passed numerous illustrious paintings of men and women in noble clothing, ranging from throughout the ages of Equestrian history. Some she recognized from her books, others remained unknown to her. From the hawkish eyes of General Sun Dew to the conniving glare of Manipolare the Callous. All seemed to track Orzel, glaring at her, to the point she visibly wilted beneath their unwavering gaze. There upon the canvas was yet more evidence that she simply didn't belong here. She may have been a member of the Warrior Caste, but with her damnably weak eyes she was hardly fit to fight for the Empire. Had she come of age in Cesarski, her only hope would have been an arranged marriage with another member of the Warrior Caste, an eventuality Mother and Father had done all they could to ensure she'd be ready for... One thing was clear, no one in the Empire would ever want a painting of her.

Exhaling tensely through her nose, Orzel's shoulders slumped forward. Her butchery of Equestria's spoken language earlier that day was but a prelude to what lay ahead. It was bad enough that she stood out so visibly, a detestable weed among the well curated garden of nobility, but her imbecilic destruction of the spoken word would cement her inadequacy for all to see. Nervously she raised her eyes from the floor, glancing at the guard and then about her current path, searching for any crack or crevice she could scamper into and hide. Her moment presented itself after a few more minutes of walking, arriving as they passed an intersection of hallways. As stealthily as she could, Orzel stepped into the right portion of the intersection and pressed her back up against the wall. The guard apparently didn't notice, his echoing footsteps continuing on faintly down the hall without pause.

Sighing with relief, Orzel tried to take a moment to catch her breath and assemble her thoughts. That moment became a minute, which stretched on into several, all spent leaning against the wall. Paralyzed. Dejectedly her eyes remained fixed on the floor, darting back and forth whilst her mind sorted the calamity about to unfold. The Princesses would be furious at her for failing to arrive at dinner, but virtually any punishment they bestowed was a preferable alternative to making a complete and utter fool of herself. So caught up in her own thoughts was she that, at first, she didn't recognize the sound of footsteps approaching from the very hallway she'd taken shelter in. Their owner was practically right next to her when she realized what the noise had been.

There stood a man dressed in a regal assortment of clothing, most of it a notable shade of blue, obviously a noble by the way he carried himself. Impassively he looked down upon her, his eyes belying an intense intellect otherwise hidden beneath his flat expression. The nobleman's skin was as pale as new fallen snow, and he wore his blonde hair in a stylish coif, not a single strand of which was out of place. The impeccably groomed stranger virtually oozed resolve, and his silent stare compelled Orzel to try and stand up closer to the wall. Gulping nervously, she averted her eyes downwards and away.

"Are you lost, child?" The man asked in Equestrian, his tone careful and refined. That took Orzel by surprise, she'd expected to be shouted at, or otherwise forcefully told off for being in a place she had no right to be. She briefly opened her mouth to speak, but stopped herself as she feared the monstrosity of sound that would pour forth. If he wasn't angry already, brutalizing the local language was sure to push him over the edge. Her silence, unfortunately, was wholly unacceptable to the stranger. "Come now, speak up."

"N-No..." Orzel mumbled cautiously in Equestrian, her voice bearing her incredibly thick accent. "No speak Equistran good." She added, hoping that would be enough to sate the noble's curiosity. The man seemed undeterred by her lack of fluency, placing his hands on his hips and cocking his head to the side. She could see confusion in his eyes, likely him attempting to figure out just what kind of language Orzel spoke. "I go?" She asked hopefully.

"No." The man stated flatly, gesturing down the hallway the guard previously departed along. "Come with me, this is no place for you to run about." If only the man knew just how true those words actually were. Reluctantly, Orzel followed the nobleman down the hallway she'd initially hoped to avoid, though her escort was no longer visible ahead of her. Once more Orzel contemplated why she even considered leaving her room tonight. Things had just gone from bad to worse, as now there would likely be three powerful people upset with her. "I must have a word with Shining Armor, far too many children wandering off..." The man mumbled under his breath with a disapproving shake of his head. "Gods forbid one of you gets hurt. Perish the thought..." He glanced down at Orzel, and the girl quickly averted her eyes once more. "Do you find me appalling?" Orzel shook her head. "Then why look away? It's rude."

"Not where I from." Orzel struggled through the words, eyes still stuck upon the marble flooring. She gulped once again, here was a Noble that didn't know who she was, or why she acted the way she did. Why did the Equestrians have to be so backwards, how could they function without the rigors so common to Imperial society? Every passing moment she must've been offending him, digging a deeper hole for herself. Her racing heart felt as if it would leap from within her chest, and the ache of anxiety in her back was nearly unbearable. "Op... Opp... Opp-o-site is true." She sounded each word out carefully, her stilted speech grating against even her own ears like sandpaper.

"I see..." The stranger hummed thoughtfully, clasping both hands behind his back whilst he kept pace with Orzel. She would be unable to slip away so easily this time, barring a sudden lapse in interest on the part of the nobleman. "Well, be that as it may, it's considered rude here. You don't seem like a rude child to me, so come now, eyes up!" His voice was insistent, but thankfully not in a chiding way. The girl gulped nervously, raising her gaze from the floor. The beating in her chest grew louder in her ears, but her fear of further offending the man forced her to confront her apparent 'rudeness'. "From where do you hail, your accent is... Strange."

"Far away." Orzel responded with purposeful vagueness, unsure of if her motherland's name would have any meaning to the man. She doubted it would, all things considered. "Sorry Equistran bad..." The stranger shrugged simply, retaining his implacable expression as they continued down the hallway. Her desire not to further offend him drove her to more carefully choose her syllables... Rough as they may have been, at least she wasn't butchering words as ruthlessly as was the case when earlier visited by Celestia. "Steel... Still stud-y-ing."

"At least you're trying to learn our language." The stranger responded, shaking his head quietly. "Far too many tourists arrive with no means of communicating. Take pride in that!" Orzel nodded quietly, tucking her hands into her pockets and consciously forcing herself to look straight ahead rather than at the floor. "Be sure to let me know if I'm speaking too quickly for you, by the way. I realize understanding a foreign language must be difficult when you're still learning."

The fact that this nobleman was speaking to her normally, and in some form complimenting her, was a strange and bizarre experience for the girl. Luna's words about 'all people being treated the same' sprang to mind, as did the various ideas she'd come to know by means of her vast collection of books. The thoughts rattled around her brain with undeniable boldness, gradually eroding years of conditioning with frightful efficiency...

The girl once again remained silent, doing her best not to buckle under the cold staring paintings that lined each side of the hallway. Ahead of them a rather frantic looking guard was making his way down the hallway, even at this distance she could tell it was the very same man she'd slipped away from earlier. Spotting her beside the stranger, the guard stormed down the hallway with a speed Orzel hadn't expected. She tensed up and stopped walking, causing the noble to nearly bump into her. Fearing what the Guard would do when he arrived, the girl quietly moved to stand behind her latest new acquaintance.

"There you are!" The guard announced with relief, in between several gasps of breath. Orzel could hear him panting heavily, and his posture was one of exhaustion. Suddenly, the girl became quite aware of a growing sense of guilt over what she'd likely put the guard through... There she was, afraid of being yelled at, and yet she'd not stopped to consider what would happen to her assigned escort should he have failed to arrive with her. "Prince Blueblood, I apologize for the intrusion. I've been looking for this girl for nearly twenty minutes." Blueblood looked down at Orzel, then back at the guard, his impassive expression suddenly growing suspicious. "Come along, child, they're waiting for you."

"Hold one moment, guardsman." Blueblood stated, stepping aside so that Orzel could no longer hide behind him. Her nervousness must've been evident on her face, as his suspicious eyes gradually abated to something more akin to curious uncertainty. Torn between fear over how the Princesses would react and guilt for how poorly she'd treated the guardsman, it was a wonder she hadn't fainted under the strain. Blueblood apparently picked up on her inner turmoil, as his withering gaze became a tad more sympathetic. Quietly he looked back at the guard, setting his jaw with a grunt of stern command. "Who is waiting for her?"

"The Princesses, my liege. Celestia herself bade me to bring the child to the dining hall." The guard explained nervously, undoubtedly fearing many of the same things Orzel feared... "This is Princess Luna's daughter, Princess Orzel. She will be most displeased should I fail to arrive with her in tow." Blueblood furrowed his brow, taking in the information and looking once more at the girl. Orzel, meanwhile was standing with an utterly stunned expression, to such an extent that a stiff breeze might've been enough to knock her over. Any feeling of guilt or inner turmoil had been thoroughly pulverized by two simple words, and replaced with overwhelming astonishment. Did the guardsman just call her 'Princess Orzel'? Surely there must've been some sort of mistake... She may have been Luna's 'daughter', but not by blood. How could she hold such a title as Princess?

"I have heard rumors my Aunt adopted a child, though I didn't believe them true." Blueblood muttered thoughtfully, rubbing at his chin before nodding his head. "Very well, guardsman. You may return to your post, I'm on my way to the dining hall, young Orzel will accompany me." The guard nodded, saluting before walking away with the stride of a far more relieved person. She would've felt far less guilty now that the matter of the Guardsman's fate was no longer in jeopardy, at least if she wasn't still pulling herself together. "Come along, Princess..."

"I am not Princess." Orzel's words carried numb disbelief, all she could manage to do was follow behind Blueblood, eyes once more cast to the floor. Astonishment was rapidly giving way to a veritable maelstrom of confusion, a storm compounded by the suddenness of it all. Not once did Luna make mention of Orzel's becoming a Princess, nor had Celestia, the subject hadn't even been brought up. Going by the standards of the Szafirian Empire it simply didn't make sense, the few adopted children of the Emperor were not afforded such honors. After all, how could someone not of Royal blood hold Royal office? "Must be mis-take..." Orzel asserted. "Am not all-owed to be Royalty." She repeated softly, shaking her head.

"Possibly so where you come from, but not here." Blueblood countered with a slightly more sympathetic tone, it was evident from his softening features he could sense Orzel's confusion. "I know both of my Aunts very well, they don't make such mistakes." He paused, chuckling faintly as he looked down at himself. "Well, perhaps once, but not in your case. The law is quite clear, they may confer the title upon anyone they so choose. I suspect that may very well be what they desired to speak to me about tonight..." He tucked his hands into his pockets. "Typically I am not invited to their nightly meals."

"Why?" Asked Orzel while forcing herself to look up at the man, her heart gradually returning to it's normal quiet rhythm as the initial shock wore off. The Prince had a sort of confidence to his stride that she recognized the more she walked with him, the kind that had been favored by her Father whenever he returned home, and it placed her mind more firmly at ease. Blueblood faintly chuckled upon hearing her question, a rueful smile appearing on his well groomed face.

"It's a matter I doubt someone of your age would understand." He explained with an audible hint of mirth, which did little to answer her question. She likely very well could've understood what the matter was all about, if only she'd been given the chance to hear it. Even if she couldn't have, there wasn't a question in existence that couldn't be answered with proper research and tenacity, as she was fast coming to believe. "It would have been nice to be informed of your existence earlier, though I suppose that too is to be expected. Aunt Celestia and I aren't exactly on speaking terms." Blueblood's tone became a bit more harsh, his jaw tensing in visible frustration. Orzel remained silent, now nervously glancing between the enigmatic Prince and the hallway ahead.

After a few minutes of silent walking, Blueblood turned down a hallway that terminated in a pair of large oaken doors. They were just as ornately decorated as the rest of the castle, bearing expertly carved reliefs and gold insets, depicting an eight pointed sun and crescent moon on each door. Orzel could make out the faint smell of potatoes and fish wafting from beyond the great barrier, a smell she'd never expected to encounter again in all honesty. It was Commoner food, after all... Then again, she didn't really know what constituted 'Royal food' to begin with. The girl took a deeply calming breath and followed the Prince, the gratefully familiar aroma helping to curtail her newly omnipresent anxiety.

Blueblood pulled open the doors and revealed what lay beyond with hardly enough time for Orzel to clear her head. The room was immense, with a large wide wooden table at its center, flanked by decoratively carved chairs and illuminated by brilliantly crafted golden candelabras. It was without a doubt the largest single piece of wood Orzel ever laid eyes upon, perhaps outside of those used to build the hulls of the Empire's warships. The smoothly polished cocobolo surface glittered in the candlelight, even with much of its surface obscured by various trays of food. Some were hidden beneath silver covers, while others bore a few loaves of bread or pieces of fruit.

Both Princesses were seated at the heads of the table, dressed appropriately for the occasion, apparently in the middle of some hushed conversation. A man in a tuxedo stood off to the side of the room beside a metal cart, his lips set in a scowl beneath his thin handlebar mustache. Blueblood's sudden entrance drew the attention of both Princesses, abruptly halting their earlier discussion while their eyes passed first to the Prince and then to Orzel. Blueblood found himself on the receiving end of a pair of annoyed looks, Orzel might've worried they were meant for her if not for how directly both Luna and Celestia were staring right at the Prince. She could see a great deal of conflict in Luna's eyes when they finally met her own, a sight most unusual given Luna's typical aspect of stoic strength and compassion. The girl briefly glanced over her shoulder, casting a fleeting glance to the hallway just as the man in the tuxedo closed the doors... There was no escape now.

"Welcome, Orzel, I'm pleased you were willing to join us. Please, take a seat." Celestia gently greeted, then gestured to a seat to the right of Princess Luna. "Blueblood, it's... Agreeable to see you again as well." Blueblood merely nodded noncommittally, moving to take a seat at the middle of the table. Orzel quietly moved to sit beside Luna, each of her breaths shallow, each movement made with utmost care. The look in Luna's eyes set her anxiety alight once more, what was it that had the woman so on edge? Surely what the Guard and Blueblood had said wasn't true, Celestia and Luna weren't going to make her a Princess, so what then was the meaning of the invitation? "I requested the chef make a few Draconic seafood dishes, to spice things up a bit. I hope you don't mind."

"Of course not." Blueblood responded with a faux cordial tone, before sighing as the server came forth with a pair of trays. One was set down before the Prince, the other before Orzel. The man lifted the lid from her tray before moving on to the Prince and Princesses, the meal that lay beneath was... Familiar, though not from her time in Equestria. A piece of pan fried whitefish, accompanied by mashed potatoes and what appeared to be an Equestrian approximation of kielbasa... Not all that different from what her Mother used to make. Despite her growing anxiety, seeing and smelling the dish brought a small smile to her lips. The other dishes set about the table were uncovered soon after, revealing several different types of fish and a few salads.

Celestia and Blueblood began eating, talking occasionally among themselves, while Orzel stared quietly at her plate. It wasn't that she didn't like the food, but some part of her worried over what it might represent. Why were they serving her favorite food, unless they had some bad news to tell her, and this was their way of softening the blow? After a few moments enduring the mounting dread, Orzel glanced over at Luna, who seemed to be waiting for her to start eating. Closing her eyes, the girl took a moment to try and clear her head, as she'd become completely paralyzed with indecision. There were so many questions, so many worries, and she just couldn't handle them all on her own. She needed help, real help, and the only person she could hope to turn to in that moment was sitting to her left...

"Miss Luna?" Orzel quietly asked in her Szafirian, leaning closer to Luna while the fear came sprinting towards her, but there was nowhere to hide within her own mind. Luna hummed in acknowledgment, lacing her fingers together and looking at Orzel expectantly. The Princess's posture softened, just as it typically did when she came to visit... Talking in that manner felt easier, more natural, and it was the only time the girl ever felt safe expressing herself. In that moment, Orzel came to the conclusion that if ever there was a time to trust that Luna wanted what was best for her, it would be this one. "I heard the guard call me a Princess, and Mister Blueblood says it is not a mistake... Is that true?"

"Well..." Luna began in the same language, quietly looking at Celestia across the table, the room suddenly going silent. Luna's eyes returned to Orzel's, shimmering in the candle light, it was clear she too was carefully choosing her words. "Yes, Orzel. That is one of the reasons we wanted to speak to you tonight." Orzel stared at Luna, once again stunned, her jaw practically scraping the floor. "You mean a great deal to myself and Celestia, and even if we have not known each other for very long you are nonetheless a member of the Royal Family..." Luna continued, pausing for a moment and resting a gentle hand on Orzel's shoulder. "You are my daughter, and that grants you the title of Princess... Furthermore, as my daughter, you are my heir. One day, when you are ready, the Obsidian Throne and all the duties that come with it, will be passed to you." The woman turned in her seat, meeting Orzel's eyes directly. "I admit, this will not be an easy undertaking, but as with all things..." She took Orzel's hand softly into her own. "You shall not be alone."

"It is... A lot to take in." Orzel admitted, quietly biting her lower lip and looking at the table. So it was real, Luna and Celestia had made her a Princess, just like that. Never mind that she didn't know the first thing about being a Princess, once again Equestria had proven just how strange it was compared to the Empire. There she was, a member of the Royal family, simply because she'd been adopted? Quietly processing just what she'd been told, and being more than a little skeptical of its truthfulness, Orzel leaned backwards in her seat.

In the Szafirian Empire, those that took on the responsibility of caring for an orphaned child were widely celebrated. In many cases, at least according to her Father, it was done merely as demonstration of one's piousness or devotion to the state. Generally the adoption was without a full commitment from the parents in question, something Orzel feared would be the case with her. Yet evidence contradicted that assertion. Luna had taken her in instantly, without hesitation, and embraced the frightened teen as her own flesh and blood. The woman went expressly out of her way to make Orzel feel welcome, to provide her with access to fields of knowledge and information that simply wouldn't have existed in her old life... Only in that instant did both heart and mind come to an accord within Orzel. What Luna so adamantly claimed about status of birth being unimportant, about her not being alone, it was all true...

Soon yet another thought clawed its way into the forefront, that being the subject of the 'duties' Luna mentioned. In the Empire, there was said to be no higher calling than to perform one's duty to the state. Her Father readily answered the call as a Naval officer, her Mother was a Shield Matron, but Orzel was too weak eyed to ever serve on a Navy ship, or in the temples of Vindicta. There was no way for her to uphold her 'duty' outside of marrying and having children, who in turn would grow up to serve the state. That was the way of the things, all were expected to 'do their part' without so much as a hint of defiance, even those unable to actually fight. It was the only way for the Empire to survive, that's how it'd always been. The world was filled with people that would want nothing more than to eradicate the Empire and all its peoples from existence... Thus the state, particularly the MIS, had to take a heavy hand if they were to survive in the face of roving bands of savage primitive tribes, backstabbing rival nation-states, and those rebellious 'Enemies of the State' that would seek undermine the Emperor's glorious rule.

From what Orzel read thus far in her beloved books, Equestria was everything the rebels and other dissenters claimed to have desired. Yet it was not the anarchic wasteland of apocalyptic destruction the Ministry of Truth purported would arise from such a society. She didn't fear the arrival of the agents of the Ministry of Internal Security here as she might've done back home. In fact, as far as she'd seen, there was no sign of the Equestrians having an sort of apparatus for making those that disagreed with the state disappear. So what did that mean for her now? As a Princess, was it not her task to make Equestria more like the Empire? Initially her heart demanded as much, as it had always been conditioned to do, but this time it was Orzel's mind that won out. She was, for all intents and purposes, a member of an Equestrian family now... Such was the way of adoption, by Szafirian custom. Her duty now lay with her family, with Equestria, with its ideals and its people.

"If it makes things easier for you..." Luna spoke up, drawing Orzel from her thoughts. "Whatever 'caste' you may have once belonged to, it is my decree that from hence forth you are a child of Royalty, and entitled to all the powers, privileges, and responsibilities therein." She made a point of emphasizing the last bit. Orzel stared at the woman, uncertain of how to respond. Out of instinct, she called upon all her memories to find some way of declining, some lack of precedence or obscure technicality... Yet even by the standards of the Empire, there was no reasonable way to refuse the decree of a Sovereign. That this Sovereign also happened to be her Adoptive Mother further compounded that. Try as she might to subconsciously deny elevation, there was no feasible way of doing so, not without dishonoring Luna. "You would not decline such an invitation, would you?"

"No, Miss Luna, I would not..." Orzel responded, smiling faintly as Luna gently hugged her. "Thank you... For respecting my people's traditions, I realize they are strange to you, but..." The girl trailed off. Luna chuckled as she broke off the hug, displaying a warm smile of her own. Blueblood and Celestia had since returned to their meals, apparently content to allow the draconic conversation to continue in their absence. "If I am of your family, what is my new surname?"

"Whatever you wish it to be, Orzel. I would not ask you to give up your family's name, unless that is what you wished." Luna explained, watching as Orzel cautiously began to eat her meal. It tasted just as good as it looked, which was to say incredible. The mashed potatoes were warm and fluffy, the kielbasa to die for, and the white fish pan fried to perfection... Of course, it didn't quite compare to traditional Szafirian cuisine. The kielbasa wasn't as spicy as Orzel liked, nor as crisp, though it was by no means bad. Just... Different. "Truth be told, neither Celestia or I have surnames in the traditional sense. It is actually a question I have wondered, does your surname have special meaning?"

"My family is as old as the Empire, ever since it is said the first Szafirians landed on the shores of what would become Cesarski." Orzel explained between bites, recounting the story of her ancestors just as it had been told to her by her Mother and Father on every winter solstice. "According to legend, many of the founders had strange and wondrous powers, and my ancestors were among those that could speak and infuse objects with fantastical abilities. So, my family was known for having a 'dragon's voice'. Through the years, as magic became rarer and rarer throughout the Empire, my family lost this ability."

"I see..." Luna thoughtfully hummed, leaning back in her seat with a look of contemplation. "Now that you are in Equestria, with proper training, you may be able to restore this ability. Magic is far more abundant here." Orzel stopped mid bite, staring at Luna with yet another astonished expression. "There is a reason I can speak your language, I am certain you have happened upon books pertaining to Drakes. I believe that your ancestors once resided in this world."

"So my Mother was more correct than she could have ever known..." Orzel stated after swallowing her food, staring ahead as the realization settled in. Mother promised that the fates wouldn't allow the magic to take them someplace unsafe, and what better place than the fabled 'Old Realm'. Home to the Szafirian people countless millenia ago, a place where magic permeated every fiber of creation... With all that Orzel had seen and read, she could only concur with what Luna had said. Any anxiety that remained vanished for the moment, replaced by unbridled excitement and wonder. "You say my people once lived here... That I can restore my family's magic?"

"It is certainly possible... I am not a Drake, I cannot channel my magic with my voice alone, but the general principles of enchanting are the same." Luna agreed, leaning forwards again to get a better look at Orzel. The teen was displaying a mixture of realization, and growing horror, for the more she thought on Luna's words the harder it was to believe so much that she'd been raised to trust. If Orzel now resided within the Old Realm, then that raised several nasty questions, questions most certainly frowned upon by the MIS and the church. There could be no denying that this place was the Old Realm, there was far too much evidence to the contrary. That begged the question as to where was Vindicta, where was her infinite castle, her vast immortal armies? The Old Realm was said to be her domain, where the souls of all the Empire's honored dead came to find their rest... If Vindicta wasn't there, then where could she be? "Are you alright, is it something I said?" Orzel shoved the realization as deeply down as she could, burying it as she forced a smile and shook her head.

"No, I am fine... Really." Orzel spoke with a voice that was a bit too high, practically lying through her teeth. "I am just thinking about what it means to be here, is all... To learn to use magic, as my ancestors did." This was followed by an all too nervous laugh, one that obviously caught the Princess's attention. Luna looked at her with an intensity that was difficult to endure, and Orzel could tell just by the look in the woman's eyes that she didn't believe her story for a second. Taking several frantic bites from her plate, Orzel did her best to keep up the appearance that she was fine, but deep down she only wanted one thing... To run as fast as she could back to her room, lock the doors, and reread every single book in her possession until she forgot that terrible realization. She couldn't run, though, not at the moment... All she could do was sit, put up a brave front, and try to make it to the end of dinner...

Chapter 5

The mixing scent of aging leather and dusty paper was one Orzel could never seem to get enough of, and there were few places better to experience its intoxicating aroma than Canterlot Castle's Private Library. Stocked on all sides with ancient bookshelves, each housing stories of old, both real and fictitious. The early morning sun gushed in by way of the rooms impressive skylight, casting brilliant rays of gold through the dusty air. Various wooden tables were kept immaculate of clutter, save one that bore the sizable stack of books Orzel already scoured from cover to cover in search of new knowledge. Embraced by the leather arm chair at the library's center, dressed comfortably in a navy blue button down tunic and trousers, Princess Orzel had immersed herself into a world of fantasy.

Silently the girl's eyes flitted behind her spectacles, darting over each line upon the page with feverish intrigue, committing them almost instantly to memory. It was a fascinating story, in which the heroine, a woman by the name of Hearth Fire, was unwittingly tasked with the safe delivery of a platinum ring to a mysterious wizard's tower in a far off city of vices, a ring with which that same wizard would defeat a great foe. The protagonist awoke after being mortally wounded, yet somehow she'd survived, saved from death and pulled from a shallow grave by a golem working on behalf of the aforementioned wizard. Through sheer determination, the hero was fighting her way across a vast and dangerous desert. Gathering allies in her quest to prepare to fight a growing force of evil in the East, and recoup that which was unceremoniously looted from her not quite deceased personage...

The story was describing concepts and ideas that simply wouldn't have been acceptable in the Szafirian Empire, once again these were primarily due to themes that went against Imperial Edict and the teachings of the Vindictan church. There were other aspects, such as the hero's flagrant disregard for the authority of the state, which likewise would have earned its author a place in the Imperial prison system, or at the very least a less than friendly visit from the MIS. The most ostentatious example of such dissident material would be that of the heroines's love interest who, as it happened, was another woman. The concept of two women, or men for that matter, living together in a romantic sense was something wholly forbidden both by Imperial Law and Vindictan dogma. To willingly seek out such material, even for but a glimpse, was typically grounds for imprisonment, if not outright summary execution.

Admittedly Orzel stopped putting much stock into the teachings of the Church in the weeks following her first 'family dinner' with Luna and Celestia, though in her heart she still felt a strong sense of taboo each time the subject of two women being together was mentioned. However, she reasoned that for a leader to properly rule, they would need to view issues from all sides, not just the accepted ones. Something about that 'forbidden love' aspect of this particular story spoke to Orzel on a deeper level, yet another quandary that she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to confront, as if she even had a choice in the matter. The girl was never much of a 'true believer' like her Mother, though not for lack of trying on the part of the latter. Orzel was more partial to Maritima, Goddess of the Sea... Nonetheless, she'd been raised to view the values of the Empire and the Church as absolute and unerring truth.

Whether Orzel wholly ascribed to those beliefs impressed upon her, however, was a different matter altogether. What she felt now, in this secluded sanctum of scholarly lore, was a sense of discordant emotions hitherto unthinkable in her short life of fifteen summers... No, it was sixteen summers now, or 'years' as the Equestrians reckoned such things. In the eyes of the Empire and the Church, those damnable malcontent thoughts and feelings were most degenerate in nature... Were she still alive, Orzel's mother would surely have raised all manner of righteous tumult, as Shield Matrons of the Church were ever so want to do. That mental image only served to highlight every aspect of her Mother's faith that had seemed flawed in Orzel's eyes even prior to her coming here. Unreasonable, uncompromising, a permanently inflexible organization of dogmatic scripture devoted to the so-called 'Goddess of War'...

If she were truly the Goddess of War, where then had Vindicta been as Orzel's home burned? She was supposedly the Defender of the Faithful, said by the Priestesses to be the stalwart protector of the Empire. There existed no city in all the world more devoted to her worship than Cesarski. Orzel could still picture the monolithic statues and shrines erected in her honor, all of which now undoubtedly laid in ruins beneath a myriad of putrefying flesh and charred timber. Here Orzel sat, in the Old Realm, without so much as a sign of the supposed Goddess. In the end, for all Cesarski's posturing and prostrating, Vindicta's 'protection' turned out to be little more than a comforting lie... All the sacred scrolls, all the books and tapestries within the temples and shrines, amounted to no more than tinder against the cruel flames of fate.

Only shortly after having had that thought did Orzel realize that she'd failed to turned the page. Her eyes were simply running over the same lines of text over and over again, not once progressing any further. Silently closing the book, the girl set it upon the table beside her chair and leaned back in the plush embrace of the seat... She was tired, understandable given her continued lack of sleep over the past weeks or so. In those few hours of rest, her nightmares would invariably return to the night she'd come to Equestria. Back to the destruction of Cesarski, and her Mother's horrific demise, which raised even more unnerving questions.

What ultimately became of her Mother's soul, if all that was told of by the Sacred Scrolls was fake? It was a question she didn't necessarily want an answer to, yet one that like so many tormented her every waking moment. More and more Orzel found herself shunning the faith her mother so ardently defended, and with that came a growing anxiety that she would come to shun the memory of her own Mother by extension. These thoughts, unfortunately, weren't helped by her current choice in literature.

Within the pages of her novel, Hearth Fire was arguing with one of her confidants about the nature of 'Divine Intervention'. The words had effortlessly leaped from the paper, lancing through Orzel's soul, dismissing so many years of indoctrination with the simple turn of a page. Despite her best efforts to the contrary, for all her attempts to cling to the past, Orzel was already coming to the startling conclusion that Vindicta simply might not exist... Did any of the Gods for that matter? Maybe they did, just not in the way so explicitly explained.

Luna consistently encouraged Orzel to think for herself, to look at the evidence and draw her own conclusions. The problem was defining what was and wasn't evidence? When dealing with the theological conundrum, how could one quantify such a thing? Bad things happened, certainly, but so too did good things... If that was the sole metric of evidence, then it was wholly subjective. After all, what was bad for one could be good for another. Maybe Vindicta did exist within the Old Realm, maybe it was indeed where the souls of the Empire's honored dead came to reside, just not in a place thus far seen?

The story served only to further stir up worries of volcanic proportion, ones laying dormant in Orzel's mind since before that fateful night of tears... If there was some 'greater power', it was so nebulous and undefined that no beast, nor man, nor scholar, nor philosopher could ever hope to comprehend its plan or purpose. Perhaps Orzel's very arrival to Equestria was the doing of that strange being beyond mortal comprehension, even if the scrolls had been almost entirely wrong? They were written by people after all, and people were hardly infallible creatures. Or maybe, Orzel pondered, she was just lying to herself in thinking there was still a chance of theistic existence, because the idea of there being some enigmatic and unknowable God was more comforting than that of no God at all.

Going beyond her constantly growing fears as to whether there was or wasn't some form of higher power, an already unnerving and disturbing subject in its own right, the also proposed a form of government that clashed considerably with the Empire as Orzel knew it. Father always led her to believe the Empire would never know any other way of governance, that each citizen existed to serve the greater glory of the state. While things like 'elections' sounded pretty on paper, the system of Imperial rule was far too engrained to ever be dismantled. Having an Emperor seemed to work, as far as Orzel knew, having seen Szafirian influence spread throughout the globe like never before. The Empire was built upon a constant state of war, and those that impeded that imperative by undermining the Emperor were to be considered beneath contempt.

The story that so thoroughly tortured Orzel's young and curious mind postulated that 'The People' existed not to live at the disposal of the state, but rather the opposite. It called for radical ideas, such seditious notions as 'Democracy' and 'Limited Power', all concepts openly accepted by the Equestrian Government. It still made little sense to her, how could such a country exist without an Emperor to break the otherwise unbreakable deadlock? Of course, the story also demonstrated clearly that even for as 'powerful' an Emperor might seem upon his throne, that power meant little if he lacked either the will or the intellect to use it properly.

The monarchistic government of Hearth Fire's country, for example, was weak in the face of the Eastern menace. It sought to appease the threat with trade and negotiations, rather than destroy it outright. Feeding the enemy, giving him strength whilst weakening their own positions... Hearth Fire therefore was assembling a committee of the best minds and Generals she could find, as in theory more minds communicating together would yield a smaller margin for error than a single decision maker. It was, of course, not a perfect solution... There were those with their own interests emerging, those that would seek to undermine the goals of Hearth Fire and her truest allies. Orzel wondered just how the mighty heroine of her story would be able to mend such obvious failings, if such a thing was even possible...

"Why can I not just forget these notions?" Orzel mumbled, turning her attention back to the many books that surrounded her. Within their pages she'd discovered so many new words that lacked Szafirian counterparts, and with those new words came so many new ideas. Ideas that frightened, beguiled, stupefied, and enthralled her in fascinating new ways. Most of all, with these new found ideas came yet another growing sense of anxiety. The more she learned of 'Liberty' and 'Freedom', the less she found herself agreeing with the teachings of her motherland. She'd already lost sight of her Mother's faith, now she was losing sight in her Father's country. She could hardly recognize herself through the intoxicating haze of forbidden knowledge, and through that fog a single terrifying question suddenly made itself known. "Am I a dissident...?"

"It is certainly possible, but is that so wrong?" The suddenness and softness of Luna's voice startled Orzel, and the girl quickly turned in her seat to face the Princess approaching from her left. So caught up in her own thoughts had she been that she neglected to notice the tell tale thud of the heavy doors. The look on Luna's face was a mix of modest annoyance and genuine concern, an expression Orzel was seeing more and more of in the time following their first family dinner. "Forgive me for startling you, dear. You failed to arrive for our enchanting lesson, I grew... Concerned." Orzel quietly nodded in silent sheepish apology. "Now I see the reason..."

"I simply lost track of time." Orzel explained, glancing at the book and then at the floor. Luna hummed quietly, her palms glowing faintly as she levitated a chair from a nearby table. The chair settled in front of Orzel, at which point Luna took a seat and placed her palms in her lap. The annoyance was now departed, yet Luna retained that familiar look of concern in her eyes, the one that told Orzel she likely wouldn't be free to return to her reading until the two of them 'talked'. How she cherished and despised that look... It often preceded some period of sadness and grief on Orzel's part in the immediate moment, yet once all was done, she knew giving voice to her emotions would lend itself to a better mental fortitude overall.

"Come now, you would have me believe you just 'lost track of time' when we are to begin our first lesson in enchanting? I recall a great deal of excitement on your part that says otherwise." Luna's tone was skeptical, and with a slight flourish she levitated the book Orzel was reading towards her, where upon she examined the cover. "So this is what consumes you..." A faint glimmer of recognition flashed over the woman's face, mixed with a sort of melancholy, the source of which Orzel could not rightly discern. "I am quite familiar with 'For The Republic'. In fact, your taste in literature is almost uncanny." Luna hummed softly, flipping through the pages until reaching the end. "This book was one of my favorites, I believe this is my first addition... Autographed by the author, a dear friend of mine, as it so happens."

Orzel gulped and looked at the floor, once again unable to meet Luna's gaze. The girl couldn't possibly have known it to be such a personally important piece of literature, yet she felt guilty for laying hands upon the pages all the same. Luna, as was typical of her quietly compassionate demeanor, seemed unfazed by her daughter's handling of such an old and precious text. If anything, the look Orzel could best describe her adoptive mother as displaying was one of unequivocal intrigue.

"So you are reading a book that questions the very foundations of government, faith, and Equestrian morality in general... 'For The Republic' is not a title I would recommend 'speed reading'." The Princess quietly set the book back in her lap, her wings twitching subtly, her eyes looking over Orzel with distinctly concentrated curiosity. There wasn't a hint of anger, not a smidgen of malice, only that ever growing motherly concern that Orzel was gradually coming to trust. "If I might ask, what are your conclusions so far?"

"It is... Difficult for me to say. That book could never be published in the Empire..." Orzel responded, leaning back in her seat and attempting to relax herself. Luna remained unfazed by the revelation, and so the girl cleared her throat. "I find its portrayal of the Monarchy to be rather one dimensional, the King is a glutton that seems more concerned with himself than his country. A ruler should be fair, but firm... The people should be his first priority. Ultimately he's forcing Hearth Fire to prepare for the fight against the Eastern Menace herself. Essentially requiring her to go off and form what amounts to her own country. At the same time, Hearth Fire's 'Allied Council' is interesting... Representatives from all involved parties. It seems a fine idea on paper..." The girl shook her head, looking at the book with brow furrowed. "Then it is consumed by infighting to a point where it too appears doomed to fail to act in the face of the threat to the East."

"My conclusions therefore are as follows..." Orzel continued, looking at Luna and seeing the older Princess appeared pleased. "No system is perfect, but an ineffectual government is as bad as an incompetent or self-serving one. If a ruler wants something done correctly, generally she must do so herself... If she must delegate, then it should be to someone that is not only competent, but also shares her commitment to the cause." Luna nodded, then gestured for her to continue, which helped restore Orzel's flagging confidence.

"Most of all, a ruler cannot lead without the permission of the people. Nor can they rely on a higher power to solve their problems, no matter how much they wish to believe it exists. Worldly problems require worldly solutions..." Orzel once again trailed off, looking at the floor with a distant glimmer of fear. Once again, it seemed Luna could read her like an open book. The teen wanted to just ignore her fears again, to shove them aside and move on without confronting that dark realization, but it was doubtful Luna would relent until she knew the truth. "When you told me that my ancestors might have come from this place... This Realm..." Orzel shook her head. "In the Empire, it was said to be the realm of the Goddess of War. The place all heroes come to spend eternity. Yet I have not seen Vindicta, nor have I seen the spirits of my Family... I was never much of a believer, it has nonetheless been difficult to confront."

"My poor child..." Luna said with sudden realization. "I never intended to cause you such inner turmoil." Orzel lowered her head, looking off to the side with obvious melancholy. The Princess scooted closer on her seat, taking Orzel's hand into her own and gently squeezing it. "When I lost my own parents, I had similar doubts regarding the Gods that I had to confront..." The woman sighed quietly, looking Orzel in the eyes as best she could. "This world is just as mysterious and unknowable as your old one, who is to say with any certainty that what we see is all there is?"

"That is what I have been coming to believe as time passes, but... It is difficult to rectify with what I was told to believe, what my Mother believed." Orzel nodded, hesitating for a moment. "The story makes similar allusions, that no one can truly be certain... If this is so, then why must I worry about it so much?" The girl took a shuddering breath, suddenly overcome by her emotions. "I am afraid that this world is all there is, and if that is so... Then my Mother, Father, and anyone I ever knew in Cesarski are truly gone forever."

"Even if it is true that this is the only world, which I personally do not believe, those you care about are not gone." Luna countered, gently tapping Orzel's heart while giving a reassuring smile. "You keep them alive in your heart, in your memories. We are more than mere beings of flesh and blood, Daughter. We have impact on those we are close to, we are remembered by those that loved us, and those whom we loved." Orzel exhaled slowly, eyes falling pensively upon the floor. "As I have said, I do not believe that death is the complete and total end... I have born witness countless times to the Realm of Dreams, I have interacted with it, molded it like clay, so that visions of my wildest imagination might appear. If one such strange and magical realm exists, then surely there must be others."

"I suppose you are right..." Orzel nodded, biting her lower lip as she ruminated on Luna's words. The 'Realm of Dreams' was yet another strange reality of Equestria, a place where all the dreams of the world were made manifest. From what she'd read, Princess Luna was the warden of this bizarre plane of existence, and if that was so then perhaps there was a 'Realm of Souls', overseen by some as yet unseen warden. That small amount of hope seemed enough to set Orzel's worries at ease, at least for the moment. It did little to curtail her other rampant fears, much as she wished that was the case. "Would you care to hear more of my conclusions?"

"Only if you are comfortable." Luna responded, leaning back in her chair and folding her hands into her lap. "I would say so far your conclusions are intriguing..." Orzel smiled weakly, resting her own hands into her lap while her eyes occasionally moved between the book and the Princess before her. With her confidence gradually returning, the teen cleared her throat to once again speak.

"Love as depicted in this story is..." Orzel began again, then stopped to look at the floor. "It is confusing." Luna raised an eyebrow, appearing genuinely surprised. Orzel sighed, looking over the tome and recalling the various portions where Hearth Fire and her partner interacted... Kept apart by the rising danger, only ever catching fleeting glances, not once allowed time to speak alone. From what she'd been told growing up, it should have disgusted Orzel, it would certainly have enraged her Parents... Yet Orzel wasn't disgusted, despite all she'd heard throughout her life demanding the contrary. That spurred on a growing sense of guilt and shame, raising the question once again. Was she becoming a dissident? A traitor? Was she a degenerate? "It should not be so, and yet, here I find myself hoping for it to succeed..."

"Why should it not be so?" Asked Luna in a soft tone, sitting up straighter and taking on a more worried look. Orzel stared at Luna, then back at the book, an unfamiliar ache beginning to take hold in her chest. She took a deep breath, tried to gather her thoughts, and let her eyes drift to the floor. Desperately she wanted to force herself to be 'Normal' again, to hide her feelings, to encase herself in the armor of books... But Luna would not relent, an aspect Orzel would've admired in any other circumstance. Now, sitting under the Princess's questioning stare, the girl knew she had no choice but to speak.

"Because... Where I come from, to be like... That. It is illegal, an act that is punishable by death." The girl finally admitted, unable to meet Luna's gaze once more. A creeping sense of unease crawled across her back, flooding her mind with the furious voices of her parents. How infuriated they would be, to hear her say she wasn't appalled. No matter how hard she tried to force the thoughts away, they just wouldn't leave her alone. The genie was escaping the bottle, and there wasn't anything she could do to stop it. "Mother and Father were adamant about such things. They said that to be that way undermined the Empire, because there would be no children to serve the state from such a marriage. That is why I am confused... I want them to succeed, but..."

"I see..." Luna hummed as she leaned back in her seat. "But Equestria is not the Empire, correct?" Orzel nodded her head, doing her best to calm herself as she closed her eyes and braced for the coming rant. No tirade about the 'undermining' of civilization came, nor a baleful rage about her tampering with knowledge she should not have seen. Orzel cautiously opened her eyes, finding that Luna appeared to have lost any pretense of cold command. She took Orzel's hand gently, looking into her eyes and speaking with compassionate conviction. "Such things are not illegal in Equestria, they are embraced just as anything else. Here, those who are 'that way' have nothing to be ashamed of..."

"Really?" Orzel asked, stunned, Luna wordlessly nodded. The swirling maelstrom of anxiety and guilt abated, though only temporarily, as before. Once again, the Princess demonstrated just how different Equestria was from the Empire... With that, Orzel calmed herself.

"This book covers heavy topics, especially so for someone your age... I believe it would be wise for you to finish this story, Orzel... To see how it ends." Luna added, rising from her seat and levitating the book into the girl's lap. "We will postpone our lesson until you have finished, I doubt it will take you long. Should you have any further questions, you need not hesitate to ask..." Orzel nodded hesitantly, looking at the book with trepidation. "I shall have breakfast sent up post haste... Do try to eat something, please." The girl opened the book to her last page, looking between Luna and the tome as the Princess made her way to the door. With less uncertainty than before, Orzel adjusted her glasses and returned to the realm of her imagination...

The throne room seldom found itself quite so empty, with even the guards having been dismissed from the cavernous chamber. Princess Luna paced before her sister, mind racing with thoughts, ideas that may as well have been traveling faster than the speed of light. Princess Celestia meanwhile sat upon her throne, evidently unperturbed as her sister repeatedly retraced her steps, the very visage of unceasing worry. How could she be anything but worried, given the nature of the conversation she'd just had with her daughter? Moreover, how could Celestia remain so calm? Why did Celestia's calmness make her angry? All of these questions and more were just the tip of the iceberg

The entire exchange was looping over and over again in her head, contributing to a growing sense of anxiety that now threatened to boil over. The trials of motherhood were by comparison a virtual cake walk up to that point, and only now did the Mistress of Dreams truly realize the enormity of her own responsibilities. It was fairly obvious from early on that Orzel's homeland was considerably lagging behind Equestria technologically, that gap in education was easily remedied between Orzel's thirst for reading and an equal abundance of books.

The Empire's societal evolution, however, was clearly less advanced than previously thought. Though there was really little question of this fact both with Orzel's explanation of the 'Castes' and a brief primer on something called the 'Ministerstwo Bezpieczeństwa Wewnętrznego', or 'Ministry of Internal Security' in Equestrian. Still, the gulf of ideological differences between the Empire and Equestria was only just becoming truly apparent. Equestria never had a caste system or anything approximating the MIS, which Orzel tended to describe as the ruthless enforcement arm of the extremely militaristic, autocratic, mono-party state, though not in so many words.

The nation itself was built around a fanatical devotion to the Emperor, who's various ministers and other 'political officers' espoused 'unity' and 'solidarity'. They would further claim that all citizens of the Empire were 'Comrades' who needed to work together in glorious labor, all for the continued 'Glory of the State'. Those that dissented, or who could not serve the state, were seen as the enemy, and therefore beneath contempt. Depending on the infraction, these MIS-termed 'defectives' would be sent off for 're-education', arrested and made an example of via public execution, or hunted down by MIS 'Enforcement Squads' to meet an unknown but likely grisly fate...

The Vindictan Church likewise existed to ingrain the Empire's ideals in proverbial stone, legitimizing it's brutal practices as the divine decree of heaven itself. Any measures taken for the greater glory and survival of the State were justified, and citizens were encouraged to 'keep their fellows honest' as a matter of faith. Growing up in that environment and then transferring to Equestria would, understandably, take a good deal of work to overcome...

Add to the mix that Orzel was at an age where she would start to ask a great number of questions about herself and her place in the world, and it was enough to drive Luna to the brink of screaming. Indeed, if what they'd discussed in the library was any indication, Orzel was already starting to ask those questions.

Rather than let her worry fester until she exploded, possibly alerting Orzel and by extension giving her daughter the wrong impression, Luna wound up doing what she thought the most responsible thing. She'd come before the wisest person she knew. In a way, Luna was glad that it was her that would have the chance to guide Orzel at this age, and not her birth parents... At least, if what the Princess suspected about her adoptive daughter was true. That in turn made Luna feel all the more guilty, she wasn't pleased at the death of Orzel's family by any stretch, yet at the same time...

"Be careful with your pacing, Luna. I've just had the floors waxed..." Celestia mumbled whilst Luna rounded from another bout of steps, her elder sister's nonplussed words interrupting Luna's last train of thought. "So, tell me from the beginning, what happened...?"

Luna did precisely that, not once stopping in her bid to wear a rut into the floor. Celestia remained seated upon the plush supportive cushions of the Solar Throne for the entire time, intently listening to Luna as she recounted what happened in the library, only speaking to ask for the occasional clarification. Then she went almost completely silent, letting Luna wander back and forth without the slightest interference. The younger Princess's wings twitched with irritation, it seemed to her that Celestia wasn't taking things as seriously she would've liked.

"You are going to give yourself a migraine if you keep at it like this. I've tried letting you tire yourself out, but... Just take a deep breath through the nose." Celestia suddenly chided. Luna stopped, then inhaled as instructed. "And exhale through the mouth..." Once again, Luna followed her sister's lead. "Better...?"

"No." Luna muttered, her wings flattening against her back. "I may very well have inadvertently said something back there that could permanently damage Orzel's mental health more than it already is! How can you expect me to be calm!?" Luna returned to her pacing, bringing a hand to her chin and shaking her head. "She is questioning her faith, a difficult topic in its own right, but made all the more challenging by her upbringing. She has been raised to think that same sex couples are traitors, and I can see how conflicted that makes her feel! I tried explaining it is nothing to be ashamed of, but what if she does not believe me?"

"You forget that I've raised a teenager before, a particularly angsty one at that." Celestia stated with a bit of mirth, likely to try and lightening the mood. Luna, unfortunately, was in too frantic a state to appreciate that immediately. "While I admit Orzel's situation is a tad different, things could be a lot worse." Luna stopped pacing, taking a few more deep breaths before walking to the Obsidian Throne and sitting beside her sister. The cold volcanic glass embraced her, its black leather cushions contouring to ease the stress on Luna's joints. "From what I've read on the subject, and my own personal observations, she's at an age where she probably has a vague sense of herself. Even if she doesn't fully realize it yet, as she grows up it'll be more obvious. What's vital is that we show her we love and accept her, no matter where she stands."

"I was attempting to do precisely that..." Luna muttered with a sigh, rubbing at her temples. "Her parents undoubtedly loved her, but they were products of their environment, and she is smart enough to realize what that implies... If Orzel is different, I do not want her to end up thinking there is something wrong with her, or that her own parents would shun her were they still alive..." The woman added in frustration, staring at the distant door on the other side of the throne room. She could recall the night she'd been seated right in that very spot, thinking about making a nightly meal before heading off to watch over the world the dreams, only to have her life change so dramatically in a matter of minutes. "Of course, we do not know for certain whether that is the case or not. This is the first time I have spoken to her about this, but the look I saw in her eyes when she it said was a capital offense to think that way...?" She shook her head. "How could someone say that to a child?"

"She comes from a world far harsher than our own, Luna..." Celestia said with a bit more seriousness. "What she said, about people needing to have children so they could 'serve the state'..." The Princess sighed, slouching in her chair and looking to one of the nearby windows. "It seems to me the 'Szafirian Empire' was a highly regimented society, with strict social codes, and even stricture punishments for breaking those codes. Those that couldn't or 'wouldn't' contribute would be seen as a drain on resources. I'm not saying it's right, Luna, but it is important to understand the reasoning behind such beliefs if we are to counter their effects."

"I know..." Luna admitted quietly, rubbing her forehead and closing her eyes. She hated to admit it, but Celestia was right, she could feel a migraine coming on. "I would not be so utterly frustrated were these the only issues I am concerned over." The woman leaned her head back, keeping her eyes closed as she tried to calm the throbbing in her head. There were numerous other issues on her mind, many of which pertained to Orzel. "There is talk among my contacts within the National Council... The Noble Party may demand Orzel attend a hearing to determine her precise origins, among other things. I fear this is only so they may spite me, by inflicting more trauma upon my daughter..."

"Were I certain their motives were entirely in the interest of the people, I would be inclined to agree with the Noble Party... They have a right to know more about who may lead them one day." Celestia started, trailing off with a shake of her head. "That being said... I wish I could say I didn't believe you were right about them purposefully seeking to hurt you through Orzel... Or that they would stoop so low as to harm a child's mental health at all." The woman sighed with annoyance, slouching in her throne and gently clenching and unclenching a fist. This struck Luna as odd, typically her sister was far better at hiding her anger. As if to answer the unspoken question, the Princess continued. "Blueblood told me of a plot to bar her from the throne." Luna arched an angry eyebrow, there was no feasible way for the National Council to overrule a member of the Crown's chosen successor, only other members of the Crown could do so. "Not officially, mind you, but by refusing to vote on any further laws until she is replaced."

"They intend to do what...?" Luna stated with a coldness even she hadn't expected, all the previous anxiety had coalesced into a sudden and frigid fury. She was quite used to being infuriated by Nobles, but this anger felt... Different. She couldn't detach herself as she typically did, there was no feasible way for her to compartmentalize the new found sense of outrage that flooded over her. "This is beyond the pale, Celestia! They would hold Equestria's government hostage and refute Our right as Princess to name Our own successor!? It is an outrage! It is treason!" Before Luna could launch into a tirade, however, Celestia leaned forward in her seat to meet her sister's eyes.

"Sister... If you allow your anger to subside for a moment, you will see that this plays to our advantage." Celestia explained coolly, Luna forced herself to close her eyes and take several deep breaths. It wasn't easy, but as she took a minute to set her mind at ease, the truth of Celestia's words emerged. "I have obtained signed statements from a half dozen witnesses sympathetic to our cause, including Blueblood." The Princess added, further quelling the anger in Luna's heart.

As Princess of the Night, Luna was used to dealing with matters of law and order, as many of her petitioners were seeking legal remedies or some form of arbitration. To willfully act in a manner that interfered with the peaceful transfer of the throne was a good way for a Councilor to quickly end their career, both in the eyes of the public and the eyes of the law. The Noble Party was able to pull countless stunts in the past to get around laws intended to keep their power in check, but none quite so brazen... Oddly, it was Prince Blueblood of all people to bring it to Celestia's attention, though Luna supposed even Blueblood had limits as to just what he would and wouldn't do in the great game of politics.

"There will be no hearing. If they aim to harm my daughter to get to me, I shall not hesitate to go for their throats. Ensure they know that." Luna stated bluntly, reclining as much as she could in the Obsidian Throne, stewing in frozen silent ire. "Such cowardice, such unmitigated dishonor..." The woman shook her head, drumming her fingers on the arm of the throne. "I fear it shall taint Orzel's view of our government in ways we cannot hope to counter... Perhaps it was unwise of me to have her continue reading, 'For The Republic' does not paint the 'Allied Council' in the best light at its conclusion."

"Forbid a person from knowledge and they'll go out of their way to learn, wondering what warrants its censure in the first place, especially considering the state of censorship in the Empire." Celestia shook her head, her palm glowing faintly as a cup of tea appeared with a flash of golden light. "She may surprise you... After all, you are still a strong supporter of a republic, correct?" Luna sighed, nodding in agreement while Celestia took a sip from her cup. Celestia was have correct, Luna did like the idea of a republic, in theory... In practice, well... She needed only to look to the National Council to dash any hopes she had of one day establishing such a state. Better Equestria remain a monarchy, with a strong, but fair, leader at its helm. "Hopefully she won't stumble onto Statesman's later works, like 'Empire' or 'Rogue State', until she's a bit older... As much as I loved his work, his dim, cynical view of politics could be rather... Slanted."

"Slanted by your modern standards, perhaps. For all the failings of the National Council, they cannot compare to the unequivocal nightmare that was our first 'Tribal Council'." Luna responded with a slight hint of sadness, sighing as she recalled the author known as 'Statesman'. That was his pen name, at least. The only name much of the world knew him by... In actuality, his real name was Observos the Watchful, once a student of Starswirl the Bearded. He was a sweet boy from the Spell-Caster Tribe, someone whom at one point meant a great deal to Luna, and in a way... He still did. She hadn't thought of him in some time, and hearing tell of his various written works stirred that ancient longing back to life. "You would not think him so cynical if you knew him as I did, Sister..."

"Regardless, in the hands of a young mind, without proper context... His later works could be troublesome." Celestia stated diplomatically, taking another sip from her cup. If only she knew just how true her statement actually was, as the story 'Rogue State' followed a tale of a heroine much as Luna fancied herself during the Nightmare War. Someone that did what was necessary to break up a corrupt government, knowing full well she'd be painted as a villain in her own time, only to be vindicated by history... Of course, reality hadn't transpired nearly as well as within the novel. "I can't tell you how many times Twilight Sparkle has gotten her nose into a book about magic she wasn't quite ready for... I think it's why she's so anxious all the time."

Luna faintly chuckled, but her mind remained on Observos... Orzel's earlier talk of 'forbidden love' and the conflict it brought was unearthing memories and feelings long buried beneath the sands of time. Luna's thoughts were awash with a wellspring of a simpler time, a time when the world seemed so innocent and quaint. Warm summer nights spent beneath the stars, listening intently while her ever anxious suitor recited writ and verse. All the joy was made bitter by the memory of the day Luna's faithful scribe attempted a new form of magic in a bid to prove himself worthy of her affection... Not to her, but to the world. What followed was Luna's fault as much as it was his own, if only she hadn't given him insight into the machinations of Dream Magic... It was a field far too complicated, even for a mage of Observos' talent, to safely graft into other spells without extensive preparation.

"Forgive me, Celestia... I find it difficult to remain focused at the moment." Luna shook her head free of the wretched memory, wiping at her eyes which were now noticeably damp. Looking at her sister, Luna could see all too well the concern that creeping in. "I have not thought of Observos in centuries... I was not ready for certain emotions to resurface." Luna rose from her throne, adjusting the fabric of her gown and straightening her posture. "I must make ready for Orzel's afternoon lesson... Thank you for your counsel, Sister."

"Luna..." Celestia began, but the younger sister leveled a hand to signal that there was no more to be discussed. Luna's features hardened, she took a long deep breath through her nose, then exhaled and began her descent of the steps.

It was best that she not speak her mind to Celestia, lest she say something she would come to regret. Observos was one of the many reasons Luna became Nightmare Moon, though not by his own doing. Celestia was ultimately forced by the ancient tribal leaders to forbid Luna from seeing, and by extension courting, Observos, as it was feared a Princess marrying a member of the Spell-Caster Tribe would give that tribe an unfair advantage politically. The reasoning was admittedly solid, at the time Equestria was unified for less than a quarter century. Even so, Celestia easily could've stood up for Luna's happiness, she could've taken a stand for her sister... Just one time, would that have been too much to ask?

As Luna made her way through the throne room, she had to remind herself not to linger on the feeling of betrayal. Luna knew those involved were all long dead, save Celestia and herself, and Celestia wouldn't make that same sacrifice twice... Would she? Best to let the past remain in the past, especially as there were plenty of things that needed doing in the present. Orzel's first foray into enchanting, something it was believed she'd have an innate gift for, would likely require all of Luna's attention if she were to properly teach her daughter. Whether she was or wasn't capable of magic mattered little to Luna, so long as her daughter was happy. Hopefully, her lesson would open yet another field for Orzel to study, one where she would be free to create all sorts of wondrous items and effects. Enchanting was a field where art and intellect mingled to do wondrous things, and it was one that Luna hoped Orzel could use to find a healthy outlet...

At one time a well traveled portion of the Castle, the great 'Enchantatarium' was quite considerable in its size, even by modern standards. The subterranean chamber was the sight of many discoveries in the field of enchanting, first built by Celestia to study and better understand the Elements of Harmony. Buried beneath the Castle Gardens, illuminated by a small darkly tinted skylight through which dim sunlight streamed inwards, few but the Castle Staff knew of its continued existence. The domed cavern was at least a hundred feet in diameter, and a quarter of that in height. Where much of the castle was constructed with marble and gold, the Enchantatarium was instead widely built from basalt, its walls inset with decorative nodules of polished obsidian and moonstone.

It was unfortunate, at least in Orzel's view, that such a hallowed place of knowledge would fall into disuse. The so called 'scholars' of the past so closed-mindedly viewed field of enchanting was seen as overly 'restrictive', while at the same time suffering the false delusions that it had fewer 'practical' applications than 'Active magic'. Over time, those mages seeking to use the Enchantatarium gradually dwindled, and so the once respected alcove found itself all but abandoned to a fate of little more than another storage closet. Recently the chamber found itself cleared of unnecessary junk, at the behest of Princess Luna, to see that it was restored in part to its former glory.

Besides the main entrance by way of an underground tunnel from the Castle, a second heavy wooden door resided at the opposite side of the room, though where it led was unknown to Orzel. At the center of the chamber, situated directly beneath the skylight, a great stone table resolutely occupied a vast amount of space. The blackish-blue surface was painstakingly polished to a mirror finish, inset with milky white lines of an as yet unknown material. They gracefully formed runic symbols which glowed faintly in the gloom, emanating with pure arcane energy. The rounded walls were lined mostly with storage cabinets and drawers, each of which having only recently been restocked in full. Within their aged embrace resided everything from Arcanium and Alicornium powder to rare Lodestar Gems, recovered from the inhospitable Frozen North. All materials were carefully categorized and cataloged for ease of access. After all, a tidy Enchantatarium was a safe Enchantatarium.

With every conceivable piece of equipment at the ready, Orzel could hardly contain her excitement in the lead up to her first lesson. Of course, that excitement was briefly overridden by other things on her mind. The remainder of 'For The Republic' had given her much to think about, but in a way that was actually rather beneficial. Hearth Fire and her partner had finally gotten together, becoming the rulers of a new country founded on the principles of freedom, honor, and honesty. In the face of adversity and doubt, they had stayed the course and weathered the storm. It was only after she'd met Luna in that great chamber that it fully returned. In her own small way, Orzel hoped that taking up the Enchanter's craft might become her means of 'weathering the storm'.

That wasn't the sole reason that brought her and Princess Luna to be seated upon a set of simple wooden stools beside the Enchanting Table, merely the most recent of several. Another reason had to do with an inexplicable, almost primal, urge to take up the craft, and ultimately that was what had her eyes pouring over several textbooks while Luna idly observed in the dim gloom. The textbooks contained the basics of rune scribing, connecting, and fortification, information Orzel already read through three times before on her own.

Luna insisted, however, that Orzel reread the material at least one more time, just to be safe. It was all fairly straight forward, but the girl supposed practice made perfect. First, she would need an item to enchant, typically beginners started with something simple like a piece of silverware or jewelery. Next, she'd need an enchantment... There were several 'beginner' level runes provided in the book. Finally, she would need a medium with which to create the runes, at which point all that would remain would be to give them energy...

"I am finished." Orzel finally declared, closing the last of the books and looking expectantly at Luna. The Princess hummed with satisfaction, levitating the books with her glowing palm and setting them upon the rough stone floor, each stone of which took on roughly hexagonal pattern. Snapping her fingers, the Princess produced a small flash of light, allowing a metal spoon to materialize on the table before Orzel. It was simple enough, with no major design embellishments. "Must I use an enchantment from the books? I have read of several others."

"If you feel up to the task, I do not see why not..." Luna said with an uncharacteristic shrug, though this didn't deter Orzel from picking up the spoon and making her way to one of the nearby cupboards. "Pretend I am not even here, I wish to observe how well you perform on your first attempt unaided." The woman added as she watched the teen open a cabinet and grab a small leather pouch, pulled closed and tied shut with a light blue length of twine.

It was Arcanium Powder, if Orzel remembered her Enchanting symbolism correctly, which of course she did. Closing the cabinet, she made her way to another storage drawer and pulled it open. There were dozens of Enchanter styluses stored within, finely carved shards of solid Alicornium crystals that looked like the handles of her model paint brushes. The one she picked up was smooth to the touch and glowed faintly in her hand at the points where her skin came into contact. Smiling at the apparent indication that the stylus was fully intact, Orzel closed the drawer and made her way back to the enchanting table. Sitting down upon her wooden stool, she set her materials out before her and looked to Luna for some sort of direction, but the woman merely stared blankly back at her.

"Right..." Orzel mumbled with a hint of nervousness, undoing the pouch of Arcanium Powder. The immediate area was suddenly bathed in a soft blue glow, the light pouring forth from the open the mouth of the bag. She'd read that Arcanium Powder was luminescent, but she hadn't expected it to be quite so... Beautiful. There seemed to be an ocean of miniaturized glittering stars contained within that simple leather pouch, the tiny particles magnifying and reflecting the dim light by seemingly a hundred fold. Taking hold of the Enchanting stylus, Orzel gently dipped one end into the pouch and brought it towards the metal spoon.

Holding the utensil steady with one hand, Orzel's tongue gradually slid between her lips as she concentrated on scribing the first rune upon the metal. Her selected enchantment came from one of the few cook books she'd found in the Castle Library, oddly enough. It would theoretically cool whatever liquid came in contact with the spoon to the perfect temperature for consumption, essentially eliminating the need to blow on hot soup before hand. Hot soup didn't really bother Orzel to begin with, as recently it seemed she'd built a better tolerance to heat, but that didn't really matter... What mattered was getting the Enchantment right. Meanwhile Luna watched her, not so much as interjecting or offering a word of critique.

At first Orzel thought maybe it was because she was doing so poorly that Luna couldn't hope to help her. Then she thought maybe Luna was saying nothing because, actually, she'd yet to make a mistake. That seemed too arrogant, however, so Orzel discounted it. Overall she couldn't figure out what Luna was thinking, and that was starting to mess with her head. The aspiring enchantress once again tried to focus back at the task at hand, that being making the next rune and connecting it to the first. As the minutes continued on in uneasy silence, Orzel's hand began to shake, resulting in a few errant lines that she feared would ruin the peace. These were easily corrected by rubbing the offending powder from the metal with her thumb, though she only had a few seconds to do so. Thankfully, it seemed she managed to salvage her work.

All in all, it took perhaps an hour and half to finish transcribing the runes. Luna had spent the time silently observing Orzel's work, occasionally clearing her throat but otherwise allowing the teen to work on her own. After the first twenty minutes of silence Orzel's uneasiness began to fade, and at that point her mind began to wander... Once again she thought on the matter of Vindicta and the Old Realm, but this time it didn't scare her as much. Just getting it off of her chest was doing wonders for her sense of calm. Those thoughts that still troubled her became mercifully distant, as her mind was far too focused on creating the proper runes. When all was said and done the finished symbols weren't particularly pretty, nor were they perfect, but they were as close as Orzel could get them from memory.

"Okay..." Orzel said hesitantly, looking at Luna while setting down the stylus. "The runes are done, how am I to infuse them with magic?" Thankfully, the woman was no longer content to leave her daughter in silence. Clearing her throat one final time, Luna took the spoon from Orzel and examined it with a bit more scrutiny. "Did they come out well?"

"We shall have to see." Luna said cryptically, handing the spoon back to Orzel. "Are you certain you are ready?" The girl nodded, looking at the glowing outlines set within the glimmering stone surface. "Place the object at the center of one of the intersections upon the table." Orzel nodded, eagerly placing the spoon on one of the points where several of the milky white lines came together. "Your people channeled magic by speaking, and that is what you shall need to do. The words to be spoken fall to the enchantress. Close your eyes, speak from your heart, and the words should flow freely."

"I will try..." Orzel stated, looking at the unassuming spoon. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and prepared to speak. "Wait!" The girl's eyes snapped open, her hands frantically flying to the pouch of Arcanium Powder, which she quickly tied shut and moved away from the spoon. The stylus likewise was placed a healthy distance away. There was remote a chance the entire pouch could've ignited if they'd been in close proximity when the enchantment was cast. It wouldn't have been enough to cause serious injury, though it would certainly singe some eyebrows.

"Astute observation." Luna smiled with a pleased expression, crossing her arms. Orzel had to wonder just why the woman would let her continue if there was a risk she could've gotten hurt. As if sensing this question, Luna patted Orzel on the shoulder and scooted a little closer, now that the risk of burned eyebrows had been contained. "Mistakes will happen from time to time when learning magic, but that is not always a bad thing. You will often learn twice as much from a mistake than you do a success. For now, I will only interfere if you are at risk of seriously hurting yourself. You are otherwise free to make as many mistakes as necessary, so experiment without fear." The woman gestured to the spoon. "Shall we continue."

"Have I made any other mistakes?" Orzel asked, eying the offending utensil carefully. Once again, Luna gave a noncommittal shrug. Slightly annoyed, the girl picked up the spoon and eyed it carefully, checking and rechecking each rune in careful detail before abruptly setting it down. Much to her annoyance it seemed she'd made another mistake, though it had nothing to do with the runes. Orzel groaned in frustration while face-palming, hit particularly hard by the realization of just how fundamental her screw up actually was. "If the spoon was created with magic, then Arcanium will not bind to it..." Luna hummed in agreement. "I should have used Alicornium... I have just wasted an hour and a half of our lives."

"Did you really?" Luna asked cryptically, snapping her fingers and evaporating the spoon from existence. "In the future, will you commit to a medium without first double checking what the object is made out of?" She asked with honest intrigue, of course Orzel shook her head. "Then I would say this was a valuable learning experience, even if it did not go as you hoped." Once again Luna snapped her fingers, this time prompting a fork to appear before Orzel on the enchanting table. "Would you care to try again, daughter?"

"Yes..." Orzel nodded, picking up the fork and looking it over. "Is this a magically created fork or did you teleport it from the kitchen?" As Orzel half-expected, however, Luna merely shrugged. With that, Orzel quietly turned in her seat and grabbed one of the books from the floor, it seemed there was actually a point to reading them again after all. She had by this point memorized the page numbers, so it took little time to find the proper page. "It says I must use magic to tell..."

"Indeed, you must. Recall what I told you? Close your eyes, speak with your heart." Luna explained, lacing her fingers together. Orzel slid the fork to a set of intersecting lines on the table, gulping and pursing her lips together as she stared at the page again. What Luna had suggested, that she 'speak with her heart', went against everything she'd come to believe about magic... How could someone as smart as Luna be suckered in by the intangible like so many other mages? Then again what choice did the girl have, other than 'speak' as her ancestors had? Here she'd thought of Enchanting as an absolute science, yet even it relied on a concept as amorphous as her 'heart'. Maybe there was some room for the intangible after all... Could it be so simple as to close her eyes and say whatever just popped into her head? "There is no alternative but to try."

Orzel closed her eyes and inhaled deeply through her nose, but no 'words' came to her mind. Maybe too much time had passed between her birth and the departure of her ancestors from the Old Realm, that had to be it... Her ancestors might have had the gift of magic, but certainly not her. Luna may have made her nobility within Equestria, but in the eyes of the Empire she was still of the 'Warrior Caste'. Warriors did not become mages, it simply didn't happen.

"I cannot do it..." She mumbled, opening her eyes and looking dejectedly at the fork. "It is impossible, even here in the Old Realm." The words stung to hear, even as they left her own lips. What was more, she'd likely wasted Luna's time, and a great deal of money preparing the Enchantatarium... Her thoughts spiraled downwards and downwards, any gains made gradually ebbing away as the enormity of her failure overwhelmed her. In a squeaking voice, she quietly managed three words, unable to meet Luna's eyes. "I am sorry."

"Orzel..." Luna said with renewed resolve, her expression becoming more serious while she lifted Orzel's chin to look her directly in the eyes. "Magic is by its very nature a matter of making possible the impossible. If you say it cannot be done, than it will not be done... Push forward, never allow yourself to be defeated. These words apply to life, just as they do magic. This is only your first attempt, do not give up so easily. You have the intellect to become a great Enchantress, if only you give yourself the chance." Luna pointed at the table. "Now, come on. Call upon your instincts, do not let yourself be denied. You are Princess Orzel, you will one day be sovereign! Your ancestors were powerful enchanters, will you be denied that which is your birthright?"

"No... No I will not be denied!" Orzel's voice was more confident now, and she went about setting her jaw and taking another deep breath. Resetting the fork on the intersecting lines, she closed her eyes and summoned whatever will she could muster to make the impossible possible. At first there was nothing, but from that great darkness came an inkling of one word, then another, then just like a river they poured forth. She couldn't make them out, not at first, yet they compelled her to speak. When she opened her mouth a sense of strange tingling washed over her, and in a voice familiar yet foreign to her own ears, the incantation poured forth. "Item before me upon the stone, let me make your secrets known... Be you real or arcane light, your nature will not evade my sight!"

Quickly opening her eyes, Orzel's jaw dropped open in astonishment. There before her, hovering some six inches off the table, was the fork. Slowly it spun in circles, suspended in a faint aura of indigo much like that of Princess Luna's, and yet Orzel knew it was her own. She could 'feel' the fork as it tumbled before her, its cold prongs and smooth surface laden with tiny imperfections, imperfections that would not be present on any spoon conjured from magic. It was a real fork, summoned from the castle's kitchen. Watching from her stool at Orzel's side, Luna sported the largest smile the girl had ever seen, beaming at the teen with a clear glimmer of pride. In spite of all her negative thinking, disregarding her own doubt and dismay, Orzel had done it... She'd actually done it!

"Yes!" Orzel suddenly shouted, tapping the fork and sending it spinning wildly in the aura. "It is a real fork that you summoned from the kitchen! I can use Arcanium powder without worry!" The girl began giggling excitedly, watching the helpless salad impaler continue its unceasing dance within her magic. "Wait... Wait..." The girl narrowed her eyes on the fork, once again the words forced their way into her mind. "Tumbling fork up in the air, move thyself from here to there!" To her growing excitement, the aura carried the fork from the intersection of lines beneath it to a point a few feet away at the center of the table. "Do I have to rhyme every time?"

"Most likely so, at least as you are learning to channel your magic. I would view it as an opportunity to expand your vocabulary even further. The force that controls magic is much like a muscle... The more exact your incantation, the more powerful an enchantment you can create, the more power you can draw upon in the future." Luna explained, patting Orzel on the back. "Exercise it regularly, and it shall become easier with each passing day. Eventually the need to rhyme will go away." She paused. "The Zebricans have a similar means of controlling their potion magic, though I suspect they are functionally quite different." The woman grabbed the pouch of Arcanium Powder and the Enchanter's stylus, then set them out before Orzel. "Now that you have ascertained the object's origins, you are ready to begin again."

"Hear my voice and pay it heed, return to me with modest speed." Orzel stated a bit more confidently, holding out her palm and catching the fork as it hovered quickly towards her. With every new use of her power it seemed easier to control, the words weren't forcing their way in as much, more and more she could chose what she wanted to say.

It was a rush the likes of which Orzel had never felt before, a sensation that she suspected only the few wizards of the Empire could ever know. Just like that, with some coaching and a few choice words, she'd opened herself to yet another field of knowledge... Her birthright... Her's to master, her's to explore as she saw fit. It felt so natural, so right, so... Intoxicatingly powerful. For the first time since her arrival here she actually looked forward to tomorrow, whether that lasted or not remained to be seen, but... She was actually optimistic. Now all that remained was to begin practicing actual enchantments. She eagerly set to work, driven by a hunger for greater knowledge which she doubted would ever truly be sated. She wanted more...

Chapter 6

Every fiber in Orzel's body was tense, her eyes roving over every detail laid out before her. The scent of the Castle Library helped to sooth her somewhat frayed nerves, but it could do little to fully curtail the sense of dread. She'd made a mistake, a very large mistake, and Luna would most assuredly punish her for it. Gazing at the evidence of her failure, laid out before her on the brilliantly polished table, the girl wilted beneath her adoptive Mother's impassive gaze. Each tick of the clock went in time with the beating of her heart, sweat gradually beading on her forehead as nervously she bit her lower lip.

"You should not have done that." Luna stated bluntly, reaching forward across the table to deliver her reckoning. Bracing herself for the crushing blow, Orzel could only watch in muted dismay as Luna manipulated the chessboard set up between them. The White Queen, a beautiful carving of Aunt Celestia crafted from boar tusk, was lifted by Luna's magic and gradually moved across the board. Orzel had unwittingly fallen right into Luna's trap, foolishly taking the woman's rook and leaving herself open for attack. The king in this instance was represented by a Thestral General, carved from black moonstone. Setting the queen down with finality, Luna set her hands in her lap and smiled gently. "Checkmate in five moves."

"I concede..." Orzel groaned, rubbing her temples before setting her King on its side. Her pieces were all out of position to be of much use, by the time she managed to reorient them it would be too late. Adjusting her spectacles, the teen sat back in her chair and crossed her arms. "Pieces on and off the board, the game has ended, become restored." A small aura of blue magic encapsulated the chess pieces, levitating them through the air and setting them in their proper places. "Can I request a rematch?"

"Perhaps in a few hours, after you have completed your lesson with Miss Pirouette." Luna proclaimed with a slight smirk, gently pushing the chessboard aside. Orzel sighed in frustration, rolling her eyes and pushing back her seat. "Come now, Orzel. This is precisely why you must attend her class, your aggressive form cost you both the game and our wager." The teen closed her eyes, taking a moment to steady herself. It had been foolish of her to challenge her Mother to a game like chess, especially considering the woman had thousands of years to master her skill. The prospect of doing so had at the time seemed a better alternative to attending Miss Pirouette's scheduled lesson. "She is not that bad, once you get used to her. Celestia believes she is quite 'chipper'."

"She is too 'chipper' for my liking." Orzel stated flatly, sliding her chair in under the table and adjusting the hem of her navy blue tunic. "Your language is so... Limiting. It is too soft." Luna's smile faded slightly while the girl glanced at the clock on the wall, she had twenty minutes to make the journey from the castle to a little building in downtown Canterlot. She'd first been introduced to Miss Pirouette a few weeks prior in the Castle's Library, but the woman insisted Orzel attend classes in person. That was yet another source of concern for Orzel, as this would mark the first time she left the castle on her own... "You are certain you cannot accompany me?"

"You are more than capable of finding your way there on your own, and my presence would merely hinder you. Consider this an opportunity to become more familiar with the people of Canterlot. Take as much time as you wish to explore, expand your horizons, but only after your lesson." Luna responded, rising from her own seat and gesturing to the clock. "Now go on, we have wasted enough time." Orzel once again sighed, but nodded and started walking towards the library doors. She cast a brief look over her shoulder, watching as Luna quietly surveyed the pieces on the chess board. Pursing her lips, Orzel pushed open the door and slipped out into the hallway beyond, her eyes falling upon the floor.

Through meticulous study and sheer repetition, the girl had committed a good portion of the castle's layout to memory by now, freeing up her time in the halls to think. That free time to think proved to be a double edged sword, as on most days Orzel's mind tended to wander to the less than pleasant thoughts that forever plagued her. Lately she'd been suffering a strange desire to pile all of her books into the center of her room and lay on them, even sleep on them. A brief search of the books in the library revealed this to be normal for 'Drakes', but it nonetheless came as an unwelcome surprise. More often now she was also feeling an elevated level of hostility in the face of some of the 'softer' aspects of Equestrian life. Their overly friendly and talkative nature, how little care they took in their nation's own interests or safety. For some reason it infuriated her, in a very primal sort of way...

The rational part of Orzel's brain cried out that these feelings weren't her own, that they were the results of her draconic heritage, and soon they would pass into irrelevance as she came to better control them. Yet that same rational voice paradoxically justified the anger, precisely because of what Equestria stood for. Freedom, compassion, justice... How could someone not want to protect those things? Why didn't the Equestrians realize the beauty of what they had? It needed to be defended at all costs, yet they dithered about in blissful ignorance of the danger inherent in the world.

To keep her mind from spiraling, Orzel decided to throw herself into learning more enchantments of increasing difficulty. When she wasn't doing that, she was working on her models or tinkering with whatever gizmos she could get her hands on. Engines were her latest fascination, and she'd managed to construct a few crude 'Sterling' engines from old soup cans, a wire coat hanger, and a couple rubber gloves she borrowed from the kitchen. They were all items she had every intention of returning, of course... Eventually. When she didn't need them anymore... Well, more want than need, really...

Orzel briefly glanced to the side, noting a painting of Sir Gallant the Timid. There was an oxymoronic name that exemplified the teen's frustration... Oddly named knights aside, spotting the portrait indicated she needed to take a right at the next hallway intersection. In this portion of the Castle there were no other footsteps but her own, no one to worry about bumping into... No maids, no guards, no gawking tourists. That was for the best. Bumping into people generally meant talking, and Orzel hated having to repeat herself numerous times.

The harshness of her Szafirian accent, or 'Kwarczkie' as it was being referred to less frequently, far overpowered the saccharine sweet syllables of the local tongue. Most people typically just stared at her blankly, though some of the unwitting tourists she'd encountered in portions of the Castle they shouldn't have been resorted to the rather infuriating alternative of speaking to her like some sort of simpleton tribal. She could only imagine what it would be like outside the Castle's protective walls...

Granted, she wouldn't be completely alone. It was already decided she'd be accompanied by two chaperones, Agents Grim and Fable of the Nocturne Agency, a Major and a Captain in the Lunar Marines respectively... They would follow from a distance, only interfering if completely necessary, otherwise letting Orzel experience the city unhindered. Yet another double edged sword. On the one hand she'd be able to look at all the factories and other mechanical marvels she wanted for however long she wanted. On the other hand, in order to see them she'd first need to endure an agonizing two hour lesson on a subject with which she had no discernible interest. Hopefully she wouldn't be obligated to talk to anyone.

Coming to a large abstract painting, one of the newest additions to the Castle's art collection, Orzel took another turn down a far more 'modern' hallway. The painting itself depicted a series of paint splotches, brightly colored hues against a dark background, which was supposedly a 'window into the heart'... Whatever that meant. Abstract art was yet another oxymoron by Orzel's line of thinking, if anything she'd rather hang a technical diagram on the wall than a painting. Perhaps an old blueprint for an old colonial fortification? Something with meticulously straight lines and properly labeled parts, that would be beautiful... Regardless of how she felt about the piece that initially drew her attention, its very presence symbolized a change in the Castle's atmosphere, as now she neared the Grand Foyer.

It was a place where tourists and politicians would undoubtedly be milling about, speaking the overly plush Equestrian language with frustrating fluency. After a while all the words would blend together into a mishmash of gentle consonants and soft vowels, as cheerful, merry, and soft as Equestria itself. The girl sighed once more, the Grand Foyer was also the place she'd likely run into trouble if she wasn't careful. Few people knew what she looked like, but Aunt Celestia's announcement of her existence nonetheless brought eager photographers to the Castle in droves. All were eager to get the first photograph of the new Princess... Hearing the title before her name still felt so strange, even as she gradually came to accept the truth of it. Being called 'Princess' or 'Your Highness' was fine when said in a more formal setting, but would undoubtedly become infinitely more bothersome if used so casually by gawking tourists and eager paparazzi.

Soon enough she heard the telltale clucking she'd gradually come to despise, emanating towards her from the end of the hallway. Taking another turn, Orzel did her best to prepare both mentally and emotionally. The new hallway was lined with Royal Guards, adorned in their traditional ceremonial armor, standing ready to politely direct lost tourists they saw away from the private portions of the castle. What lay beyond was the Grand Foyer, a massively open portion of the castle where the public could freely visit. Decorated in that modern-abstract sort of way, it housed an information desk, some traditional paintings and statues, and even offered a guided tour to other public areas.

Sullenly, Orzel passed the cadre with her eyes set on the bustling crowd ahead. If she was quick enough, she could slip past the sightseers undetected, meet up with Grim and Fable, and start on her short journey to Miss Pirouette's studio. The guards snapped to attention as she passed, something that the teen rather wished they hadn't done. The brief flash of motion unfortunately drew the attention of curious passersby, and soon enough their eyes landed upon Orzel. The guards only ever went to attention for the Princesses, so obviously she had to be one. Some of the onlookers were dressed rather normally, others wore garish hats and shirts emblazoned with slogans like 'I love Canterlot Castle'... Only symbolizing love with a red heart. Why they wore such things was beyond Orzel, personally she found the garments annoying. She was coming to see everything as annoying, lately...

More and more eyes fell upon her, Princess Orzel, right there in the flesh. Several flashes filled her vision, leaving momentary spots in her eyes as camera shutters snapped and clicked like mad. Thankfully, at that moment, two very large and very muscular men in black suits and ties appeared before the crowd could get any closer. A brief jolt of terror ran down Orzel's spine, as their sheer size and sudden appearance reminded her of several 'friendly visits' from Agent Zhelezo of the MIS back home... The fear subsided, however, as she noted they lacked the typical smarmy arrogant smirks and shiny black leather knee boots. She then realized these gargantuan men were, in fact, there to protect her. Where did her two saviors come from? How did they go unseen until the last moment? It didn't really matter, what mattered was that they had arrived just in time to step between her and the crowd.

Agents Grim and Fable, identical twin brothers, were both easily nine feet tall, with arms like tree trunks and bodies that bore the bulk of refrigerators. Orzel hardly came up to their waists, and she had no doubt that if properly provoked either of them could easily lift one of the approaching photographers off the floor with only a single hand. Despite their prodigious mass, somehow both of them could seemingly vanish into, or materialize out of, thin air... Moreover, it never seemed to catch anyone else by surprise, they were just there one moment and gone the next with only Orzel seeming to realize their sudden arrival. Orzel suspected it was something to do with the mirrored sunglasses they wore, as she'd noted a few faint runic inscriptions in the brief moments she'd actually been close enough to see them.

"The Princess will not be taking any questions or photographs. Stand aside." Grim's voice boomed with all the terrible thunder of a full broadside salute, the deep baritone resoundingly echoed through the cavernous Foyer. It was evident from his tone and posture that his words were not a request. Whether they were heeding his warning or simply too stunned by the volume mattered little, either way the crowd stood aside and allowed the two walking mountains to escort their charge towards the Castle's main entrance. Looking up at them, Orzel couldn't help feeling very small... That wasn't unusual, given her rather limited stature of just about five feet. Both men were apparently Thestrals, though they lacked the familiar leathery wings, their immense size and strength more than made up for it. "I apologize for our tardiness, Princess. We would've joined you sooner, but we'd expected you'd take the rear exit."

"There is rear exit?" Orzel asked, slipping into Equestrian as the two men lead her through the front door. "Have not seen on map." The teen shook her head, smiling faintly as she stepped outside onto the castle grounds. Despite the immense size of her escorts, it seemed no one noticed her now... Once again her eyes drifted up to the mirrored sunglasses, sure enough she could see a few more runes. "In-ter-es-ting..." She mumbled, fumbling frustratedly through the pronunciation. "No need apolo-gize, is fine, you quick eh-nough."

"We can show you the secret entrance on our way back, your highness. If you want, that is." Fable offered, his voice sounding distinctly more tremulous than his brother's, just one of the ways she'd come to recognize him. Telling them apart was rather difficult at first, but Orzel did note a few subtle differences aside from their voices. For example, Grim carried himself with a slight limp, the result of some nondescript 'training mishap' that he refused to go into greater detail about. Fable, meanwhile, had several nasty looking scars on the backs of his hands that seemed to stretch up his arms, hidden by the sleeves of his suit, the result of another 'training mishap'. Generally, however, getting the two stone faced colossi to speak more than two words was rare... Today was different, on account of Orzel's unprecedented 'exploration opportunity'."It's not that far from the tunnel to the Enchantatarium, actually."

"Sounds... Axe-ehp-stable?" Orzel half asked, inwardly berating herself for so terribly mangling a simple word like 'acceptable'. Rather than stare at her blankly or ask her to repeat herself, the two Nocturne Agents continued on as if she hadn't slipped up. The girl smiled a little more genuinely, her eyes returning to the finely carved stone steps ahead. Despite only having met them a few weeks prior, Orzel rapidly came to trust the enigmatic Agents... Like Cousin Blueblood, they reminded her a lot of her own father, though perhaps less... Severe. Father wouldn't have been pleased by her leaving home more or less alone, even for a short while. He wouldn't have been pleased by a lot of things Orzel was doing lately, now that she thought about it... "Why not show now? We just skip fool-ish stu-dee-oh trip, yes?"

"You know why." Grim chided, crossing his arms as the trio made their way through the crowded front courtyard towards the main gate. It was warmer than usual, as if the waning summer was having its final hurrah before giving way to autumn and far less stifling temperatures, with clouds few and far apart in the sky above. An almost imperceptible breeze caused clusters of stately paper birch trees swayed lazily, the rustle of their leaves like the distant applause of a symphony house. The sound was muddled by the chatter of so many idle wanderers and tour groups, as well as the distant bustle of the Canterlot metropolis. "Don't worry, you aren't the only one that has to take Miss Pirouette's class. There'll be plenty of other kids there."

"I know, why you think I wahn-ting to be staying here?" Orzel countered, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes, once again unable to curtail her hostility. "I not even want to be going to 'Gala'..." That was the most annoying part of her predicament, attending classes to learn how to properly dance at a social function she had no desire to attend. The class was therefore a waste of her time, time she could've spent learning more about enchanting, or listening to her records, or expanding her vocabulary, and by extension her precious collection of books. Especially given that the 'Gala' in question was now months away, give or take a few weeks. "I wish Aunt Chalyista just can-sell ent-tire thing. Is stu-pid..."

"Won't get an argument from me, Princess." Grim stated with a dry chuckle, though her own comment prompted Orzel to suddenly check over her shoulder out of reflex... For the second time that day, she'd feared the far away boogeymen from the Ministry of Internal Security. In Cesarski, such statements against the Government, no matter how quietly whispered, would be somehow discovered and made note of. If she were lucky, the comment would be seen as 'youthful indiscretion' and she'd be allowed to go on her merry way without incident. Equestria had no such Ministry, Orzel knew that, but the reflex remained all the same. Then came the brief surge of guilt... Speaking out against the government once again would have made Mother and Father most displeased.

As much as she loved them, Orzel was gradually realizing that they were wrong about a great many things. Now, whenever she thought about them, the guilt joined the horror... So she did her best not to dwell on them too often. Orzel wiped her forehead and looked upwards at the entrance to the palatial courtyard. The wall that surrounded the castle was tall and painted white, broken up by the gatehouse containing a large raised steel portcullis. Guards stood there in more appropriate uniforms, quietly checking people and their belongings before either allowing them to enter or depart. It felt remarkably strange to just... Walk past them. Without so much as a glance from the guards, or the people waiting in line for that matter. Then again, Orzel lived there, it was unlikely she'd be making off with a priceless antique or piece of art.

Passing through the gate was a surreal experience, going from the finely ordered castle walls and being directly deposited into the greater Canterlot metropolis. Stopping abruptly on the edge of the sidewalk, Orzel needed a moment to absorb the significance of that moment. In Cesarski she'd always needed to leave home with Mother or Father accompanying her. Not only were teenaged girls discouraged to travel on their own, but her blindness made going out and about a doubly dubious endeavor. Even with Grim and Fable assigned to escort her, however, something about what she was doing felt different. While initially she'd need to arrive at the dance studio, afterward she'd be free to go anywhere she so chose... Mother or Father wouldn't be there to hurry her along, to keep her from taking in the sights.

Adjusting her glasses, Orzel took a deep breath through her nose, experiencing a myriad of new smells in stunning clarity. The smell of automobile exhaust, fresh asphalt, and... Just a hint of frying onions, wafting from a small silvery cart across the street with a comically large sausage, a 'hot dog' as the Equestrian's called them, painted on its exterior. It wasn't an entirely pleasant smell, granted, but that wasn't the point. It was the smell of commerce and industry, of potential... The smell of progress. All the things that Cesarski was supposedly built upon, yet the shining crown jewel of the Szafirian Empire was but a flickering speck when placed beside Canterlot... Beside Equestria.

The Emperor may have said he stood for things such as development and progress, but Luna and Aunt Celestia had done so much more. There before her very eyes beat the mighty heart of Equestrian industry, the most powerful economy on the planet, capable of producing goods of all kinds on a scale so immense Orzel could scarcely comprehend it. Other countries might try to claim otherwise, but even the closest competitor paled in comparison to Equestria's sheer manufacturing base... For all its unpleasantness, that acrid stench of asphalt and sauteing onions represented some of the best qualities Equestria had to offer. There stretched out before her, housed in towering skyscrapers and thundering factories, the citizens of the nation, her new motherland, hard at work.

People milled about on the grimy city sidewalks, some well dressed, others in little more than t-shirts and trousers. The sidewalks themselves were cracked in some places, repaired in others, all were speckled with black smudges of an origin Orzel did not want to speculate upon. Automobiles puttered along those cobblestone streets not yet paved over, coexisting somehow alongside horse drawn carriages, though with considerably more of the former. A few of the automobiles were parked near the sidewalk, and so that became a place Orzel gradually gravitated towards. Now that she was up close, she found them to be rickety looking contraptions, with small narrow noses that terminated in a flat radiator grill.

Most were painted a sort of satin black, with brass and chrome accents, the most ostentatious of which sat atop the radiator, that being a small statuette of 'Rook' chess piece. From what she'd read about internal combustion engines, that indicated this particular vehicle was built by Rook Automotive. The first automotive company in Equestria to embrace 'mass production'... This vehicle, the Rook 'Model U', was one of the cheapest automobiles on the market... Elegantly simple in its design, it was easy to produce, easy to repair, and affordable to most Equestrian citizens. Hopefully automobiles wouldn't become a passing fad... Though if they did, there would undoubtedly be plenty of spare parts for Orzel to get her hands on.

"I sup-pose there are worse things to be doing.." Orzel said quietly, smiling as she stepped back from the automobile. Her rational mind was starting to assert itself once again, allowing her to relax more readily. While the prospect of attending Miss Pirouette's class still bothered her, it was only an hour or so of her time. Afterwards maybe she'd go visit the Rook Automotive factory, or some of the other interesting buildings she'd occasionally observed through her bedroom window. Turning to face Grim and Fable, Orzel put her hands on her hips. "You are not goings to let-ting me back inside, yes?" Grim and Fable both nodded silently. "Then let us be get-ting this over with..."

Straightening her posture, Orzel started walking down the sidewalk. She had a decent enough idea where she was going, it was more or less a straight shot from the Castle. Finding a crosswalk was easy enough, there was an intersection twenty yards or so from the Castle's front gate. A considerable crowd was gathered there, impatiently awaiting the chance to cross the street. As they usually did, Grim and Fable were able to make their way into the mass of people, once again completely unnoticed. What sort of enchantment could help both of her titanic companions blend in so well? Orzel hadn't the faintest idea. She'd have to see about perhaps acquiring a pair of the enigmatic sunglasses for herself, they'd come in handy any time she wanted to leave the Castle on her own...

A policeman at the center of the intersection was directing each car or carriage by hand, occasionally pausing to shout at drivers he deemed as taking too long. It wasn't a totally efficient system, one that Orzel suspected could be improved with the aid of automation... Maybe something to do with signal flags, or different colored lights? Then again, that left the possibility of a malfunction that would jam up traffic. The girl shook her head, she was allowing her mind to wander once again. Gathered together in that crowd of eager pedestrians, Orzel found that apparent executives and businessmen were standing alongside construction workers without much complaint... Yet another difference between the Empire and Equestria, there seemed to be more and more with each passing day.

After two or three minutes of waiting, the policeman held up his hand to stop more vehicles. With a loud blow from a silvery whistle, he signaled the crowd it was safe to cross. Orzel tucked her hands into her pockets as she walked with the group, and as she did so, Grim and Fable were suddenly nowhere to be seen. The girl expected as much to happen, so she tried not to let it bother her. Luna wanted her to become more accustomed to walking among the Equestrian public, it would be rather hard to do that with her escorts, even if their enchanted glasses made them less noticeable.

The crowd gradually dispersed as she reached the other side of the street, leaving Orzel with a bit more room to look around. She found herself lingering more and more to observe the stores and businesses that lined the streets. While she didn't intend to skip Miss Pirouette's class, being a few minutes late certainly wouldn't be the end of the world. The stores ranged from restaurants to clothing boutiques, including a few shops dedicated to obscure items like imported jewelery... Orzel's stomach grumbled as she observed a few of the gemstones through the front window, and for some reason her mouth began to salivate... A most disconcerting sensation, and its cause entirely unknown to her. She concluded it was likely the result of one of the nearby restaurants, it probably would've been a good idea to eat before leaving the castle.

While Orzel had a few odd bits in her pocket, at present there was hardly any time to shop. It was just a nice feeling to actually see Canterlot first hand, to take time and enjoy the scenery... Urban as that scenery may have been. The world was far larger than her bedroom, and no amount of books about adventure could ever do the real thing justice. The sights, the smells, the sounds, even the feeling of pavement beneath her shoes. Then there were the people just going about their lives, each a protagonist in his or her own story. A man at the bus stop wearing an ill fitting suit, a woman pushing her baby carriage while humming a sweet song. Orzel could only wonder just what their lives might have been like, were they filled with joy or tragedy?

Picking up the pace, Orzel followed the street signs for another two blocks. Finally she came upon a cluster of brick structures, aesthetically no different to those surrounding them. Judging by the signage, one appeared to be a music store, the other a curio shop. The third, and smallest of the group, bore a sign for 'Pirouette's Studio of Cultured Dance'. It was big and brightly colored, there was no way she could miss it, or claim to have missed it. Orzel gingerly made her way up the stone steps and pulled on the handle of the large glass door, only for it to rattle and remain closed. For a split second Orzel allowed herself to hope that the business was actually closed, but a quick glance to a small sign in the window shattered that. Smacking her palm against her face and hoping no one had seen her mistake, she pushed forward and the door swung freely inwards.

Stepping into the dance studio, Orzel's ears were assaulted by the quiet chatter of the class participants. Blinking her eyes to adjust to the darker locale, she let the door close behind her, until she beheld the interior in all its appalling splendor. She knew of countless stories and books, with adjectives and descriptors so numerous and complex that in some cases they boggled her mind. Yet for all of her varying verbiage, only one word sprang to mind as she took in the frightful nightmare that was Miss Pirouette's Studio of Cultured Dance. Saccharine. From the light blue floral wallpaper, to the pink curtains, to the red chairs and couch cushions. All were sickeningly bright and cheery in color, made worse by white doilies on every conceivable flat surface, and even a few of the inconceivable sort. The only things that weren't overtly cloy were the hardwood dance floor at the center of the studio and a large mirror that took up an entire wall.

Standing at the center of the dance floor, addressing her eleven apparent students, was the middle aged woman from which the studio took its name. Miss Pirouette wore a black turtleneck and trousers, her graying blonde hair tied smartly back. The other students, all around Orzel's age or slightly older, were certainly an eclectic group. Some wore polo shirts and khakis, others apparently chose simple t-shirts or blouses and slacks, leaving Orzel feeling rather odd with her choice of tunic and trousers. There were six boys and five girls in total, all of whom went silent and turned to look at her. Orzel suddenly felt very exposed, like she'd just been caught doing something wrong, and it took a great deal of effort not to just bolt out the door.

"Ah, Miss Orzel, you're perfectly punctual!" Miss Pirouette said genially, looking to a clock on the wall. To Orzel's mild annoyance, she had arrived with just seconds to spare. So much for shaving a few minutes off the class. The teen half expected Pirouette to be cross for cutting things so close, but thankfully it seemed Pirouette was the forgiving sort. In what Orzel perceived to be an attempt at welcoming her, Pirouette simply gestured to the group. "We were just about to begin, please join us." Orzel gulped, abruptly feeling very parched, then wordlessly made her way onto the dance floor. She did her best not to seem like she was trying avoid people, sticking to the very fringes of the class, but Miss Pirouette would seemingly have none of it. "Don't be shy, we're all friends here."

Orzel tentatively moved closer to the center, ultimately standing beside a boy that was perhaps a head and a half taller than her. Dressed in a white t-shirt and blue pants of an unknown material... A sort of twill, from the look of things, dyed in indigo. It seemed a common facet of Equestrian fashion, yet Orzel hadn't taken time to learn its name. The boy's auburn hair was short and parted to the right. Taking note of her arrival, the boy cast a rather confident smile at her. Orzel just stared blankly back, contemplating how she should respond, or if she should respond at all. Her gut told her that this boy was attempting to be friendly, her mind told her he was trying to intimidate her in some fashion. Either way she labeled the entire exercise ultimately pointless, so her attention returned to Miss Pirouette and the class at hand.

"Now that we're all here, why don't we go over just what dancing is." Miss Pirouette began, starting to pace at the head of the group. Orzel, for her part, couldn't see more than the woman's forehead due to another tall boy standing in front of her. It was one of the few times she was happy to be short, as it perhaps would keep Pirouette from calling on her if she asked a question. "Dancing is an art form, just as painting or musical composition. It comes from your heart, your soul, your passion..." Orzel struggled not to roll her eyes, the odd Equestrian obsession with overly mushy descriptions pervaded every aspect of life. She admitted there might be some sort of emotional component to magic, though she didn't believe 'heart' had anything to do with it... Sooner or later she'd discover exactly just what the 'emotional' component actually was... For now, she supposed she'd have to deal with 'heart' as it pertained to dancing. "Now, why don't we all tell one another about something we're passionate about? That way we each find something to draw inspiration from."

There was some murmuring from the group, most of it in the affirmative. Over the course of fifteen minutes the other class members opened up about their passions, with half of that time being taken up by a rather long winded boy at the far left of the group. The showcased 'inspiration' ranged from spell casting to baking to business, but nothing that really grabbed Orzel's attention. Despite her efforts to remain invested, gradually she found her mind wandering through a series of idle questions. Did she remember to put away her enchanting supplies? Of course she did... Did she need new phonograph needles? It wouldn't hurt to get more... What were those little things on the end of shoelaces called? She'd need to consult the dictionary... Time seemed to drag on into infinity as she went further down the check list of her own miscellaneous thoughts, at least until she was gently tapped on the shoulder.

"Huh?" She mumbled in Szafirian, rapidly looking for the source of the unsolicited poke. The boy beside her quietly nodded his head towards the front of the class. It seemed Miss Pirouette was listening to the girl beside Orzel, who was going on about how passionate she was for fashion and 'trendsetting'. The girl was just wrapping up her speech, and Orzel soon recognized that it would be up to her to speak next. It was not a comforting thought.

"Very good, Miss Thimble Trim." Pirouette concluded with that sing-song voice of hers, before rising up on the tips of her toes in order to get a better look at Orzel. Orzel in turn blinked owlishly back, pursing her lips as her mind drew a blank on just what to say. Realistically, there was nothing she wanted to say, other than 'None of your business'. She doubted that would go over very well, however. The simple matter was she didn't want to look like a fool, butchering her words in front of a group of people her age, or any age really. "Miss Orzel, what about you, what are you passionate about? You've hardly said a word since you got here."

"You know why." Orzel quietly explained in thickly accented Equestrian, narrowing her eyes and tucking her hands back into her pocket. From Pirouette's insistent gesturing, however, it seemed the message had not been received. "This is stu-pid axe-air-size." Orzel grunted, trying to reduce how badly her accent came out, but in so doing only making it worse. Frustrated at the foolishness of it all, she crossed her arms and looked at the floor.

"No one here is going to judge you." Pirouette insisted, smiling and gesturing to the rest of the class. "Right?" Once again their came the indistinct chattering in the affirmative. Like a gaggle of foul tempered fowl, they all turned to look at her expectantly, several even offering words of encouragement. All eyes were on Orzel, again, and this time neither Grim nor Fable would be present to keep the wolves at bay. With no viable means of dodging the question, at least none that wouldn't result in a stern talking to by Luna, the girl let out an indignant huff.

"I enchant." Orzel muttered, glaring off into space. Maybe if she kept her answers short she could reduce the humiliation, the less she spoke the less anyone would hear her accent. Once again, Pirouette seemed unsatisfied with the answer she'd received. "I read, I make mode-dels." The girl added, yet even that didn't seem enough. "I do not speak good, you know this! What else you wahn-tings me to be say-ying?"

"Well, why are you so interested in those things?" Pirouette asked, gesturing around at the rest of the group. "Everyone else has shared." Orzel was torn between anxiety and frustration, gradually leaning towards the latter. As much as she liked Equestria, some times people just didn't know when to stop talking. What was more, they expected her to be the same way, to just open up and talk incessantly...

"Takings mind off of things that are mak-ings me up-set." Orzel stated pointedly, frowning in a manner she hoped would mimic Princess Luna's own typical expression of displeasure. Pirouette seemed unfazed, and this time Orzel was unable to keep herself from rolling her eyes. Part of her just wanted to storm out and leave it at that, that would certainly be the easiest solution, but there would be hell to pay when she got home. So instead she opted to try a different tactic, one that Orzel had picked up from Cousin Blueblood. When people started to ask tough questions, just ask your own question and change the subject. If that failed, ask them about themselves, then they'd never stop talking. She'd stick to the former for now. "I was of think-king this is dance class, yes? Why we talk-king feel-lings?"

"A fair question, Miss Orzel. You have a point." Pirouette conceded, much to the girl's surprise. Not one to stand on ceremony, the irrepressibly bubbly dance instructor clapped her hands together."Now that I've heard from all of you, I have a good idea as to whom to pair each of you up with. Miss Thimble Trim, you'll be paired with Mister Silver Gavel..." On and on she went, pairing members of the class off, until finally her eyes fell on Orzel and the boy in the red polo shirt. "Mister High Tower, you'll be working with Miss Orzel. Now that that's all settled, we can begin. Spread out a bit so we aren't all on top of one another, take a few minutes to get to know your partner. Then we'll go over proper posture and hand placement."

The class gradually spread out over the dance floor, leaving Orzel and the boy apparently named 'High Tower' more or less where they'd been standing. Still thoroughly annoyed, but not willing to break her word with Luna, Orzel turned to meet High Tower's eyes... Or rather, his chest, once again contributing to her sour mood. Ultimately being forced to look up at him, the girl let out another huff of exasperation. That same confident smile was there on High Tower's face, though what he was so confident about was of little interest or concern to Orzel. Putting her hands on her hips, she waited for him to say something. Meanwhile, the rest of the class was already entering their own conversations, filling the air with more intolerable chatter.

"So, you like enchanting." High Tower stated coolly, at least, Orzel was pretty sure that's what he was trying to do. "I'm pretty into magic myself, my father sits on the board of the Equestrian Education Association." Orzel crossed her arms, unable to stop a growing sense of anger that she couldn't quite place. She wanted to go back to the Castle, to just put all her books into a big pile and lay on top of them... It was a stronger urge than before, and Mister High Tower wasn't helping matters. "That's a pretty accent, is it Prench?"

"Is Szafirian." Orzel corrected, snapping perhaps a bit more than she should have. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and tried to clear her mind of annoyances. It wasn't High Tower's fault she was stuck here in that bizarrely cheerful studio, and it wouldn't do for a Princess to go biting her subjects' heads off at the drop of a hat. With that in mind, she opened her eyes and hoped to appear relaxed. "I am sorry, do not like disk-cuss-sing axe-cent." The girl shook her head, tucking her hands back into the pocket as she wasn't sure what else to do with them. "You men-shun father on Yee-Yee-Aye? What pose-it-shun?" High Tower stared at her with barely concealed befuddlement, she could see the gears turning in his head. "What he do?" The girl stated more succinctly, before he could ask her to repeat herself.

"Oh, uh, he's the vice chairman, specializes in historical studies." High Tower answered non-comittaly, rubbing the back of his neck. "He's the one that's making me come here, pretty old fashioned Noble stuff. What about you?" He gestured to the group of other dancers. "I've met those guys before at a bunch of other functions, but you're new. What do your parents do?"

Orzel stared at him for a few seconds, pursing her lips and frowning as she tried to figure out how best to answer. Should she come clean, let him know that she was Princess Orzel, daughter of Princess Luna and heir to the Obsidian Throne? No... Too formal. Should she tell him her parents were dead? That would just make things awkward. All the more confusing was how Luna fit in to all of her internal debates. Under Szafirian Law, and Equestrian it seemed, Luna was just as much Orzel's mother as her actual biological mother... She certainly cared as much, maybe even more, setting aside the enforced attendance of dance lessons. Orzel's biological mother wouldn't have encouraged her to explore freely, or have insisted that certain feelings she had were perfectly natural... Even if they weren't.

"Father was in Navy... Mother work nights at Castle." Orzel finally settled for a half truth, as lying outright was something she figured would get her into trouble sooner or later. "She is very busy, lots of things to be doing." High Tower just nodded, oblivious to the missing context, flashing that same confident grin once again. He couldn't have known just how deeply his question had rattled her... Her Mother, Sokol, sat atop an unassailable pedestal for all of Orzel's life... Until now.

It ate Orzel up inside, to come to resent the woman that gave birth to her, raised her, and ultimately given up her life for her daughter... Even if it was only mild resentment. There were things Orzel read about recently, stories where parents were supportive and empathetic, like Luna... The more she learned, the more she came to realize that there were certain things she'd longed for all her life. A few kind words, some encouragement, perhaps a pat on the back... Mother and Father never said she could do more than just 'get married' to do her duty to the state, because that simply wasn't what they believed.

Orzel was their child, theirs to command, theirs to marry off once she came of age... They loved her, in their own staunch traditionalist way, but Orzel was now well past that limited view of her own future... With Luna's help. None of this inner turmoil could pierce the implacable mask that Orzel forced to the surface. She'd become rather adept at that, or so she hoped. Once again it seemed that High Tower was none the wiser, as he launched into some spiel about how he had visited the Grand Foyer and seen special 'secret' parts of the castle thanks to his father's connections... If only he knew just how much more there was to see. Before Orzel could speak further, however, Miss Pirouette gave a sharp whistle... Class, it seemed, was about to commence.

Of all the stressful duties laid upon the shoulders of Princess Celestia and Luna, none were quite so serious as the midday 'Threat Assessment Briefing'. It was an entirely necessary portion of the day, but it had the tendency to be filled with long drawn out explanations and fact reading that dulled the mind into apathetic numbness. Typically it was the same briefing every day, with no appreciable risks worth noting, and that made it mercifully short... A few rampaging warlords in Zebrica, an increase in pirate activity, all things that were generally beyond Equestria's current policy to interfere with. That was not the case with today's meeting, it seemed, as it was proving a most atypical kind of briefing. One of actual substance, which as a result garnered both Princesses' full attention.

The Situation Room was darkly lit, the only illumination coming in the form of a film projector that cast flickering black and white images onto a screen at the far end of the rectangular space. It rested atop a solid wooden conference table, which in turn was flanked by a dozen or so Generals and Admirals in high backed leather swivel chairs. Celestia and Luna sat beside one another at the end closest to the screen, observing the images with rapt fascination and growing concern. The air was heavy with tobacco smoke, emanating from smoldering ashtrays and faintly glowing embers near the lips of the majority of the officers present. Most of it, however, came from three distinctly different forms that flanked the table.

Field Marshal Redwood of the Equestrian Army, Field Marshal Arcturus of the Lunar Marine Corps, and Director Aquila of the Nocturne Agency. The three men were unofficially known as 'The Big Three' among the Joint Chiefs and other high ranking brass, as they more often than not had the most to contribute to the briefings, and moreover they could at least tolerate one another. That was something that could not be said for the majority of the Army and the Lunar Corps ,which only recently was transferred back to Luna's direct control, to say nothing of the nigh ancient mistrust that existed between the Army and the ever secretive Nocturne Agency. Princess Celestia rather liked the Big Three's ability to work together, though generally their solutions all seemed to entail force or violence in some form or another... That was to be expected, she reasoned. After all, they were in the military, force was their business.

Redwood was perhaps the eldest of the trio, nearly sixty years old, though he didn't look a day over fifty. Barrel chested and muscular, the top buttons of his uniform shirt struggled to contain his impressive pectorals. His graying black hair was buzzed so short Celestia had to wonder why he didn't just shave it all off, and his striking blue eyes could pierce all but the most resolute of poker faces. She actually rather fancied him, but there were a few aspects that prevented her from seeking his affections. Firstly, he was her immediate subordinate. Secondly, and more importantly, he was married. Thirdly, and equally as important, was that his typical response to matters of crisis was simple and blunt. If it was hostile, then it had to be killed. No 'half measures', as he called them, no compromises, no non-aggression treaties. Just massive retaliation and utter devastation of the enemy...

His Lunar Corps counterpart, Field Marshal Arcturus, was slighter in build and only forty years of age, with hawkish green eyes and the familiar pallor associated with thestrals, a stark contrast the sapphire blue dress uniform that concealed his lanky physique. Two sharp fangs jutted from beneath his upper lip, and his leathery wings were folded neatly against his back. Arcturus was the near polar opposite of Redwood, quiet and calculated, his solutions typically settled on neutralizing the threat as quietly and anonymously as possible. Surgical strikes, covert missions, unofficially sanctioned operations... Those were his stock and trade.

That left Director Aquila, supposedly the youngest of the trio at just thirty two, though he seemed far older. Celestia wasn't sure what to make of him, as much of what he did was mind bogglingly contradictory, seemingly on purpose. He had all the hallmarks and mannerisms of a Thestral, but none of the physical attributes aside from his pasty white skin, that seemed nearly albino against his jet black suit and tie. A pair of darkly tinted spectacles rested presently upon his nose, whether it was day or night, indoors or outside, at all times they disguised his ever prying eyes. More strangely, despite having numerous high security clearances and holding one of the most powerful offices in all the Equestrian Armed Forces, Aquila did not officially exist. No hometown, no school records, not even a birth certificate... All Celestia did know for certain was that at one point he had been deeply involved with the occult, and this she'd only learned by accidentally glimpsing a tattoo on his forearm. His suggestions were often as enigmatic and cryptic as the man himself.

Coughing politely, Celestia's eyes briefly fell upon Aquila, the man responsible for capturing the footage unfolding before their eyes, a joint venture between the Lunar Corps and the Nocturne Agency. The scenery in the film was unnervingly familiar, unmistakably having been created in the Castle gardens. The footage was shaky, likely on account of the camera being carried by hand. To the uninitiated, it would've seemed little more than vacation footage, something to remember the various statues in the gardens by. That innocuous innocence ended when several men in Lunar Corps uniforms entered frame, waving hand held devices over the statues. They were small rectangular things with metal wands hooked up by wires, each with a couple lights on their exterior and a large analogue gauge. Not present in the soundless footage was the distinctly shrill 'tick-tick-tickety-tick' that accompanied their use.

Most of the time, when waved over the statues, the gauge would remain unchanged. That was normal, as those particular statues were just that... Statues. Several times the gauge fluctuated, but remained in the lower section of the scale... Those statues had a far less innocent origin, many of them being criminal wizards too dangerous to be imprisoned by conventional means. Many hailed from an era when Equestria was young and fragile, most having had aims to make the fledgling state into their personal domain, if not for the machinations of the Nocturne Agency... Indeed, that was the only reason the Agency survived following the Nightmare War. Yet even these statues hadn't caused the stirring fear in Celestia's heart. That honor fell to the image currently before them. A towering stony draconequs, the very visage of anarchy itself. Discord, Master of Bedlam, King of Calamity, and undisputed God of Chaos. He was, without a doubt, one of the greatest threats Equestria ever faced.

The gauge maxed out when waved over his statue, and several lights flickered menacingly. The footage itself became grainy and streaked with vertical lines, interspersed with dark spots or white flashes of light that would otherwise have been invisible to the naked eye. The Lunar Marines rapidly retreated from the statue, to a distance of around twenty yards, even there the footage seemed distorted... That was to be expected, given the camera and the men in the video were only moments before exposed to over two hundred Arc-Rads, the maximum to which the meters could reliably register. All those involved were subsequently admitted to Canterlot General for immediate examination and treatment, Acute Arcane Radiation Syndrome wasn't typically fatal with such brief exposure, but the men nonetheless were starting complaining of severe discomfort. Setting aside the human cost for a moment, seeing that high of a reading from the Discord Statue did not bode well for a myriad of other factors. The footage abruptly stopped, and with the audible flick of a switch the lights came back up.

"The men are still undergoing treatment, but the Doctors predict they'll make full recoveries." Aquila spoke up, further confirming Celestia's hopes for the soldiers' safety. The Director's voice was hoarse and rough, grating like sandpaper on Celestia's ears. In the slightly brighter room his ghoulish features became all the more pronounced, sunken eyes, short unkempt black hair, a notable slouch. Taking a sip of water from a glass on the table, he cleared his throat and spoke again, this time with a voice far clearer and more unsettling in its nonchalant callousness. "In most cases the stone enchantment is strong enough to contain its occupant indefinitely, but CH-Four-Zero-Five is not most cases."

"Our best guess is that the containment of Object CH-Four-Zero-Five will fail in approximately four months." He continued as he picked up a smoldering half finished cigarette from an ashtray, gently drawing on it a few times before exhaling. Like the man, the cigarette was also distinct. Soft yellow paper, with a purple filter that depicted a belly dancing woman in silhouette along its exterior. The brand was unknown to Celestia, not that she smoked, especially not as prodigiously as her military staff or even the average Equestrian... She'd likely need to use considerably powerful magic after this meeting, to get the scent of ash out of her clothes and hair. "If we're lucky, at least."

"Your best guess?" Luna asked skeptically, interrupting Celestia's wandering thoughts and lacing her fingers together whilst sitting up in her chair. "So it could fail tomorrow, or next week?" Aquila nodded apologetically, then wordlessly flipped open a folder resting before him. "What of the other artifacts within the gardens, were they disturbed in any way by the arrival of Princess Orzel or her Mother?"

"Preliminary results suggest her arrival had no impact, aside from the creation of the ring of runes in the gardens. Other checks from around Equestria confirm no appreciable breaches in the Arcane Barrier so far." Aquila responded evenly, flipping through a few more pages before picking one up and reading it a bit more closely. Despite Luna's somewhat annoyed tone, Celestia could see that Aquila was more or less unfazed. Given that matters of this importance were generally handled by the Nocturne Agency, she supposed such issues were not uncommon. That scared her, the more she thought about it... How many threats had the Agency eliminated throughout the centuries without her knowledge? "Tests indicate the containment failure of CH-Four-Zero-Five is more likely the result of the transference of the Elements of Harmony. The failure could've blindsided us if we hadn't conducted the anomaly sweep when we did..."

"What are our options?" Celestia spoke up, leaning back in her own seat and glancing from Aquila, to Arcturus, to Redwood with an expectantly quirked eyebrow. The three men looked among one another, as if communicating in some unknowable silent language. They were the most senior men in the chamber, at least in terms of experience and rank... One of the few instances where the Nocturne Agency and the Lunar Corps could cooperate with the Regular Army without descending into some sort of jurisdictional shouting match.

"We can move the statue to a secluded area of Equestria, preferably the desert. From there it's a simple matter of wrappin' it with explosives and blowin' it plum to tartarus." Redwood stated in that burly surly voice of his, carrying a distinctive twang that could only come from the southern province of Lone Star. "If that don't work, we can have airships and the Army Air Corps on standby to knock the crap out of whatever's left of ol' Discord before he has a chance to do boo. Eliminate the threat once and for all, and free up some space in the Garden at the same time. S'win-win in my book."

"The more prudent course of action is to remove the statue and transfer it to a secure facility, possibly Darkstar at Neighless Army Air Corps Base." Arcturus countered, sitting up straight in his seat as he took a drag from a dimly glowing cigarette that hung between his lips. Celestia was already leaning more towards Arcturus' suggestion, primarily because it didn't involve out and out killing Discord. Much as he was a threat, the death penalty was a solution she preferred to avoid. "Once there, we can construct a dedicated containment vessel around the statue with the aid of the Elements of Harmony, so that whenever CH-Four-Zero-Five escapes the statue he'll already be contained. Long enough for us to re-imprison him, at any rate."

"We can certainly contain CH-Four-Zero-Five as Marshal Arcturus suggests, but I believe we would be missing a unique opportunity." Aquila chimed in, steepling his fingers while the glimmering ember of his cigarette slowly creeped towards his chapped lips. From where Celestia sat, she could detect a faint smile within the gloom, though what purpose it served remained unknown to her. "Despite his destructive nature, Discord has remarkable arcane ability. If he could be 'reformed', as the Elements did to Princess Luna, we would serve to learn a great deal about the Chaotic Realm and gain a potent ally."

"The Chaotic Realm...?" One of the less senior Officers asked incredulously, Celestia couldn't see who directly with all the smoke and dingy lighting. Their disbelief was understandable, the 'Chaotic Realm' was little more than a hypothesized arcane curiosity, and not a very well accepted one either. In theory it was like Limbo, a 'space between spaces', between Equestria and... Something else. "I realize you deal in superstition, Mister Director, but you would have us spare Discord in order to learn about something that doesn't exist?"

"You have not seen beyond the veil as I have." Aquila stated coldly, lacing his fingers together with frightful speed. "There exist realms far beyond your meager comprehension, realms that pose an existential threat to everything and everyone on this planet!" His eyes passed back to Celestia, then to Luna, then oddly to the film projector. Though not a word was spoken, his meaning seemed quite clear. Orzel and her Mother were from another realm, as were the creatures that inadvertently came with them... Creatures currently housed at Nocturne Agency Headquarters in Canterlot, and with which Aquila was likely intimately familiar. "A door has been left open, if it is not closed, something will eventually come through... Discord may be the only being capable of putting a stop to it, or at the very least mitigating the threat."

Celestia and Luna eyed one another, communicating in a manner not all that dissimilar from Aquila's telling glance. Killing Discord was not an option, and not only due to the moral quandaries it would raise. Such an act was attempted once before, long ago, to little effect. Arcturus' solution was perhaps the safest of the three, permanently imprisoning Discord once and for all... That too was morally dubious, Discord would still technically be alive, though what quality of life he'd experience was not a subject Celestia cared to speculate upon. Aquila's idea, while dangerous, left some small amount of wiggle room. There was also undoubtedly more to his vague 'door' metaphor that couldn't be discussed in current company, Nocturne Agency matters were seldom discussed among the General Staff.

"My sister and I shall need to deliberate on the offered solutions, in the meantime I want that section of the gardens cordoned off and placed under heavy guard." Celestia ordered calmly, the other officers nodded, though a few threw unpleasant glares in Aquila's direction. "We'll adjourn for the day, you're all dismissed." There came quiet murmuring from the assembled brass as they stood from their seats. Celestia and Luna were always the last to leave meetings, generally it was easier to just hold their discussion in the same room than it was to depart to a more 'official' deliberating chamber.

Gradually the Generals and Admirals filed out of the room, with Arcturus and Redwood lingering the longest, until the only other person that remained was Aquila. He silently gathered up his files and extinguished his cigarette in one of the ashtrays, his features remaining as stoic and implacable as before.

"Director, if you would remain for a moment." Luna's voice was gentle but firm, and the enigmatic spymaster cordially nodded. Adjusting his suit, the man approached the doors and closed them firmly. "I hope you do not mind my asking his retention, Sister, but I have several questions." Celestia simply hummed, reclining in her seat and resting her hands in her lap. The strange gaunt fellow certainly piqued Celestia's attention, his earlier icy words having awakened a sense of dread with which Celestia was all too familiar. "You have new insights into my daughter's arrival..." It wasn't a question, and was spoken with a bluntness that could only belong to her sister.

"We've completed our dissection of the two unidentified creatures, a far more involved process than the autopsy of the Adult Female." Aquila explained as he took a seat, reaching into his jacket and withdrawing a purple cigarette packet. He plucked a familiar purple and beige cylinder from within, setting it between his lips. Luna seemed slightly annoyed by the term 'Adult Female', as far as Celestia new her name had been 'Sokol'... "The Female is undoubtedly a Drake, though as suspected she lacks the bile sacks necessary for fire breath." The man paused, then sighed in uncertainty.

"We also found evidence of arcane genetic enhancements that... Frankly, are far too advanced for us to fully grasp." He continued cautiously. "They were dormant prior to her arrival here... For example, she possesses an astonishing healing factor, even by draconic standards. Though deceased, the wounds she sustained nonetheless mended themselves. It made the autopsy quite difficult." The Director rubbed at the back of his neck. "Had she been exposed to our realm's ambient arcane energy for longer, I doubt she would have succumb to her wounds. It is... Unfortunate." Aquila offered meagerly.

"Our theory as to Princess Orzel's continuing development is all but assured, she should reach complete physiological maturity by age eighteen without adverse affects." The man clasped his hands behind his back, taking a more matter-of-fact posture. "I cannot attest that the process will not be unpleasant, but there should be little risk of lifelong illness. Quite contrary, if she shares her Mother's healing ability I dare say there's little chance she'll ever succumb to natural causes. That's not to say she's 'immortal', just... Very durable, much like an Alicorn. I would seriously consider running a few experiments to-" The man stopped as soon as he saw Luna's darkening eyes. "Never mind." Aquilla's features grew serious. "The creatures are a far more disturbing matter... Our analysis indicates they are memetic beings."

"Memetic beings...?" Both Celestia and Luna said in shocked unison, Aquila nodded solemnly and withdrew a battered silvery flip lighter from his pocket. Lighting his cigarette, he took a long drag and exhaled through his nose. The stress of his job was obviously substantial, and mention of 'Memetic Beings' made the reasoning all the clearer. Creatures that could change shape weren't unknown to Equestria, but often times they were not the benevolent sort. Between the glowing green blood and black chitinous armor, Celestia could only come to one conclusion...

"They were Changelings?" The elder Princess probed, Aquila took another drag on his cigarette before nodding. He paused for a moment, exhaled, then shook his head noncommittally. The Changelings were a race of insect like humanoids, once notorious for their brutal raids upon frontier villages in the past. Like Drakes, the Changelings generally preferred to take what they needed rather than barter for it, though in the latter's case that generally involved kidnapping people to an often unknown but doubtlessly terrible fate. The last Changeling raid, however, had taken place more then three centuries ago. They were considered now by many to be little more than legends or folktales... Celestia knew for a fact, they were very very real. "Well were they or weren't they, Director?"

"They are and they aren't..." Aquila explained in that cryptic way of his, setting his palms on the table. "Individually they lack an ability for higher reasoning or shape shifting beyond the most basic of alterations, and in addition to emotion seemed to rely heavily on a carnivorous diet. Dissection of the stomach revealed copious amounts of brain matter, suggesting they take most of their nutrients from the limbic system." The Director shook his head. "It's unlike anything I've ever seen, honestly, as if the species from Princess Orzel's world are a de-evolved variant of our own." The man's eyes fell on Celestia, boring into her with unrelenting determination. "They have the lethal capacity to redefine brutality as we know it, we'd stand no chance against them were they to come here in force... It is only by the grace of the Gods that they lack the higher brain function to replicate the incident that brought Princess Orzel here. Even so, there may be others within their realm, others of higher ability and equally malicious intent."

"Yet Discord may be our best defense... Between the monsters and dictatorships, that world must truly must be a hellish place." Celestia muttered quietly, looking at Luna apologetically. "I've not experienced the effects of the Elements of Harmony first hand, at least not as you have, Sister. Could they be used as Aquila proposes? Is it possible to 'reform' Discord?" Celestia inwardly sighed when Luna's lips curled abruptly into a disgusted frown, her eyes looking pensively at the table. Discord and Luna had a history beyond their battle a thousand years ago, the Chaos God having taken something very precious to her sister, something that could never be replaced. "I realize you harbor no kindness towards him, Luna, but if he can help-"

"I doubt it can be done." The woman sharply declared, clenching her fists and gritting her teeth. When next she spoke, it was with bitter resentment. Celestia could see a fire in her sister's eyes, the very same that had raged in a fight they'd had countless lifetimes ago. Her heart ached for her sibling, recalling just what the battle with Discord had cost, or rather 'whom'... Things at the time were complicated, by a great many factors Celestia couldn't control. No matter how many centuries passed, the grieving rage that burned in her sister's soulful eyes was just as hot as when it had first sprung forth, much to Celestia's dismay. "For the Elements to reform a being, that being must at least have some sort of good quality within them. Be that compassion, kindness, love, or what have you... Discord is, without a doubt, the complete antithesis of good!" She spat, as if saying the name itself left a bad taste in her mouth.

Celestia nodded quietly, though she remained unconvinced that anyone could be truly totally devoid of 'good'. Discord could be cruel and underhanded, his brief rule of Equestria having been paradoxically despotic and anarchic. Yet in all the chaos he so reveled in, perhaps there was a decent thought or two, miniscule as they might have been. Compared to what Aquila described, there were far worse things to fear than Discord. If he could be reformed it would spell an end to the threat posed by the realm where Changelings were little more than mindless killing machines... The risk, slim as it may have been, was not one Celestia intended to leave unresolved.

"If my Sister doesn't object..." Celestia began, looking at Luna with as much compassion as she could. Her eyes then fell to Aquila, who at this point had already finished half of his cigarette. "I want you to begin working with Field Marshal Arcturus to make preparations for Discord's reformation." Luna remained quiet, folding her hands into her lap while her wings fluttered with agitation. "This takes precedence over any other program on or off the books. Whatever resources you need, Director, you've got a blank check."

"Understood, ma'am." Aquila stated simply, crushing his cigarette in the ashtray before once more gathering his files and rising from his seat. "I need to make a few phone calls, if I may take my leave?" Celestia nodded, and without another word the Director was on his way out the door. The two Princesses sat silently for what felt like an eternity, though the ticking clock on the wall indicated only a minute or two had passed. Celestia's mind wandered through all sorts of probabilities and likelihoods, though disaster compartmentalization was always more Luna's forte. Looking at her sister, it was clear to Celestia that the woman was once again deep in thought, so the elder Princess did what she felt would get the conversation moving again. She rose from her seat, offered to help Luna do the same, and gestured out into the hallway.

"Walk with me." She insisted, her smiling face somehow completely clear despite the swirling puffs of lingering smoke. Luna took her hand and stood up, straightening her gown and following Celestia towards the door. The pair emerged into a quiet and rather plainly decorated section of the castle, well off the beaten path of tours or public viewing. There was an occasional painting to break up the otherwise featureless stone walls, but aside from that this area was far more utilitarian. Bringing her magic to her palm, Celestia encapsulated Luna and herself briefly in a sphere of golden light. It dissipated as quickly as it formed, taking with it the stench of tobacco smoke that would likely have been stuck in their clothes and hair for weeks. "What's on your mind, Little Sister?"

"A great many things, Celestia" Luna admitted, clasping her hands behind her back as she walked beside Celestia. "The 'open door' in the Arcane Barrier, the autopsy on Sokol, the Changelings from another world, Discord's apparent return. One eventful night in the Garden has everything unraveling." The woman shook her head, looking briefly out one of the hallway windows at the city beyond. "On a more personal note... Despite my urging, Aquila has yet to release the body of Orzel's mother for burial, nor has he released Orzel's family sword. Now he wishes to reform one of our worst enemies to aid us against an even greater threat... And on top of all that? Orzel is fighting me on the matter of attending dance classes."

"Is that all?" Celestia asked with a small hint of mirth, apparently earning a chuckle from the dour Princess beside her. While it was true that today was filled with all sorts of crises, Celestia found it all about an average day of stress. Luna had yet to fully experience a national crisis, her 'dramatic return' not withstanding. "Let's start with the simplest problems first. As I recall, Aquila answers directly to you. Order him to release the remains and the sword, problem solved."

"I have... Despite what he told us in back there, he says his scientists are still 'finalizing their analysis'." Luna groaned, rubbing at her forehead with her right hand. "My next step would be to fire him, or to send a detachment of Marines to remove both Sokol's remains and the sword by force." Bringing her hand behind her back, Luna shook her head and cast her eyes upon the floor. "Despite this hiccup, Aquila has done remarkable work... I fear his scientific interests have outpaced his common sense in this matter, however." Celestia hummed, reconsidering her suggestions. Things could never be easy when it came to the Nocturne Agency, very rarely did they willingly give anything up... Even asking to borrow a paperclip from them was akin to pulling teeth.

"Alright, put a pin in that one." Conceded Celestia, rolling her shoulders as the pair drew near an intersection that branched off towards the Castle's West Wing. This area of the hallway was gradually becoming more and more decorated, though with pieces that seemed quite out of date. She'd have to see about getting the area a bit more with the times, as well as getting the existing paintings restored. Years of sitting in the sunny hallway, virtually unattended, was doing little to ensure their posterity. "Orzel not wanting to attend dance classes is frustrating, but you of all people know that ballroom dancing isn't for everyone."

"It is not just about dancing." Luna explained, sounding a bit less annoyed than before. Her posture was relaxing, just getting out of the situation room was likely doing wonders to help her state of mind. "I could teach her to dance if I so chose, but what I cannot do on my own is expose her to life, nor can I craft friends for her from thin air..." Celestia quirked an eyebrow, then nodded in agreement with her sister's reasoning. There were some things that simply couldn't be taught in a classroom, something Celestia was all too familiar with. Her solution to the particular problem in question was to send Twilight Sparkle to Ponyville, though admittedly with a slight ulterior motive... There was a thought.

"Maybe you should send her to visit Twilight Sparkle?" Celestia suggested idly, her eyes carefully roving over Luna's face for any sign of her reaction. Her younger sister was understandably rather protective of Orzel, and sending her out into Canterlot was probably a hard decision. Sending her daughter to an entirely different town, into the care of a woman perhaps no more than four or five years older than Orzel herself, had to be an unthinkable prospect by comparison. Luna's implacable exterior melted into one of mixed uncertainty and apprehension. "It could be good for her to meet Spike. They're both around the same age, and in similar situations."

"Spike?" Luna asked with a bit more shock than Celestia had expected. "No... No boys, not until she is older. Much, much older..." At this Celestia stopped walking, putting her hands on her hips and giving Luna an unsubtle frown. If her latest observations of Orzel's behavior were to be believed, Spike probably wasn't the only person Luna would need to worry about. Luna seemed to pick up on her sister's meaning, once again pursing her lips with quiet realization. "I see your point, and while I am certain he is a sweet boy... What if putting them together sends the wrong message?" Celestia began walking again, briefly jogging to catch up with her sister. "Orzel tells me arranged marriages were common in the Szafirian Empire, and that such a fate was likely what awaited her as well. I would not want her to think that her being sent to Ponyville and meeting spike is a prelude to some sort of... Engagement."

"It's just something to consider." Offered Celestia, frowning slightly as her stomach growled. The nature of Orzel's country of birth didn't make things easy, and while they'd managed to break her out of the control the stigma placed on her being a member of the 'Warrior Caste' held upon her, there was still a lot of work that needed to be done before she fully assimilated into Equestrian society. On that thought, Celestia was reminded of something else. "Oh, by the way. I've been looking into a few psychotherapists and counselors for Orzel, I'd like you to look over the short list and give me your thoughts. Now that she can speak Equestrian we've got a lot more options."

"I will examine the list and vet the names tonight..." Luna agreed, sighing slightly and pinching the bridge of her nose. "For now, I believe we have an apocalypse to prevent." Celestia nodded sagely as the two turned down another approaching intersection. The situation with Discord and the 'Chaotic Realm' had to take priority, the rest of their daily duties would need to wait. It would mean a week's worth of backlogged petitions and schedule juggling, just one of the hazards of being a Princess...

Miss Pirouette's class had gone categorically well, at least until they'd come to the 'slow dance' portion. It was at that point that Orzel's patience reached its limit, there was simply no way she would dance so closely to anyone. It may have been acceptable in Equestria, but not within the Empire. Close contact between a girl and a boy was yet another activity strictly regulated for the 'Good of the State'. Like many things she'd discovered in Equestria, Orzel wasn't altogether put off by the idea of close dancing with someone she actually liked... Even so, she'd had far too much change for one day, and she wasn't all that fond of High Tower. This ultimately led to her excusing herself from class several minutes early, not an insanely large amount of time, something to hopefully cushion the blow when Luna inevitably found out.

That left Orzel once again free to wander the streets of Canterlot, her two hulking chaperones hidden even from her own sight. With nowhere she needed to be, the teen was simply going wherever her heart fancied. The independence to go wherever she wanted... That was a change she'd prepared for, and it was a sensation that she found more intoxicating with each quiet thud of her shoes against the sidewalk. There still existed an occasional urge to check over her shoulder for the odd MIS Agent, but even these were greatly diminished from their earlier strength.

Trucks and cars meandered about in their orderly lanes, some decorated with large advertisements for all manner of things from soap to clothing to beer and even cigars. Just as with her first trip outside the castle, however, Orzel's attention was most drawn to the occasional motorcycle that darted among the traffic. Their engines growled a sputtering baritone whenever their riders zoomed past, tremendously loud machines that demanded attention and respect. Perhaps it was the cool confidence with which their operators handled themselves, or maybe the dangerous physics involved in maintaining ones balance while blazing along at breakneck speeds. Whatever the reason, Orzel wanted one... It certainly would've been easier than walking.

Of course, the girl suspected Luna would say Orzel was still far too young for such a vehicle, or any vehicle for that matter. The woman would probably be furious if her daughter somehow managed to bring one of the illustrious machines home. Tucking her hands into her pockets, Orzel sighed and continued along her merry way. When she was older she'd get one for herself, though as to how she'd finance the endeavor? Well, that was a matter better left for 'Future Orzel' to solve. As it stood she had only the Bits in her pocket, twenty or so that Luna had given to her as reward for her first successful enchantment class. Enough to purchase a dozen new model kits, or a decent assortment of quality hardcover books, but nothing as frivolous as an automobile or motorcycle.

It was part of another concept Luna made a distinct point of mentioning, that being the 'value of money'. Orzel didn't really see what her Mother was so insistent about, the concept seemed fairly straightforward. Twenty Bits were worth Twenty Bits. Though, as she thought on it more, perhaps it had to do with just what Twenty Bits could purchase... What one did with that Twenty Bits to get the most value out of it. The teen hummed thoughtfully, rubbing her chin while looking about her surroundings. The stores all around her seemed to cater to people like High Tower or the other students at the dance studio. Twenty Bits would get her little within their walls, though frankly she didn't see much of anything she liked anyway.

Men and women passed her on either side, barely paying Orzel any mind as they moved about their own lives. Most were well dressed, carrying purses or wearing suits like those advertised in the windows of so many nearby tailors. Yet most of their faces seemed distant and blank, with lips tugging subtly downwards. How many Bits did they carry? Orzel could only guess, but surely more than twenty. Disturbingly, their expressions were anything but new to her. Those few nobles she'd seen blurrily in Cesarski wore scowls much the same, and they were most certainly well supplied with Imperial Grosz.

The minutes gradually dragged on whilst Orzel continued her mid-afternoon stroll, over the course of which it seemed the city around her grew more and more upscale. Buildings towered higher than even the massive industrial chimneys, their facades decorated in an appealing blend of Art-Deco and Neo-Classical aesthetic. Great carved columns and vaulted archways lined the exterior of each titanic construct of steel and concrete. It invigorated her mind to imagine what it must've been like to build such a structure, especially considering the great height at which Canterlot already sat. It certainly took men and women of a courageous, or perhaps foolish, sort. Orzel couldn't see most of the people that used the buildings actually working on their construction, but she supposed anything was possible.

The cars here were far sleeker in aesthetic design than those Orzel had seen outside the castle, with flowing curvacious lines, polished chrome and glossy paint. Like seemingly everything in the Downtown area, each car was designed with form over function in mind. Their hood ornaments generally displayed a stylized statuette of Aunt Celestia, the logo of Solare Automotive Industries. One of the more expensive brands on the market, SAI prided itself more on appearance and comfort than overall performance. Orzel's notes found them to be one of the least reliable brands in the country, according to her ongoing research into internal combustion, so she had to wonder why she saw so many of the glorified paperweights sputtering around.

Given how expensive things appeared in this section of town, however, perhaps their owners weren't as concerned with performance as they were with appearances... Orzel understood the desire to look nice, but trading quality for flashy appearances didn't sit well with her. She'd worn the same pair of shoes for nearly five years before coming to Equestria, her Mother and Father modifying them as best they could to accommodate her growing feet. It was cheaper than buying a new pair every year or so, even if the discomfort was more or less nearly unbearable by her fifteenth birthday. She doubted a car from SAI could last five years, not without a major overhaul... Would it even be worth saving at that point?

On the subject of uncomfortable footwear, Orzel was becoming increasingly aware of an ache with every step she took. Glancing at a large clock situated atop a dark metal pole at the center of a nearby intersection, she came to the startling realization that she'd been walking aimlessly for nearly two hours. Her stomach growled in protest, further signaling that perhaps it was time to take a moment to recuperate. She was surrounded by little more than townhouses and upscale apartment complexes, though there still lingered a few stores. Nowhere to really sate her growing hunger, but perhaps somewhere to rest her feet.

Ahead of Orzel, only a block or two away, was what appeared to be a line of green trees, undoubtedly part of some inner city park. Parks tended to have benches, at least the few ones she'd visited prior to her arrival in Equestria. Resting her feet in a peaceful enclave of nature had a genuine appeal, presenting a chance to see and smell another aspect of Canterlot she hadn't even known existed. The distance gradually closed, her progress hampered only by the crosswalks and the efficiency of assigned traffic policemen. The leaves fluttered gently upon their branches at the edge of the park, joined by tall hedges concealing the grass beneath. The park itself was enclosed by a fence of iron bars and brick, though it seemed more an aesthetic choice than one of security...

The girl stopped hesitantly before an arched gateway, pausing to read a tarnished bronze plaque affixed to one of the brick pillars. Despite obvious neglect, the plaque nonetheless bore its age with stoic poise, defying the elements that had so gradually reduced its former luster. Orzel adjusted her spectacles, taking in the words with quiet interest. Statesman Park, named in memory of the author of 'For The Republic'. The teen could only marvel at the fascinating coincidence, that she would happen upon such a place so recently after reading his work... A work that raised almost as many questions about herself as it had given answers.

Passing through the gate, Orzel tucked her hands into her pockets and began her search for a bench upon which to rest her tired body. The large expanse of verdant foliage almost completely drowned out the tumult of the city, with the invigorating scent of freshly cut grass dominating all other aromas. Stone pathways meandered and curved around small knolls or dips in the landscaping, the closest of which briefly ran along the edge of a modestly sized pond. Orzel was more interested in the series of rounded stone tables and aged wooden chairs, set up there beneath the shady trees at the shore of that shimmering mirror of water.

Shuffling along at a slower pace, Orzel spotted a pair of women seated at one of the tables, apparently in the middle of eating lunch judging by the food wrappers set before them. They were likely in their mid to late twenties from what Orzel could gather, with one wearing a rather professional suit and skirt while the other little more than a ratty tank top and pants made from that same indigo twill fabric. As if their choice of clothing wasn't different enough, the woman in the suit had dark hair that went down to her shoulders, each strand of which being carefully combed and styled. Her more casual counterpart had the spikiest electric blue hair Orzel had ever seen, and wore an odd pair of purple lens sunglasses. From what the girl could gather, the two were just chatting with one another, paying her no mind as she took a seat at one of the tables a few feet away. Realistically it didn't matter to Orzel if they did or didn't, she wasn't there to socialize, only to take in the sights and give her legs a rest.

Orzel's eyes fell upon the nearly undisturbed pond to her right, the reflections of several tall buildings serving as a reminder that she was still within the confines of a bustling metropolis. Water grass pierced its surface in several places, with small cattails swaying in the breeze. A pair of white swans scooted about with a tiny contingent of swanlings following in their wake, and it was this small bevy of water fowl that accounted for occasional ripples in the water's surface. A growing sense of anxiety formed in Orzel's mind, fueled by rising emotional dissonance at the sight of such a happy family. It was something that Orzel was beginning to doubt she'd ever experienced, or could ever experience now...

Even as she came to resent what her parents stood for, they nonetheless remained her parents, and she could only imagine just how disappointed they would be to see what she'd become. They were only human, she realized that intellectually, but emotionally she couldn't make the disconnect. Even before coming to Equestria, there existed a sort of distance growing between herself and her family... Mother still insisted on spending as much time with her as possible, but Orzel always felt that had more to do with preparing her for an arranged marriage. For all her Mother's strength, it was obvious the woman was terrified of what would become of Orzel if such a marriage couldn't be secured.

Watching the swans meander around, nuzzling one another, helping their babies along when necessary, it did something to Orzel... Without realizing it at first, she felt her eyes begin to water. Quickly she removed her spectacles and wiped them with her sleeve, not wanting them to fog up. Taking a sharp breath through her nose, Orzel set her jaw and closed her eyes. A Princess couldn't be seen crying in public, what sort of message would that send? Such weakness had no place in a strong ruler, even if it was brought on by grief...

So Orzel did what she always did when troubled by emotion, she attempted to mentally beat it into submission. Violently shoving the heartache deep down, somewhere where it couldn't hurt her anymore, the girl practically trembled with anxious energy before finally exhaling and opening her eyes. It was then that she was acutely aware that the two chatting women had stopped talking, so Orzel quickly replaced her spectacles and looked around. The two were looking at her with curious concern, though neither said anything, at least not until the woman with the blue hair nudged her companion with her foot.

"Are you alright, love?" The Professional asked in an oddly accented form of Equestrian, to which Orzel simply nodded and shakily stood to her feet. They still ached, but she feared that if she opened her mouth the thoughts would pour forth without end. The last thing a Princess should do was to dump every feeling of insecurity onto a pair of complete strangers, or anyone for that matter. It could never be allowed to see the light of day. Ever. How could they possibly understand her inner turmoil, they'd probably just tell her the platitudes typical of the uninitiated. 'Things will get better.', or the more infuriating 'You just need to think more positively.'... As if just 'thinking positively' would fix anything. Orzel just wanted to go home, to curl up with her books, and go to sleep forever...

Sleep seemed the only escape from the hellish storm of emotional war that raged ever onwards beneath a thin veneer of calm, a veneer so perfect that sometimes it even fooled Orzel into thinking she was alright... But she wasn't 'alright', she was never 'alright'. Not truthfully. She dulled her senses with books and music and models, any hobby or skill she sought to learn was only a means of prolonging the confrontation between herself and the yawning cavernous abyss that threatened ceaselessly to consume her. Sometimes it got so bade that she had thoughts that there was nothing in life that made it worth living, that she was a mistake, a degenerate piece of garbage, that if she had a soul it was wholly unworthy of saving. They would go away for a time, but eventually they always came back... Without warning they'd emerge, just as they were now, every time attacking her sanity with increasing strength...

Orzel then became acutely aware of a lack of oxygen, in her panic she'd forgotten to take a breath... Stupid... She hadn't realized it, but the woman with blue hair was standing now, gradually guiding her to a spare seat at their table.

"Take a breath, a big deep breath." The woman urged in a scratchy voice, Orzel complied with a shuddering gasp that surprised even herself with its volume. Reality snapped back into focus, the colors more vibrant than moments before. Whenever her mind spiraled out of control, the entire world would enter a morphing gray-scale, further fueling the mental firestorm. That simple act of taking a breath, however, wiped the slate nearly completely clean. Orzel was back in control, tentatively, though she wasn't sure how long that would last. "There, nice and easy." Orzel took another breath, her mouth suddenly very dry. "Better?" The girl nodded, now letting her eyes fall the ground, as she couldn't look either of the women in the eyes without feeling ashamed of herself... "Do you have someone you want us to call?"

"Y-Yes..." Orzel responded shakily in Equestrian, taking several more deep breaths through her nose. She couldn't help wondering just where Grim and Fable were, as her two bodyguards seemed generally pretty protective of her outside the Castle walls. She looked around for any sign of the hulking behemoths, but they were nowhere to be seen. Had they abandoned her? Left her to fend for herself in the city without any sort of warning? Perhaps they agreed she wasn't worth protecting. Orzel had no way of telling either way, they were remarkably adept at remaining unseen. The two strangers she'd come to hesitate speaking with now seemed her only hope of getting home. In order to do that, however, she'd need to speak Equestrian. Bracing herself for the humiliation of butchering the language, Orzel spoke once more. "Mother works at Cass-Hill, con-tact guard house, ask them to be sending car for Orzel... They will know what means." The teen pinched the bridge of her nose, leaning against the table. "Please... Wait sever-all mean-ehts, need to be clear-ring my head." She chanced a look at the two of them, noting the concern still evident on their faces. "Thank you... Am fine."

"You're most certainly welcome." The Professional said with a small smile, patting Orzel on the shoulder. "It's going to take me some time to find a phone booth. Why don't you stay with her, Vinyl?" She stood from her seat, adjusting her suit jacket while the woman with the tank top nodded in the affirmative. Orzel felt a pang of guilt at having interrupted their lunch, yet another item to toss onto a growing pile of things she'd undoubtedly spend the better part of that night tossing and turning over.

"No problem, Tavi!" Vinyl responded with metered cheerfulness, obviously attempting to put on a comforting face. The Professional, 'Tavi' apparently, gave one final nod and began walking towards a path leading to one of the park gates. That left Orzel and Vinyl to sit in silence, broken only by the distant thrum of Canterlot and occasionally a squawk from the swan pond. "So, your name's Orzel?" Orzel nodded, biting her lower lip and anxiously drumming her fingers on the table. "I'm guessing your parents aren't here..." The teen once again nodded, this time with a bit more hesitance. Picking up on this, Vinyl smiled sadly and removed her sunglasses. "I get it, I'm a stranger... Even so, do you mind if I ask what got you so upset?"

"The birds." Orzel admitted, looking at the family of swans on the pond. Perhaps telling a stranger would help, it was more than likely this woman didn't know Orzel's true nature, or anyone else Orzel knew for that matter... The teen could afford to be a bit more honest. "Re-mind-dead me of family... Birth Mother and Father are gone." Vinyl winced slightly, but a look of curiosity nonetheless stirred to life in her wine colored eyes. "Is okay, I have new family... In some ways, is better." Orzel looked guiltily back at the table, just then noting the wrappers for two chicken sandwiches that Vinyl and Tavi had apparently been enjoying before she'd inadvertently interrupted them. "More like birds." Vinyl hummed thoughtfully, rubbing her chin while Orzel grimaced. "Much on my mind... You under-stand, yes? Is diff-eh-cult to put-tings in your tongue..." She trailed off, before quietly adding. "I stop now, do not want to be of both-her."

"It's not like I have anywhere else to be." Assured Vinyl, folding her hands into her lap. She reclined with a bit more poise than Orzel had expected given her appearance, her features becoming slightly harder to read. There was still a sort of confidence that Orzel couldn't quite discern the source of, but it seemed remarkably out of place all things considered. "Believe it or not, but you aren't the only person to feel that way about their family, adoptive or otherwise. What about your adoptive family makes you think they're 'better'?" Orzel paused for a moment, looking off to the side in quiet contemplation... She wasn't sure how much she could say without damaging her public image, or the image of Luna for that matter.

"They support me, deh-spite me being diff-air-rent..." Orzel quietly explained, lacing her fingers together and looking back at the table. "My bi-o-lo-gic parents.... Not so much." The girl sighed, leaning back in her seat while Vinyl nodded and let out a slight hum. "I worry they would diss-own me, if still alive. Not sure I would blame them..."

Vinyl let out another hum, but Orzel wasn't comfortable going into further detail, not if she wasn't prompted first. Given how Orzel's day had been going, middling and now leaning towards bad, the teen figured she'd be waiting for her ride for quite some time. Eventually things would get quiet, she'd feel nervous, then start blabbing about things she shouldn't to fill the uncomfortable silence. It seemed they had already toppled that domino, and now all that remained was for Orzel to keep from making a fool of herself. Any more than she already had...

Chapter 7

Orzel stared blankly ahead at the wall of the waiting room, nervously fidgeting in her seat as jazzy music played from a nearby radio. The room was painted an inviting shade of blue, the hardwood floor well worn, illuminated by two large windows facing the eastern portion of Canterlot. Situated on the fifth floor, Orzel could see a fair bit of this section of the city, including the alabaster towers and walls of Canterlot Castle in the middle-distance. Several paintings of birds lined the walls, as well as a small series of poster urging the reader not to 'lose hope'. Seated as she was upon a blue and white striped couch, Orzel had been waiting for nearly twenty minutes while Luna was in the other room, speaking with the teen's new counselor...

According to Orzel's own research into the counselor, they held doctorates in several psychological fields, as well as a Masters degree in 'Music Theory' of all things. Pictures of the woman were virtually non-existent, as she apparently didn't care to have her photograph taken, something that Orzel could wholly understand. Several photographs of herself were already surfacing in just the few short weeks since her first, and only, visit to Miss Pirouette's Dance Studio. The cat was out of the bag that she was a Drake, and now all of Equestria knew what she looked like. Evidence of that fact couldn't be any clearer than upon the covers of several magazines that lined an end table beside the couch, all bearing pictures of Orzel alongside numerous headlines making outrageous claims.

A few of the more slanderous articles claimed Orzel was actually Luna's illegitimate daughter, and that her adoption was only a ruse to allow her to sit on the throne. Others were asserting that Luna kidnapped Orzel somehow, and she never left the Castle because a vaguely mentioned 'they' didn't want her to 'escape'... Those were the more scandalous and outrageous articles she'd heard of, though thankfully not included among the magazines arrayed in the waiting room.

The articles present were far more critical of Orzel's 'frumpy' choice of wardrobe, or her refusal to wear makeup, or the fact that she wasn't a 'real Equestrian'. Some even referred to Agent's Grim and Fable as the two towering mountains of muscle that served as her 'personal goons'. Said 'goons' were seated near the outer door, their chairs barely containing their considerable bulk.

The 'failure' of her two bodyguards to intercede at the park turned out to be a bit more complicated than Orzel first realized, something that ultimately neither she nor Luna could hold against them. Their reasoning for leaving her in the care of two strangers whilst she suffered a panic attack was that Grim and Fable were only two people, and despite their considerable size, they couldn't be everywhere at once. An apparently more pressing threat to Orzel's safety had arisen, so they'd made the decision to deal with that instead... A Hot Dog Cart operator apparently hadn't realized he was following a Princess, or that he was following anyone at all... At least, that was the story Orzel was informed of.

To ensure that such a security risk never happened again, Orzel would now travel under the watchful guard a cadre of Nocturne Agents whenever leaving the Castle, with Grim and Fable still serving as her personal bodyguards. That essentially put an end to her days walking wherever she wanted, exploring the world as she saw fit, for the foreseeable future... Her brief foray into Canterlot was at least fun while it lasted, up until the ending, at any rate. Now, once a week, Orzel would be dragged from the safety of the Castle in order to speak to the enigmatic Doctor Scratch. If the Nocturne Agency was so keen to keep her safe, then why make her leave? Why not have the Doctor just visit her at the Castle instead? Undoubtedly it was supposed to be another one of Luna's lessons about 'confidence in the face of adversity'...

Both Grim and Fable were reading magazines, the pages of which were comically small within their massive meaty paws, with Grim reading 'Athletics Illuminated' and Fable engrossed in the latest issue of 'Capital'... The former was fairly self-explantory, but Orzel's only clue to the contents of the latter publication was a picture of a portly eldered businessman on the cover, he was smoking a large cigar, and cradled in his arms a bolt-action rifle. The tag line read something like 'Double Aught: Remembering a Titan of the Industry'. She deduced therefore that this was some sort of financial publication... At least it wasn't one of those ugly pictures of her...

The girl sighed, straightening her overly puffy light blue skirt and tapping her foot anxiously on the floor. The skirt and blouse that accompanied it were also the result of having had her photograph taken, as stated her tunic and trouser ensemble was considered too 'frumpy' at best and downright 'ugly' at worst. It was fine to wear within the confines of the Castle, but that was the extent of it, at least for another two years or so, at which point Orzel would be an adult and could dress however she very well pleased. Out of habit she brushed a lock of her hair back behind her ear, then straightened her spectacles with a huff. Her skin itched uncomfortably, yet another result of her entering the public consciousness.

She needed to wear makeup, now that the world knew what she looked like, because Drakes were 'intimidating and unseemly', and hardly 'Royal material'. According to one of the more hurtful articles, at any rate... Luna tried to keep them out of sight, but to little avail. Both the outfit and the makeup were two of the many things demanded by the Noble Party members on the National Council. According to them, if Orzel was to one day represent Equestria, and Equestria's interests, she would have to start looking the part. Of course Orzel's counter to that was that she had yet to actually represent Equestria or its interests in any official capacity, though she wasn't averse to the idea...

Luna tried to smooth things over, declaring the changes to only be temporary, and that the demands were more intended to hurt Luna than anyone else. Orzel then had to wonder if she wasn't being misled about the 'benefits' of having a Council to begin with... She already hated herself enough already, she already understood she'd never be good enough... Why couldn't they just leave her alone? How much more of herself would Orzel need to change in order to uphold her new duties as a Princess, how many more personal concessions would be necessary before the National Council and world at large was satisfied? Would they ever stop harassing her?

Before Orzel could enter the oncoming spiral of maddening anxiety, however, there came the abrupt click of a door knob turning. All eyes darted up to face the entryway to the Doctor's office, which slowly swung inwards to reveal the familiar form of Princess Luna. Grim and Fable rose to their feet out of respect while Orzel remained seated, still nervously tapping her foot as she awaited her Mother's voice.

"She is waiting for you." Luna said gently in Szafirian, gesturing inside the room. Orzel couldn't see the doctor from this angle, but obediently rose from her seat and trudged towards the door. "I will be here if you need me." The girl only gave the faintest of nods, desperately wishing she had a pair of pockets to tuck her hands into.

Orzel pushed the door closed behind her, making sure it latched shut, then finally turned to face her new counselor. The office was much the same as the waiting room, with a desk off in the corner piled high with manilla colored folders. A few gold records hung on the far wall, beside several fancy looking diplomas and a framed photograph of two women standing in front of Canterlot Castle. None of this was surprising on its own... No, that honor fell to the good Doctor herself. Orzel's jaw dropped for a brief moment, her eyes darting over the strange yet familiar features.

The electric blue hair, the rose colored eyes, the confident poise... Orzel recognized them all from her brief day of wandering, more accurately the ending portion of that day. Gone, however, were the strange sunglasses and spiky hair. The striking red eyes were now unobstructed, the hair pulled neatly back into a bun that mimicked Orzel's own typical style. Where once the woman had worn a tank top, now she wore a well pressed skirt and sweater. This was the enigmatic Doctor Vinyl Scratch, and only now did Orzel put the pieces together that Doctor Scratch was the same Vinyl she'd briefly bared her heart to.

Awkwardly rubbing the back of her neck, the teen quietly crossed the floor and took a seat on a couch across from the waiting doctor's own armchair. Taking a brief inhale through her nose, Orzel pursed her lips and tried her best not to panic... What were Luna and the Doctor talking about before she came in? Obviously about her, but about what... What if the Doctor had told her something?

"Orzel?" Vinyl's voice snapped the teen from her once again spiraling voice. "I'm guessing you weren't expecting to see me again, huh?" Orzel nodded cautiously, gripping one of the couch arms for support. "When we first met I admit I didn't recognize your name, I'd been contacted about you before... Your Mother filled me in on your situation, how you came to be here, how you've been faring since your arrival... She's very concerned about you." Orzel nodded again, too frightened to speak, as if sharing her butchery of Equestrian would be just one humiliation too far.

"I'm told you appreciate making things as plain as they can be, so let me start by saying that I am your therapist." The woman stated emphatically. "I may be paid by the Crown, but I work for you. Whatever you say to me within this office, or anywhere else for that matter, stays between the two of us, unless you give me permission to tell someone else. The only time where this doesn't apply is if I believe you pose a danger to yourself or others." She gestured to a box of tissues. "This is a safe place for you to express your emotions, Orzel. If you want to cry, you can cry. If you're angry, be angry... Don't bottle it up... You with me so far?" Again, all Orzel could do was nod. "Awesome! Do you have any questions for me?"

"I can say what-ever, you no tell? Really?" Orzel asked, inwardly groaning as she stumbled through the question. Vinyl nodded, smiling that confident smile of hers as she picked up a pad of paper from the table beside her seat, as well as a pen which she clicked in anticipation. "Where should I start...?" This time Vinyl shrugged, and Orzel supposed this was her signal to begin... Luna apparently trusted this woman, and even if the two were at odds, Orzel still trusted her Mother's ability to judge a person's character. In a way Orzel had already started talking to Vinyl once before, even if she hadn't realized it... She could do that again, couldn't she? "I hate wear-ring stupid skirt, and make-up... Is imp-rack-tickle, and makes me feel... Strange... But Mother says I must, to be good Princess..."

"How does wearing a skirt and makeup make you feel strange?" Vinyl asked, effortlessly scribbling something down on her notepad. Orzel paused for a moment, trying to think of how best to articulate her feelings. On the surface her reasoning for hating the clothing and makeup was rather clear, but there was just something about looking 'Princess-y' that drew out a feeling of guilt... How could she put that into words the Doctor would understand? Her spoken Equestrian was atrocious... Then Orzel's eyes fell upon the pen and paper, and in that moment she had an idea. Clearing her throat, Orzel tried to purge her mind of wayward thoughts, no easy feat considering the situation.

"My thoughts and words must be seen, let the air show what they mean." Orzel said in Szafirian, and before her very eyes there appeared a small glowing orb of blue arcane energy. Vinyl stared at it and Orzel curiously, apparently intrigued to see just where this was going. With mild reluctance, the Princess opened her mouth and spoke her mother tongue. "Did that work?" The orb darted around, forming letters as quickly as she spoke them, eventually leaving the Equestrian translation lingering in the air for around five seconds or so. Orzel couldn't suppress a smile, now she could finally make some progress. Once again she spoke in Szafirian, and her spell moved right along with her. "Being forced to wear this... Costume... Makes me feel powerless, and guilty on some level, I suppose..."

"Feeling powerless is a perfectly natural response, and we'll get to that, but what about your attire makes you feel guilty? From what I've been told, it's not that different to style among your people, yet you've shunned it here. Why?" Vinyl's question caught Orzel by surprise, it seemed Luna really had caught the woman up on everything... A sudden rush of guilt and shame washed over her, and try as she might, she couldn't hide its effects. "Do you think maybe it makes you feel guilty because it's a 'feminine' thing to do, and those things remind you of an aspect of yourself you've been told to feel ashamed of?"

"No... Maybe...? I do not know." Orzel muttered defensively, watching the sparkling orb of magic dance about the air before her. Luna may have told the Doctor something, but that didn't mean Orzel had to admit to it. On the proverbial back foot, she fell back on her love for books, how their thick bound forms could protect her in that moment. If she threw out enough words and made them sound important, maybe she could throw the counselor off the scent. "They are impractical, and take up valuable time to put on that I could more wisely spend catching up to my scholastic peers." Vinyl smiled knowingly at her, in that same way Luna occasionally did when she knew Orzel was obfuscating. "I am not... That way, okay? I do not know what Mother has told you, but I like boys! How can I like boys and be that way? Why do you care so much?"

"I'm not saying you don't like boys." Vinyl evenly stated, still scribbling down notes on her pad. "I gather you place a lot of stock into science and engineering... Is that right?" Orzel nodded, though she didn't fully see where the counselor was going, or why this particular subject was so important. "If two gears must fit together in order for an engine to work properly, but one of them is misaligned, that engine won't do very well, will it?" Orzel shook her head. "So if a person is at odds with themselves over a matter such as the topic we're discussing, is it not logical to assume that they too would have trouble doing well?"

"Wouldn't you agree that it could make moving on in the wake of tragedy that much more difficult?" The Doctor postulated with that same even, logical tone. Orzel thought for a few moments, running through the Doctor's reasoning, before ultimately sighing in concession. "It's a pressing concern I see right now, and it's something that if we don't catch it sooner, will be incredibly difficult to deal with later. We need to align those gears, however they end up going together, and the first step is to be honest with yourself..."

"You do not understand..." Orzel said defeatedly, looking at the floor and ringing her hands, the orb carrying on its translation. Gradually it became less noticeable, at least from Orzel's perspective... Vinyl still seemed to be following along, thankfully. "If I came out and said I like girls as well as boys before coming here, my Mother and Father would have disowned me. They would not have tried so hard to save me, and maybe they would still be alive..." Her voice cracked slightly, and she realized she was confronting a side of the issue she hadn't even known existed until that very moment. She had survived, and her parents didn't... So long as she maintained the lie, their deaths still held noble meaning. Yet the genie was out of the bottle, and Orzel knew she couldn't stuff it back in.

"Or they would've tried just as hard regardless..." Vinyl offered, briefly setting down her pen and folding her hands into her lap. "Princess Luna told you that being a lesbian or bisexual is accepted here in Equestria, yes? Did she tell you there are still some, even today, that don't accept it?" Orzel shook her head, listening intently as the doctor continued. "I have had several patients in a similar situation to what you've described, they tell their families and for whatever reason are shunned for it... But over time, more often than not, their families come to see that the person they always loved before is still there, and that they are still worth loving."

The teen stared at Vinyl for a few tense moments, then her eyes flitted to one of the windows, her thoughts running faster than her mind could keep up. For the past few months she'd been thinking of her Mother and Father as they had been, staunch traditionalists, inflexible to change of any kind... Caring and loving, but expectant of certain behavior from their only child. Maybe what Vinyl said was a baldfaced lie, just something to help grease the 'gears' and let Orzel take one step closer to accepting herself. Orzel wanted to believe that wasn't the case, that when it really mattered most, her parents would have come to accept her for whoever she was, or whomever she happened to love. Truth or lie, the words had profound impact on Orzel, giving her the final push... Taking a deep breath, Orzel closed her eyes and exhaled.

"I like girls and boys... There, I said it..." She finally admitted, and as the words left her lips a proverbial key was turned. An emotional lock came undone, and Orzel felt as if a great weight was lifted from her shoulders. Saying the words became a little easier, on some deeper level it seemed she'd always known... She couldn't lie to herself anymore. Vinyl smiled at the admission, picking up her pen and pad once more to scribble something down. "I... I have been thinking of myself as a degenerate... Hating myself for being unworthy of saving." The girl leaned hear head back, looking upwards at the ceiling. "I just want to be myself, not subject to the whims of others..."

"Yet another reason I wanted to cover this topic." Doctor Scratch explained, finishing her current note and setting the pad on the arm of her chair. "The National Council may demand adherence to a dress code, but what they can't do is control what's up here... In your mind." The woman tapped the side of her head. "You can exert control over your own mind, and in so doing, make the physical discomforts of the world less bothersome. It will take time to train your mind to think differently, so don't expect results right away." Orzel nodded quietly, once again considering what Vinyl was saying, this time with a little less stress on her mind.

"Now, to change topics, I want to ask you a couple more questions." Doctor Scratch continued. "I want you to be as honest with me as possible, okay?" Orzel nodded. "Given what's happened I'm sure you're not feeling all that positive of late, but... Have you had any thoughts of self-harm or suicide?" The silence that followed was almost deafening, and Orzel visibly leaned back in her chair. After a few moments of hesitant contemplation, she gave the faintest of nods. "Have you acted on any of these thoughts?" Orzel shook her head. "What sort of thoughts are they? Describe them."

"I... Do not really know what to say..." Orzel mumbled quietly, looking at the floor as those thoughts of self-loathing and grief awoke from their slumber. They came sprinting at her, full tilt, no restraint, no remorse, barreling down upon her like a tidal wave. "I miss my Mother and my Father... I miss my home... Flawed as it was, it was my home." Her eyes began to water, and as usual she tried to rein her feelings in... Doctor Scratch merely used her magic to levitate the box of tissues to Orzel, wordlessly imploring her not to fight. "I... I lost everything..." Tears streamed down Orzel's cheeks, her breaths coming in slow shuddering sounds. "On top of that I hate myself, for what I am... I cannot stop feeling that I am a stupid, worthless, garbage person... That my adoptive family is wasting their time." She wiped at her eyes with one of the tissues. "Together it is too much... I have trouble seeing a way out. So... Then the thoughts come... Sometimes I just think about how nice it might be to just... Go to sleep and never wake up...."

"Do you really want to die, or is it more that you don't want to feel that way anymore?" Doctor Scratch's voice was soft but probing, and the distinction she made between the two was one that hadn't occurred to Orzel before. She wasn't entirely sure there was even a difference at first, but as she thought on the matter, it dawned on her that there was... There were times when she wanted nothing more than to see what life had to offer... To study new things, to learn and grow as she never could before.

"I do not want to die, no... I do not want to feel this way anymore... Everything hurts..." Orzel admitted, still allowing the tears to flow freely. "Please... Help me." She squeaked, and for the first time she saw Doctor Scratch's professionalism falter. It quickly reasserted itself, taking hold with an iron will.

"That's why your family brought you here, Orzel. They want to help you. I want to help you too." She declared stoutly, scribbling more in her notes and leaning forward. "To do that, I need to ask you a few more questions, are you feeling up to them?" Despite the emotions surging inside her, Orzel responded with another small nod. "Okay... Would you say that you have problems with other intrusive thoughts? Fear? Dread? Worry?" Orzel nodded again, by now she would be unable to stop crying even if she wanted do. "What, if anything, helps you recover from those thoughts? What do you do to try and take back control?"

"I read... I work on my model ships..." Orzel wiped at her eyes again, then bit her lower lip. "Sometimes I make little scenes for them. Dioramas, I think they are called." The girl sighed heavily, and though the tears flowed, she was managing to better gather her thoughts. "The relief never lasts." The Doctor nodded again, further jotting down her thoughts on her notepad. The girl looked at the window, then back at the floor. "May I ask another question?" The woman nodded. "Sometimes I feel better, excited even... Still, I do not remember what it feels like to be happy. I do not remember if I ever was happy... Am I... Broken?" Doctor Scratch quietly set her pen down.

"You've suffered an unspeakable loss, Orzel... More than that, you find yourself on an entirely different planet, thrust into a situation you never could have hoped to prepare for, even if you knew it was coming." The Doctor stated simply. "Despite all that you've been through, you're still here. You're still holding on, still fighting..." She folded her hands into her lap. "Are you broken...? No. Are you hurting? Absolutely. Who wouldn't be? As for happiness? As I said, you're hurting. It's hard to think about happiness when there's so much pain. In time, as we talk more and more, the pain will fade, and you won't have such a hard time remembering. Unfortunately it's not something that can be rushed, though it can be sped along in here..." The woman gestured about the office, then resumed her note taking.

"Can you tell me about your sleeping and eating habits?" Doctor Scratch continued. "Then we can go over some stress management techniques, as well as some questions regarding other issues your Mother informed me of. Don't worry, we've got plenty of time, so we'll cover them as slow or as fast as you feel comfortable with..." Orzel nodded quietly, folding her hands in her lap. From then on she recounted whatever information the Doctor requested, placing hopeful trust in 'the process'...

In part her cooperation was inspired by the Doctor's professional attitude, but the overall driving force was the simple desire not to hurt anymore. To her continuing surprise, just giving voice to her feelings, letting them flow unabated or restrained, felt just as liberating as admitting to that truth she'd denied herself of late. Here she could speak of the unspeakable, broach the unapproachable, as had never been the case in her old life... As they continued on, speaking of her hopes for her future as a Princess of Equestria, those bitter tears of sadness grew to a more positive light... Orzel resolved to herself that there would be no secrets far as Doctor Scratch was concerned, because in the long run all that would be doing is prolonging her pain...

It was the waiting that Luna hated most, the quiet contemplation, wondering just what was happening beyond that heavy slab of wood that separated her from her daughter. Doctor Scratch was one of the final names on Celestia's list of possible counselors, and ultimately it was fate that had decided it would be she who assumed the role. Her chance interaction with Orzel in Statesman Park, coupled with her extensive experience with 'unusual' cases, all but assured her candidacy. Scratch was also apparently well acquainted with the Music industry, with quite a few well selling albums under a pseudonym, though by her own admission it was more a hobby than anything else... Despite all the Doctor's lofty achievements and glowing recommendations, Luna still felt uneasy leaving her daughter in the care of a nearly complete stranger.

The waiting room was comfortable enough, she supposed, though the choice in magazines was a serious point of contention upon her first meeting with Doctor Scratch. The Doctor was quick to assure her that no such magazines would remain upon Orzel's next visit, though there was little that could be done at the moment. Every journalist and paparazzi squad in Canterlot was hounding Luna's daughter, seeking any sort of 'scoop', and of course spinning it all negatively. They were in the business of selling magazines and newspapers, and the worse something seemed on paper, the more likely it was to sell... It was their photographs that so enraged the Noble Party, which further resulted in the 'decency demands' regarding Orzel's wardrobe and overall appearance. There'd existed considerable push back from the non-aligned members of the National Council, but the opposition was hardly focused enough.

Now Orzel was hardly speaking to either Luna or Celestia, and Luna couldn't really blame her. It was a very disturbing feeling, to be on the other side of the mirror, as it were... So many times Celestia told Luna that she needed to change something about herself for 'the good of the country', yet there she was, doing the same thing to her own daughter for the same vague reason. There were few legal options available to counter the demands, not without incurring the wrath of the National Council's singular unified political party. A few possible bills were put forward, but they'd never pass given the Noble Party's stranglehold. Luna briefly considered a 'sledgehammer' approach, bringing those involved in the plot to block Orzel's ascension to the throne up on charges. That, however, would leave little ammunition to deal with the actual ascension problem if it should arise.

At present there was no other choice but to concede, lest the wheels of government come screeching to a halt. More and more the members of the ironically named Noble Party cultivated the ire of Princess Luna, and now Princess Celestia as well. They'd turned what was supposed to be a legislative body meant to ease the rigors of rule into their own personal clubhouse, recklessly wielding power and bludgeoning their opponents and even the Crown itself with threats of inaction that would leave the nation paralyzed. There was no organized opposition to their power, though the non-aligned councilors consistently put up a decent fight. Were it not for them, Luna had no doubts that Equestria's government would have crumbled under its own weight long ago... Something would need to be done to correct the course, though there seemed little in the way of legal action the Crown could take, short of disbanding the council altogether.

"There is a thought..." Luna mumbled idly, rubbing her chin with mild interest. Disbanding the Council would be a disaster for a whole host of other reasons, as the day to day rigors of running Equestria would then need to be undertaken solely by the Crown. In Equestria's infancy, when it was small and unstable, the system of absolute monarchy worked fine... Now, after more than a thousand years of governmental and territorial growth, direct rule simply wasn't an option. Even so, Luna was well familiar with Equestria's legal system, if there was anyone that could conceive a measured but meaningful response, it would be her. If that failed, she'd just have to bite the proverbial bullet and enrage the Nobles. The woman sighed, shaking her head and looking at one of the magazines on the table beside the couch. Fashion Monthly, a detestable Noble Party rag, hardly worth the paper it was printed on.

Picking it up, she examined the cover, a photograph of her daughter in the Castle Foyer, obviously caught off guard. The main article was, of course, about how the new Crown-Princess dressed like a 'grungy commoner'. Luna didn't dignify the piece by reading it, instead she quietly seethed and tossed the magazine back onto the table. Fashion Monthly was one of the most widely read magazines in Equestria, how many people were reading about her daughter's 'crime of fashion', how many were agreeing with it? Princess Cadenza hadn't faced this much backlash when it was announced she would join the Crown... Then again, Celestia was the one to choose Cadenza, and obviously Celestia could do no wrong in the eyes of the public. Gods only knew just how much damage the outcry would do to Orzel's perception of Equestria's system of government.

Luna shook her head, driving the bitter thought from her mind before it could take root. Instead of focusing on the negative aspects of the situation, she should've been focusing on the positive ones. Orzel didn't want to talk to her, but Luna suspected that would pass given enough time... An idea was taking shape in Luna's mind, one that hopefully Orzel would be on board to help her with. The National Council wanted Orzel to dress and look like a Princess, but a Princess wasn't fully dressed without regalia, so Luna would simply lone the Obsidian Crown to Orzel until they could get a more proper one. Luna's daughter wearing the Obsidian Crown and assorted regalia would end any debate as to her position as Crown-Princess, after all, it was the Party's idea. The Party's worst nightmare would be realized, and it would all be the result of their own posturing.

The doorknob clicked loudly, and as before all eyes in the waiting room darted to the Doctor's office. Luna glanced at a clock on the wall, nearly three hours passed since Orzel first entered the separate chamber. The teen stepped through the door, her eyes bloodshot, her cheeks streaked with tears, yet her mouth curved upwards in a weak saddened smile. Doctor Scratch wasn't far behind, appearing rather pleased as well as she leaned in the doorway. The Princess rose from her seat, just in time for Orzel to walk up to her and wrap her in a tight hug. Luna looked at the Doctor in surprise, but quickly returned the embrace. As if reading Luna's mind, the Doctor spoke first.

"We had a very productive first session..." Declared Scratch with a smile, casually crossing her arms. "Your daughter is remarkably articulate when given the chance to speak properly, you should be proud." Luna blinked in confusion, but noted the Doctor's brief insistent glance at Orzel, who still was tightly hugging Luna.

"Of course I am, I always have been..." The Princess said gently, patting her daughter on the back. She didn't really know what brought her daughter to tears, but this was the happiest Orzel had been in the weeks following her city excursion, though Luna more than suspected she wasn't truly happy. After a few more moments Orzel let go, taking a step back and lifting her glasses to wipe at her eyes. The girl's smile had increased considerably, something that Luna was all too glad to see... She knew she'd made the right choice. "How are you feeling, Dear? Better?"

"Not yet..." Orzel responded in Szafirian, pursing her lips. "But I will get better, with time..." Luna nodded in understanding, it was a mindset she'd had more than a few times in her life. Hearing Orzel say it, however, was a considerable load off of her mind. At first Luna was worried Orzel wouldn't trust the idea of therapy, and without trust in that regard therapy would hardly work, but it seemed she'd been thankfully mistaken in that respect. Given how much the girl tended to read, it was likely Orzel had access to more than enough information to draw her own conclusions, thankfully those conclusions were in the positive. "May I go to the carriage, I am feeling slightly tired..."

"I do not see why not..." Luna responded, glancing to Grim and Fable. The two stoic thestrals hadn't moved an inch from their seats save for when they stood up. "Agents, would you please escort Orzel to the carriage, I had a few questions I wanted to ask Doctor Scratch before I join you." The two agents nodded, walking towards the door and holding it open for Orzel. The girl exited the waiting room with a surprising amount of poise, and her hulking bodyguards weren't far behind, closing the door as they passed from view. Luna's eyes returned to Doctor Scratch, the woman now having adopted a more professional stance in the young Princess's brief departure. "I have not seen her like this before, may I ask what you discussed?"

"Orzel has given me permission to speak to you on certain subjects, those are the only ones I can tell you about." Doctor Scratch stated professionally, gesturing for Luna to follow her back into the office. The Princess followed, taking a seat on the couch while the Doctor resumed her place in her armchair. "She's a very troubled girl, but all things considered that's not necessarily surprising. Her panic attack in the park isn't her first, but thankfully I don't believe she's developed a Panic Disorder... Not yet, at least. That could change if certain things at home don't improve."

"What must I do?" Luna asked without hesitation, earning a genuine smile of admiration from the Doctor.

"She needs her own space, first and foremost. While she has her own room, she doesn't feel like it's really hers, and that leaves her feeling backed into a corner." Doctor Scratch began, picking up a notepad from the table beside her chair and looking it over. "She realizes that, for now, she's unable to dress or look the way she wants to. You're far better aware of the parameters set upon her than I am, but whatever they are, she needs to be able to choose freely within them. More importantly, minimizing the amount of time this interference goes on is vital. She already sees herself in a very negative light, if it isn't stopped soon she could be at risk of a serious self-image crisis." Scratch shook her head, appearing genuinely stumped. "It's inconceivable to me that the Council would care so much about her looks..."

"They don't." Luna stated bluntly, which apparently took Scratch by surprise. "They are using her as a pawn, inflicting their will on her because they know it will get to me." The Princess's eyes narrowed angrily. "I agree, what they are doing should be inconceivable. I tried to show her a better world beyond the Castle walls, a civilized society worth exploring, and this is what she gets for her trouble..." Luna looked back at Scratch, sighing heavily through her nose. "What else can I do?"

"Aside from those changes, keep doing what you've been doing." Scratch stated with a bit more evident understanding, her hands folded neatly in her lap. "From what I've heard she truly enjoys spending time with you, that's not something I hear from most of my adolescent clients." The woman looked once again at her notes.

"Try convincing her to accompany you on outings. It doesn't really matter where, so long as you're with her. Having you present will help build a positive association, and eventually you can start sending her out more on her own. Hopefully by then she won't be as skeptical of the outside world as she is now." The Doctor continued evenly, Luna once again nodded, already pouring over the possibilities in her mind. "Lastly, and this one is important. She needs a more active role as a Princess, beyond just the title. A lot of what she does and how she acts now is viewed through the lens of not only being a Princess, but being your heir, and she takes that responsibility very seriously."

"I have had the same thought..." Luna explained, her mind briefly wandering back to her inner debate in the waiting room. "My Sister and I will find something suitable for her age and ability, I assure you." Doctor Scratch nodded, scribbling a few notes down on the notepad again before tearing the page free and handing it to Luna. It was a list of every change they'd discussed, as well as a few possible 'outings and activities', all very thorough and neatly ordered. A trip to the Opera, the National Museum, a ship christening ceremony, all were certainly doable, though one more so than the others. "I do have one question, Doctor..." Scratch raised an eyebrow. "Is my daughter..." Luna trailed off, trying to think of how best to describe it. It had gnawed at her since the first night Orzel had spent in the Castle, tearing at her peace of mind even as it lingered in the background. "Is she at risk of hurting herself...?"

"Had you brought her in a month or so ago, I would be unable to give a more definitive answer..." Doctor Scratch stated solemnly, placing her hands in her lap. "Her Parents' deaths were obviously very traumatic, and the subsequent crisis of faith didn't help..." The woman leaned forward in her seat, taking on an aspect of the gravest sort. "Your daughter is severely depressed, there's no way I can sugar coat it." Luna inhaled slowly through her nose, processing the statement as best she could.

"She has shared with me that she has thought of hurting herself on several occasions." Scratch declared cautiously. The Princess's blood ran cold, but the Doctor held up a calming hand. "However, having spoken with her so extensively today, I don't believe she's presently at risk." The Doctor's voice grew somber. "She will likely never fully recover from the trauma, but she will hopefully get better in time, and that is all we can try for. You did the right thing getting her help when you did." Luna bit her lip, once again needing more time to process things.

"You are certain she is not in danger...?" The woman's voice was barely a whisper, and Doctor Scratch nodded with that same profession solemnity. "I appreciate you telling me... It is a lot to take in." Luna quietly rung her hands, exhaling through her nose and looking dejectedly at the floor.

"I understand... Of course, if you notice her giving away things, excessive sleeping or lack of sleep, or anything else out of character that you think is cause for concern, I want you to call me. Immediately." The Doctor stated bluntly. "Right now she needs someone in her corner that she can trust to protect her... That someone is you." Luna's features hardened, and within her heart the sprang forth a mighty pillar of resolve unlike any she'd thus far felt before. She'd felt maternal instinct, certainly, but this was something else... Something deeper, more primal, and yet advanced in scope beyond her own comprehension. Orzel was her child, and no one and nothing would ever change that. "I think we've covered all we needed to cover... I look forward to seeing her next week."

"Of course." Luna agreed, standing from the couch and straightening her gown. "If there is nothing further, I would like to return to my daughter." Doctor Scratch nodded genially, gesturing towards the door while flipping through a few sheets of notes she'd apparently taken throughout the session, though Luna couldn't make out any words given the handwriting. The Princess shook her head, part of her knew it wasn't her place to read those notes regardless, but the newly awakened part of her desperately wanted to know. Scratch's handwriting was, however, atrocious... So Luna had little choice but to approach the door. Stopping in the doorway, she looked over her shoulder at the woman in the armchair. "Thank you, Doctor..." With that, she set off once more.

It was a cruel and unending blackness that surrounded his every thought, penetrating every facet of his being. Epic in its size, infinite in its depth, maddening and terrible in its totality. Truly no other word but madness could describe his sorry state, for no sane being could withstand that colorless void of abstract consciousness... How long had he endured its pervasive embrace? Months? Years? Eons? Perhaps it had only been mere moments... Where was his body, how could he feel so frightfully cold and stiff without even the slightest of corporeal form?

So many questions, but these all paled in comparison to the simplest and most profound question of them all... Who was he? It was a something he'd asked himself countless times, yet each time he drew a different answer. Perhaps he was an artist? A scientist? A laborer? The answers seemed so tantalizingly close, yet they passed through his mind like water through a sieve. So many questioning sensations, almost all without answer, except for one... Somehow, despite the unceasing darkness, he sensed... Change. Something was moving, jostling around, shaking the very abyss itself.

"What do you think is happening out there, hmm..? The voice was not his own, and yet it was... The voice of the Other, his perpetual tormentor throughout however long he'd been confined to his hellish existence. Even in a time when they'd been free, the Other had seized control, forcing him further and further into the deepest recesses of his own consciousness. "Really? The silent treatment? That simply won't do... After all, we both know you can hear me, I'm in your head... And I'm not going anywhere." The Other mocked, chuckling maliciously as its presence swirled in the gloom. "I'm thinking of a number between one and fifty! Guess it and I'll leave you alone... For now. Come on, y'know you want to.

He would've pursed his lips, if he had lips, quietly considering just how best to respond... If to respond at all. The Other always cheated, always made a mockery of him... Sometimes he'd manage to cobble together some form of sanity, then he'd remember things... Things from before he'd been locked away. The smell of grass, the cool water of a stream... A lyrical feminine laugh. Those memories managed to keep him from completely falling apart, perhaps it was vain hope of one day hearing those sounds again, finding the source of that laugh that filled his being with contentment and calm... Then, without fail, the Other would come along to ruin things. The Other would shatter his concentration, make some snide remark, scream or laugh at his failings. The methodology mattered little, the outcome was always the same.

Time held little meaning in the blackness, but once again he felt that subtle change, more frequent this time... A change far too weak for the Other to detect. Their prison was weakening... Somehow... To his surprise and abject horror, he heard another voice, this one distant and muffled. Not his own, not that of the Other... Gradually it drew closer, calling out in a tongue that he couldn't quite understand. It sounded familiar, yet so very alien. A woman's voice, yes, that was it... The Newcomer was desperately searching for something. That much he could understand of the twisted tongue... Something precious, something she'd lost... Nothing but silence followed, and for countless spans of madness he struggled to place the language's origin. Once again his concentration was shattered, this time by another voice... Louder, closer... As if it was right next to him.

"Containment precautions are almost complete, Sir." It was a male voice, dark and powerful. He could detect a faint hint of a Thestral accent, a thought that surprised him as it was remarkably sane and reasonable... How had he deduced that fact? How did he recognize the words? The Other was fighting him, and... Something or someone else at the same time. The mocking voice had gone notably quiet, distantly yelling at the Newcomer. Maybe now the Other would torment the Newcomer instead, and leave him alone long enough to form a coherent thought, something more than a memory. "We should be able to keep the artifact contained, for a time at least."

"The Princess doesn't share your optimism, Colonel." A far rougher voice spoke, this one hauntingly familiar. Where had he heard it before? Perhaps one of the meetings? What meetings? He couldn't remember, they were still too fuzzy, but more and more his memory was creeping back to him. If the Other remained away long enough, perhaps he could find a way to communicate with those beyond his infinite prison. Something waved near his head, or what was once his head, and yet it was so very far away. "I fear the current containment vessel will not hold him. You have a matter of months to make the necessary preparations, no more, no less... Get it done." One of the external beings, the 'Colonel', made a hasty departure, but the Second lingered, barely perceptible to his senses. He could smell something, an acrid stench of burning plant matter... "Soon, you and I shall have much to discuss, I suspect... Assuming you're still in there, Old Friend."

The Second departed, much as the Colonel had, with a hasty flurry of movement. So he was left to his thoughts once again, far more coherent than they had been in a long time. In the distance, he could hear the Other, though far quieter than before... Then, like a bolt of lightning, she arrived to the forefront. The Newcomer, the feminine voice, calling out over and over again in a strange draconic dialect... 'Eagle...! Eagle...! Where are you...!?' Why was the Newcomer looking for a bird? He'd finally placed the strange language as at least being Draconic, though the exact kind remained unknown... Her voice was dark and husky, bold and confident, intoxicating in its strength... The language sounded so familiar, so very familiar, why couldn't he remember?!

"You can't be serious...?" The words were his own, when had he said them, who was he talking to? "Damn it, don't you see!? They will undermine everything we've worked to build, whether it's now or a thousand years from now!" Why was he so angry, why was he so... Hurt. He couldn't make sense of any of it, even as images flashed through his consciousness, the first things he'd seen in countless centuries... The images were from different times and places, different meetings, with different people... All blending together. "We've all watched them run their own tribes into the ground, yet she wants to put them in charge of the country?!"

"I can't lose her... Not like this." It was his voice again, and certainly not that of the Other, determined and filled with frustration. "They want new magic... I'll show them new magic." There came a shrieking scrape of metal on metal, clattering steel followed by a strange hissing sound. Everything began to vibrate and jostle about, the prison was moving, far faster this time... Upon something that sputtered and roared like a caged beast. The Newcomer suddenly returned, sounding surprised and alarmed... He still couldn't fully understand her, made all the more difficult because her voice was drowning out the Other, cowing his tormentor into submission... In an instant the Newcomer's voice vanished, and with it the voice of the Other... Why? Why was the Other suddenly so silent? Where was he? Was he truly alone now...? So many damn questions! Pain lanced through his non-existent head, an agonizing migraine of a sort he'd not experienced since before the arrival of the Other... What was happening to him?

"You stole everything from me!" That voice, in his memories, not the Newcomer... The same voice that had laughed so cheerfully before, his only solace throughout so many eons of isolation. Was she so angry because of something he'd done, or was it the Other she screamed at? Who was she talking about? Was it him, was he... Dead? He hadn't considered that possibility before, it would explain why he had no corporeal presence, no means of seeing or interacting. Where was the Other, was he waiting longer than usual, to ruin his concentration more profoundly...? To strip away the hope he'd managed to rekindle in that short amount of time? More questions, no answers... Just... Blackness.

Chapter 8

It was with a growing sense of awe and wonder that Orzel stood at the edge of Platform 21-G, the outermost platform of Canterlot Central Terminal. The building itself was impressive, with vaulted ceilings decorated in the art-deco-neo-classical style typical to most Canterlot architecture. The platform likewise was a construct of steel and concrete, and even that might've fascinated her in its own right, but it wasn't the architecture that held her attention. Standing before her like something out of her wildest dreams was the largest amalgamation of steel and fire she'd ever laid eyes upon. The air was hot and humid, saturated with puffs of white billowing steam.

What she so highly admired was a marvelous monstrosity of mechanical might known in local parlance as a 'locomotive', eclipsing even the greatest machinations conceived of by the comparatively small minds of Imperial scientists and scholars. Like so many other facets of Equestrian life, it relied upon a simple and unassuming concept to function. Steam... From power plants, to factories, warships and merchant vessels. Equestria wasn't alone in this, as several other world powers made use of similar technologies, but none quite to the same extent.

This masterwork of machinery before her put every miniature or functional model Orzel had constructed to shame, and stood as yet another monument to Equestrian technology. She'd spent the better part of the last week researching steam locomotives, as she wanted to know just what sorts of questions to ask of its operators. It'd taken a little more time than she would've liked, but Luna insisted that she take time out of the day to make sure she ate properly and to play at least one game of chess... The woman had been acting exceptionally attentive in the days following Orzel's first few therapy sessions, though the girl supposed she should've expected as much...

Thick black smoke vented through a skylight above, blotting out the morning sun, while the titanic locomative's valves hissed passively like a den of cobras. The soft thrum of the locomotive's boiler and occasional jets of steam gave life to the otherwise immobile steel colossus. The air was filled with an odor of thick coal dust and oxidizing metal, which to most might've seemed unpleasant. Like the scent of asphalt, however, the locomotive's hot ashen breath served only to remind Orzel of progress previously undreamt of... A brass headboard at the locomotive's front depicted the raised letters 'MIDNIGHT COMET', and above this slab of metal was one of the locomotive's bells. At the center of the locomotive's face was a massive solitary headlight, its luminous golden beam cutting through the ambient smoke and steam like the eye of a mighty cyclops.

It was with the aid of this enormous locomotive that Orzel would arrive at the location of her first official Royal Duty, the christening of the newest and largest warship in the world, launching from the Neighport News Naval Shipyard. The ship was a new type, never before seen on the waves, considered little more than theory before the advent of sufficiently advanced fixed wing aeroplanes. The fittingly classified 'Aircraft Carrier' would be the first of its kind, a cutting edge first strike platform with which Equestria would further cement its dominance upon the world's oceans. Orzel had already completed a model of the ship, non-functioning of course, and what she could glean of its its technical specifications left quite an impression.

Of course, much of the Equestrian Admiralty didn't see it that way, and so the project repeatedly needed to be saved from the scrap heap by Princess Luna. Indeed, it was only through Luna's continued advocacy that the ship was even being completed, as the contract was temporarily canceled by the Defense Appropriations Committee. The controversial rescue of the carrier was also the topic of numerous heated debates between Luna and Aunt Celestia, typically during their nightly family dinners for the past few weeks. In fact the ship had been so close to the scrapyard that only recently was it given an official name beyond 'Luna's Folly'.

Despite being 'too young' to understand the complex nuance of geo-politics, Orzel nonetheless gave a great deal of attention to the matter, though outwardly she rarely went beyond idly listening in. On the few occasions she'd spoken up she had taken Luna's side, and not only because Luna was her Mother. A cursory examination of recent history showed Equestria wasn't the military juggernaut it purported to be, indeed Luna's return as 'Nightmare Moon' was a perfect demonstration of why a strong military was vital should another crisis arise. The discussion on the true identity of Nightmare Moon was understandably awkward for Luna, but Orzel didn't consider it important enough to dwell on. After all, Luna wasn't Nightmare Moon anymore. That Luna approached the conversation in a measured and straightforward manner helped considerably...

What was more important to Orzel, perhaps to an extent that even Luna didn't realize, was a command of the air well beyond that afforded by Pegasi. Pegasi were well and good for small operations, but they could hardly do any appreciable damage to ground targets. Airships, at least those employed by Equestria, couldn't risk bombing missions because of their susceptibility to enemy ground fire. Yet despite all these apparent disadvantages, trumpeted repeatedly by those opposing the carrier's completion, Orzel knew that air power both on land and on the sea would prove to be the new supreme advantage in Modern Warfare. An aircraft carrier was therefore essential to safeguarding Equestria and her interests around the globe. This had been her position in those dinner arguments...

Though much of the world still resembled what Orzel might expect of Szafiria or its various neighbors, there nonetheless existed a steadily increasing arms race among Equestria's would-be rivals. Rapidly advancing technology meant new players regularly stepped onto the field, all with differing visions for the future, all eager to upset the balance of power in their favor. It was one race that Equestria couldn't afford to lose, and it would've been so much easier to win if Aunt Celestia and the National Council wasn't hamstringing the Pro-Militarists all the time. At least, that was what she'd overheard from the Generals that occasionally walked past her room, Luna's occasional tutoring on the finer points of governance, and her own research into Equestrian history.

All of Orzel's research further revealed to her the relative ineptitude of Equestria's current government, which as of yet was still failing to redeem itself. Celestia meant well, Orzel knew that, but her Aunt hadn't seen first hand what happened to a country if the military was unprepared. So much could be lost in an instant, so many lives snuffed out... She doubted if the Imperial Garrison of Cesarski would've survived, even if it was sufficiently as well equipped as the Equestrians, but with a competent Army Air Corps to support troops on the ground they would've stood a much better chance. The aircraft carrier would certainly have been more than large enough to evacuate more people, and less susceptible to being swamped by the creatures...

Orzel closed her eyes, then took an exceptionally deep breath, visualizing herself in the Castle library, gently easing her memories from her mind. She had her first royal duty too look forward to, the launch of that great and powerful ship, and for the moment that was enough to keep her grounded. The ship's name been a further point of contention at dinner, albeit a minor one, as it was a very 'Un-Equestrian' name. One that Orzel knew quite well, something very close to her heart... That Luna chose to accept the name had a profound effect on Orzel, and the fact that she would be the one to christen the ship under that name would be... Cathartic. That was the word Doctor Scratch had used in their latest session. The newest and most powerful warship in the world, with which Equestria would remain unmatched at sea, would be named Sokol...

It was fitting, given the ship's aviation focus, as the name Sokol meant 'Falcon' when translated to Equestrian. Celestia initially resisted the idea when first put forward, but Luna made a very compelling case. In the few short minutes she'd spent in Equestria before her death, Sokol more than exemplified the very height of duty and protection. The Nocturne Agency was overdue in releasing her body, and even when it eventually did, there was no one qualified to perform Vindictan funeral rites. Therefore, naming a powerful warship seemed a sufficient alternative. Orzel knew with certainty that Sokol would've liked that very much, as in the Empire to have a ship named after you was a tremendous an honor, especially for a Vindictan Shield Matron. It was that fact that sealed the deal for Celestia, even if the true enormity of the name would be lost on the wider Equestrian public.

The mixture of her thoughts and the rhythmic venting of steam had entranced Orzel, she only hoped the dark sooty smoke of the locomotive wouldn't necessitate a change in wardrobe. Finding a blouse and skirt that were both to her liking and 'formal' enough to satisfy the National Council was difficult. Today she'd chosen a navy blue dress with a white sash and gloves, two colors favored by the Equestrian Navy, though they were rather appealing in their own right. It required a considerable 'mental readjustment', as Doctor Scratch so eloquently put it, but Orzel finally reached an equilibrium of emotional stability. She didn't hate 'dressing up' anymore, it actually might've felt rather nice under different circumstances, but the National Council's meddling never ceased to hamper her desire to make her wardrobe more... Outlandish. Purely out of spite.

Their bothersome nature was unlikely to change given the other items she'd selected to wear to the ceremony, Luna had explained her plan and Orzel was all too eager to accept. Even with a few spells to adjust the size, the crown that now resided upon her head was still slightly too large. Orzel therefore elected to tie her hair up into a bun, the loose knot of which having solved the problem of the crown falling over her eyes. The Royal Jewelers were already in the process of making a crown more her size, but for now the Obsidian Crown and accompanying pageant necklace would suffice as her 'badges of office'. Seeing her in Luna's regalia would also likely make a few Nobles' heads explode... At least, figuratively speaking.

It was hard not to blame the Noble Party for ruining her every waking moment since first venturing out into Canterlot, with the exception of her visits to her therapist's office. Not only dictating what she could wear, but how she could do her hair, what makeup she could use... Even going so far as to actually try to tell her what rooms of the Castle she could and couldn't choose for her own. Celestia thankfully put her foot down on that one, as what happened within the Castle's residential sections was well out of the jurisdiction of the National Council.

The entire ordeal left a bad taste in Orzel's mouth, and she wasn't going to choose a new room until she was certain she wouldn't be forced to move as soon as she got settled in. If she had her druthers, every member of the Noble Party would be booted out of the National Council without so much as time to pack the contents of their desks... Not seriously... She just wanted them to know how it felt...

"Are you ready to leave, Orzel?" Luna's voice abruptly drew the girl's mind once more to the outside world, though it was rather odd, as Luna seldom addressed her in Equestrian. Glancing to her right, she saw the stately regal form of her Mother stepping out of a cloud of steam. It was almost bizarre, seeing Luna without the Obsidian Crown or necklace. Instead she wore a crown of bright glittering silver, upon which beads of condensation gradually started to form. The crown itself was likely one borrowed from Aunt Celestia, given its almost cheerful appearance, modified to display Luna's iconic crescent moon. "The engineer is preparing to get under way."

"I believe I have stared long enough, yes..." Orzel responded in Equestrian, a far easier feat now than a few weeks before. In preparation for the christening ceremony she devoted large amounts of her day to constantly practicing the language, and though Orzel still occasionally needed to repeat herself, she at least was able to clearly pronounce the words that at one time had felt so alien to her lips. It hadn't been easy, retraining her brain to 'think' in Equestrian and Szafirian. She took great pride in finally being able to hold normal conversation, though she preferred more often than not to stick with her 'Mother Tongue', as Equestrian made her lips tingle oddly when she spoke. Thus, her accent remained frustratingly thick. "I do not suppose I can convince you to let me observe the locomotive under power?"

"Perhaps on the return journey, if the engineer is willing." Responded Luna, gesturing through the thick billowing steam to the rear of the locomotive. Orzel could just make out the outline of the train cars beyond the engine's tender, where two familiar behemoths stood waiting. The tender itself was as black in color as the locomotive, accented by large brass lettering that proudly spelled out the locomotive's name... Midnight Comet. The train was one of two owned by the Crown, this one in particular being under Luna's direct command... "Come along now, we have little time to dawdle."

Orzel reluctantly followed Luna as she passed the first navy blue rail car, the occupants of which were Nocturne Agents and a contingent of Lunar Marines. The second car was where Luna and Orzel would spend the majority of their time, a comfortably decorated space with a table and several couches. The other cars contained facilities such as sleeping quarters, a kitchen, and what Luna had called a Mobile Situation Center... In the odd event a National Crisis arose while they were on the move.

It was all by Luna's orders, she decided what cars did and didn't come with them... Oh, the thought of being able to do as she wanted, how it tormented Orzel day and night. To her the train was another item to idly fantasize about and, like an automobile or motorcycle, another vehicle she wouldn't mind owning for herself one day... Though she looked more with an eye towards operating it as her own, shoveling the coal, tending the water pressure, controlling where she went and at what speed she got there. The thought of so much steam, thousands of pounds per square inch, driving so many tons of heavy steel at blistering speeds... All of it subject only to her whims... No Nobles, no need to dress up or do her hair a certain way, just a chance for her to just marvel at engineering in action.

Orzel signed quietly, shaking her head as she stepped onto a wooden stool beside the rail car's front entrance. It was nice to dream of being in control, to ponder just what it would be like to be treated like an actual person, or at the very least treated with respect. Looking forward to that day was one of the things that helped to pull her out of a fairly dark place recently. Luna held the door open for her, allowing the girl to enter the rail car and take in her surroundings. Luna's train had a distinctly nocturnal aesthetic, cool blue walls, deeply stained wood flooring, navy blue upholstery... All the other cars shared that same basic appearance, though they varied in minor details. The teen took a seat on the sofa nearest to the front of the train, the closest she could conceivably get to the locomotive for the moment, short of standing outside. Grim and Fable didn't enter the car, likely instead entering the Security Car ahead of them.

Her eyes darted around out of instinct, much as they had in months prior when the threat of the MIS still loomed in her mind. This time, however, her paranoid searching of the area was for any sign of nobility, or someone possibly working for the Noble Party. Equestria espoused freedom and liberty, things that Orzel initially came to treasure about her new life. Those rights should have, but apparently didn't, applied to her as well... The author Statesman had been right when he'd compared the Council to a cartel of spoiled children, playing with people's lives as if they were alphabet blocks... They'd been spared the rod for far too long, now more than ever the sniveling curs needed to be disciplined and brought to heel. Of course Aunt Celestia and Luna wouldn't do that, much as she loved them, Orzel could see they didn't understand what needed to be done.

This new view of the National Council had been spurred by Statesman's third book, entitled 'Rogue State'. It had been improperly cataloged in the Castle Library, fortunately she was persistent, or else she might've never found it. Who could do something so foolish as to misplace a book in that most hallowed hall? Just thinking about that stoked a fire in her belly, she was told it was yet another result of her delayed Draconic Adolescence. Every small slight, no matter how petty, received a direct line to the rage center of her brain...

The large slights and outright insults were almost overpowering in the amount of ire they stoked. Over the course of the past month she'd acquired enough axes to grind that she could make a tidy profit selling her grudges to lumberjacks. The overwhelming majority of them were the result of those petulant worms that called themselves 'Councilors'... By Vindicta, words could not do justice to how much she loathed them... As if to punctuate the building fury, Orzel heard the deep baritone wail of the locomotive's engine outside, half expecting it to be steam venting from her ears.

"Orzel..." Luna's warning voice finished tearing the girl out of her spiraling anger, back into the moment. Luna was seated across from her with a look of motherly concern, something that helped to further dissipate Orzel's anger. Glancing down at herself, Orzel swiftly spotted the cause, as she'd clenched her fists on the fabric of the sofa with such intensity that it had ripped open, exposing the cushion and several springs beneath. She'd forgotten just how strong she'd become, another result of the draconic blood coursing through her veins. "Relax."

"I am sorry..." The girl responded, sighing through her nose and closing her eyes. "In my anger, my temper has slipped, let my essence mend what I have ripped..." She didn't need to open her eyes to hear the tell tale sound of her magic as it mended the upholstery, as if it had never been torn. Trembling with lingering hostility, the girl took several deep breaths and focused on the simple sensations around her. The steady hiss of steam, the chair contouring to her back, the cool glass on her cheek as she leaned her head against the window. As much as she hated her treatment at the hands of the National Council, she hated losing her temper even more. Giving into her indignation felt good in the moment, but seldom did her any favors once that moment had passed. More often than not she ended up feeling exhausted, both emotionally and physically. Orzel opened her eyes, looking dejectedly at the floor. "I did not mean to become so heated..."

"I know, but you must take care to remember your own strength." Luna accepted gently, a few moments later the locomotive let out another droning whistle, lurching forward with abrupt force. Slowly, laboriously, the train started along down the tracks. Despite their slow start, it wasn't long before they commenced to traveling at a higher rate of speed. Shortly the platform of Canterlot Central Terminal passed out of view, giving way to a series of parallel tracks that branched off to different lines. Some were occupied by other trains with still boarding passengers, but at this early hour most were empty. "What vexes you this time...?"

"Must you ask?" Orzel asked, leaning her head back and listening to the quickening 'clickity-clack' of the train's wheels. Despite not wanting to answer, both Luna and Doctor Scratch made it clear that bottling up her emotions was not a healthy solution. Discussing the cause was easier said than done, as much as she wanted to shut Luna out... After all, her Mother was part of the issue, something Orzel had been trying to make clear since the first round of 'Demands' from the National Council. "You said you are a fan of Statesman... Have you read Rogue State?" Luna was quiet for a few moments, visibly cringing at the mention of the title. "I will take that as a yes."

"Indeed, I have..." Luna admitted, looking more worried than Orzel had ever seen the Princess before. Fearing she just stepped onto a proverbial landmine, the teen braced herself for some sort of lecture about how 'things have changed'... That was the line constantly forced down Orzel's throat, despite blatant evidence to the contrary. Her sadness and powerlessness over the course of the past few weeks was gradually converting itself to a deeply buried rage, a harsh reality only amplified by continued excuses on the part of her adoptive family. "Damning as the story may seem, however, you must understand the context in which it was written..." Orzel raised an eyebrow, leaning forward with unmistakable interest. "At the time he published Rogue State, Statesman had been personally wronged by the Tribal Council... In a very profound way. It is little more than the expression of that frustration, not a call to topple the government."

"Saying I am similarly frustrated with the council would be a gross understatement, Mother." Emphatically declared Orzel, exhaling through her nose in an effort to maintain her calm. She could see a growing concern in Luna's eyes, apparently something she'd said had shaken her Mother's nigh unbreakable stoic mask. "Can you say with certainty that we are better off with their existence? You and Doctor Scratch both say that I should trust that you will protect me, but when the Council imposes their will on me what do you do...? You say 'That is the way it must be for now, for the good of Equestria you must endure!' or 'It is only temporary, Orzel. Just hold on!'." Once again Luna cringed.

"I could endure through gritted teeth if what they demanded meant the safety of our people. I cannot promise I would not complain, but if lives were on the line I would endure! That is the duty you charged me with, is it not?!" Orzel felt a growing burning sensation in her stomach, breakfast likely wasn't agreeing with her. "This is not a matter of the survival of our people and you know it! It is about appeasement! I ask where does this end? At what point do they go beyond the pale?! If they have such control over my life, how are they any better the Empire I left behind?!" For a brief moment she thought she heard an animalistic growl pass her lips, but it was surely too deep a sound to come from her. "Will they choose next who I am to court, who I am to marry? How much of my personal life must I submit to their control before you stand with me, if you stand with me at all!?"

Orzel was so angry... So very very angry... She hadn't realized she was yelling, or that tears were forming in her eyes, until she saw the abject horror in Luna's own cerulean orbs... What could she have said to make her Mother so frightened? What prompted Luna to just stare at her, her jaw moving up and down like a fish pulled freshly onto the pier. The unflappable, implacable, indomitable Princess of the Night seemed utterly petrified. For the first time in months Orzel feared she was the one to have gone too far, that she said or done something that would prompt Luna to disown her, or worse...

Then Luna's eyes began to glimmer, and not in an arcane fashion... They were tears, tears that poured silently down Luna's cheeks, staining the fabric of her gown before she ultimately rose to her feet. In a matter of moments Orzel's anger was extinguished, replaced by overwhelming guilt and remorse, and once again the girl found it hard to meet her Mother's gaze.

"My dear... Sweet... Beautiful daughter..." Luna said brittly, crossing the distance between the two of them and sitting beside her. "When I was slightly older than you, eighteen or so, I asked the same questions of my Sister..." Orzel tensed as Luna raised her hand, fearing that she would feel the sting of a slap, but the slap never came. Luna instead wiped a tear from Orzel's cheek, then unfurled a wing from her back that pulled her daughter close, comforting her with its warmth and soft feathers. "The answers I received were... Devastating. It started me down a path of darkness, from which there was little hope of escape." Luna shook her head, looking at the floor, pondering something. With remarkable conviction, the woman set her jaw and wiped her eyes. "I have allowed the Council to dictate your life as it was dictated to me, for the same reasons that Celestia recited, and for that you have my deepest apologies. The pain I endured must stop with me, lest that same darkness take hold in your heart, or worse... Damn the Council, let them riot if they so desire, but I am your Mother and I say enough."

Orzel felt Luna's wing lift from her shoulder, at which point the woman rose from the seat and straightened her gown. Orzel couldn't be certain as to what that 'darkness' her mother spoke of was, but she could guess. The fear, the horror, the faint recognition in her Mother's eyes... She was a smart girl, it didn't take long for her conclude that Luna spoke truth when she said saw something of herself in Orzel's plight. The girl still felt like the absolute lowest heel in the world, despite her Mother's comforting words. She wasn't sure how to feel about the implied tie to Nightmare Moon, but Luna left her little time to further speculate as she started towards the door at the rear of their private car.

"I must contact Celestia in the MSC..." Luna said, her calm facade having reasserted itself by this point. She stood beside the door, clasping her hands behind her back, just as poised and composed as she'd ever been. The jump from frightened to cool, considerate, and collected was astonishing... Yet at the same time not surprising, Orzel knew Luna had hundreds, if not thousands, of years to perfect the art of creating a false appearance. "If you so desire, I urge you to choose anything from the wardrobe in your car, regardless of if it pleases the Council or not. Use your best judgment, of course..."

Orzel stared at Luna for a few moments, it was her turn to look like a gasping fish, honestly shocked Luna conceded the point so readily. Ultimately she nodded and rose from her seat as well. Luna's eyes concealed something from her, at least at first. As general irritability had become more or less her default emotion, she'd become far more adept at spotting anger in others. Despite her Mother's careful attempt to conceal the look of building rage, Orzel could see it all too clearly. Thankfully, it wasn't directed at her. Luna opened the door, the continuous 'clickity-clack' of the wheels against the rails becoming instantly clear. Orzel followed hesitantly, stepping out onto the rear platform, looking at the articulated catwalk that spanned the short gap to the next car.

In that moment it felt as if her earlier outburst was but a distant memory, for her attention had been captured by world around the trundling vehicle. The landscape was rapidly changing as the train started down the Canterhorn, with the majority of Canterlot fading into the distance, replaced by a verdant wall of conifers and other mountain flora on the train's left. They all blurred together with the train's growing speed, but even that impressive sight couldn't compare with what Orzel saw when she looked to the right. Stretching out to the very horizon, she saw nothing but tree clusters and pastoral fields. Autumn was in full swing, and so the grass had gradually started to darken, but that was not what struck the Princess so profoundly. The trees were transitioning from green to progressive shades of scarlet, amber, and earthy brown...

The girl had experienced autumn before, but never did she behold so many trees on such a vast scale, and especially never with such clarity afforded by her spectacles. Luna finished crossing to the next car's platform, then turned to offer Orzel her hand. It took all her willpower to tear her eyes from that beautiful vista, but ultimately she managed to cross the gap. This particular car was her own, and so as Luna continued on to the next doorway Orzel instead stayed upon the platform. She paid little attention to the car itself, at least for the moment. Its interior was opulently decorated like the rest of the train, hardly worth her attention when compared to the natural splendor beyond its rattling walls. The wind against her face was chilling, and thus they gradually took on a notable red tint, but she didn't care to move for the moment...

Eventually her mind returned to the brief conversation she'd had with Luna in the main car, and as it did she was overtaken by a sense of fear. Did Luna think she was plotting some sort of coup d'etat, as with Nightmare Moon in the past. Was that what she meant by a 'dark path', or did she mean something else? It was unimaginable to Orzel to betray a woman that had so readily taken her in, but did Luna know that...? Biting her lower lip, the Princess concluded this was likely a matter better discussed with Doctor Scratch. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and committed the picturesque landscape to memory.

With that she turned and entered her personal car, pondering on just what clothes to change into, if any. The gown she wore she actually rather liked from a style perspective, though she was reconsidering the blue coloration and white sash. This was her first chance to dress like 'royalty' of her own volition, and she wanted it to be as close to perfect as possible. Approaching a full sized mirror beside her bed, she spun around before frowning slightly and shaking her head. The journey to Neighport News Naval Yard would take the better part of a day and the ceremony would be held tomorrow, so she would have a night to think on the matter at least...

For now, she saw no need to dress so formally, and only did so for the sake of any photographers that might've hounded her on the trip from the Castle to Canterlot Central Terminal. It was high time, she decided, that she return to comfort and simplicity. Her typical tunic and trousers would be far more suitable. Perhaps then she'd be able to convince Luna to let her go up to observe the locomotive in action, assuming the Engineer and Fireman were willing... That would have to wait until Luna actually returned, however. For now, there was little she could do but change. Afterwards maybe she'd tinker with something, there were a few enchanting projects she'd packed for the trip, just in case she needed to pass the time. They were projects she hadn't told Luna about, after all she knew what she was doing and they weren't that dangerous. Mostly... She'd take proper safety precautions of course. With that in mind, Orzel set to her task...

A soft blue glue illuminated the darkly tinged MSC, originating from a small crystalline orb inset at the center of a long wooden table. Several chairs lined either side, though they remained unoccupied for the moment. Princess Luna was seated in her spot at the head of the table, her fingers laced together as she patiently awaited the response of her sister. With the curtains drawn over the windows, there was little for the woman to focus on but the faintly glowing sphere of light. Her mind in the meantime wandered to and from the darker reaches of her consciousness, as she was unsure as to just what she was supposed to feel... The discussion with Orzel proved a startling experience for which she hadn't been prepared, a glimpse into the mirror of her own past, and all the hurt and bitter resentment she'd at one time shared...

Luna had thought that with both her and Celestia's guidance, they might be able to lessen the damage done to Orzel's spirits by the Noble Party. Appeasing the Noble Party seemed the more pressing concern, keeping Equestria's legislative body functioning had been paramount, but Luna could no longer do so in good conscience. Doctor Scratch's haunting warning was omnipresent in her mind, and no amount of governmental efficiency was worth placing her daughter's continued mental well being at risk. The pain in her daughter's eyes frightened her so, because she could sense the very same rage feeding it that she once knew in intimate detail. It was an emotional agony she wouldn't wish upon anyone, even her worst enemy, and yet she was inflicting it upon the person she had grown to love more than anyone or anything.

There was another reason that the growing resentment set her on edge, one that was far more likely to have wide reaching impact across Equestria as a whole. She'd seen more than just the frustration and resentment, but also a glimmer of magic in her daughter's eyes, more so than the typical dim glow. It burned as but a brief flickering flame, but in those few moments it was present Luna sensed an unspeakable danger, a towering fire of cataclysmic proportions, epic in scope and nigh-unquenchable in its terrible fury.

The 'Elemental Transformation', as the Draconic Institute apparently called it... When an adolescent Drake reached adulthood, or if they were sufficiently provoked before then, their rage would allow them to transform to their true dragon form. It lay dormant for now, and Luna hoped the slumber of that monstrous Draconic rage would go undisturbed for as long as possible. They'd have to tell Orzel as she drew closer to her eighteenth birthday, prepare her for what to expect, just... Not yet. She was still in far too fragile a state. One thing Luna knew for certain was that if ever someone roused the beast within, accidentally or otherwise... She would have profound pity for them.

Orzel was gradually growing to better control her magic, soon she would need only speak a short phrase without rhyming, and Gods only knew how much more refined it would become after that. As she shared Luna's arcane signature, that magic would become immensely powerful as she matured. The thought of her little girl's heart turning to darkness, of her entering a permanent state of Elemental Transformation, was paralyzing. To think that she, as Orzel's Mother, might inadvertently bring about the rise of the next 'Nightmare Moon' was even more so frightening, to say nothing of the other unthinkable alternative... The thought of her daughter being consumed by emotion was far preferable to that of her daughter being consumed by her darker thoughts... No, Luna would not stand for that, not in any way shape or form.

Setting her jaw firmly, the woman's eyes narrowed upon the sphere, as if silently trying to will it into action. To her surprise and relief, the crystal at the center of the table suddenly flickered brightly. It rose of its own volition from its cradle, levitating at around Luna's eye level, before casting several pale rays of blue light into the seat to the Princess's immediate right. Turning in the seat as best she could, considering it was bolted to the floor, Luna readied herself for what was likely to be an uncomfortable conversation. Celestia's image materialized from the light a few seconds later, arriving with a pleasant smile, though it faded when she saw the seriousness with which Luna sat.

"I'm sorry I didn't respond sooner, what's wrong?" Celestia asked, her voice distorted slightly by the arcane projector. Luna stared for a few moments more, pondering on just what to say, before sighing through her nose and shaking her head ever so slightly. Would Celestia even care if Luna told her what was happening, or rather, would she care in the same way that Luna did? Her elder sister always tended to put Equestria's status quo first, and that was fine in most circumstances. This time, however, putting the good of the status quo first had become the very core of her current concern. "Luna? Can you hear me alright?"

"Yes, Sister... Forgive me, I was lost in thought." Quickly answered Luna, pursing her lips and looking at the table. "I have just had a disturbing conversation with Orzel." Celestia raised an eyebrow, her smile replaced by a look of unmistakable concern. Luna took a deep breath, observing her sister's body language more intently. Celestia had changed a great deal since the years of their youth, and though she would likely push back, Luna had to trust that her sister would this time, finally, take her side on an issue. "We were discussing the National Council and their demands, and she said something... Something that worries me greatly." The woman anxiously drummed her fingers against the polished surface of the table. "As a result, I am informing you that as of now, as her Mother, I will no longer be adhering to their demands. Nor shall I force her to do the same."

"Luna..." Celestia started, appearing unsure of how best to continue. "We've discussed this, it's only temporary, I am close to a solution with the Nobles. It will take some further concessions, but they'd be temporary." Something broke in Luna's mind, something that in hindsight was close to breaking for a very long time. Every night she'd listened to the plight of her subjects, every petition for legal remedy and request for assistance... All of it came flooding back to her. Now those very same people that accosted her subjects were trampling upon her daughter's life, and Celestia was telling her to wait... Again... In an instant the last of Luna's patience boiled away, and when next she spoke it was with furious thunder. "I just need you to trust-"

"I will not!" Luna bellowed, her voice rattling the windows and causing Celestia to cover her ears. Trying to compose herself, and in the process allowing her sister to recover from the likely ringing in her ears, Luna took several deep breaths. "I saw something in her eyes, Celestia... The pain... The anger." Luna shook her head more emphatically as realization dawned in Celestia's eyes. "I do not believe Orzel realized it, but I am all too familiar with such things." Likely without thinking, Celestia's reached out to rest a hand on Luna's shoulder, only for it to phase right through the younger woman. "I am not certain I could survive, if she were to turn as I had, or... Gods forbid she does something else... So it must stop, here and now. No further concessions, no compromises. The Nobles have found the line and crossed it. On this point I will not be moved. You understand that, right?"

"Of course I do..." Celestia responded with clear solemnity, resting her hand back in her lap. "I didn't see the signs once and it cost me so many years without you, I won't make the same mistake a second time." Luna breathed a sigh of relief, her anger and frustration rapidly cooling, replaced with a feeling of vindicated triumph. It didn't last long, however, as she saw that Celestia was looking off to the side, her eyes distant. Sensing that her sister was in the midst of a deep thought, Luna opted to remain quiet until the woman was ready. "The Grand Galloping Gala is set for a month or so from now, the invitations have yet to be sent..." That was not the statement Luna had been expecting, but Celestia wasn't prone to non-sequiturs, so she assumed their had to be some sort of point to it. "I will announce today that the National Council has thoroughly overstepped its bounds. Those that object will not receive an invitation... I will not reward their behavior. If the Noble Party refuses to attend sessions of the National Council in protest, I will instruct the Senior Councilor to hold 'Special Sessions' in their absence. He will not be pleased, but I believe I can convince him."

"Perhaps then the Non-Aligned Councilors will be able to make some headway for once." Luna said with a nod, smiling faintly at the thought of the Noble Party cutting its nose off to spite its face. "I am sorry I raised my voice, Sister..." Celestia shook her head, returning a smile of her own understanding. "I will also advise Orzel on how to best approach the issue in her address at the christening. As her first official act, there will be many news outlets seeking comment... Hopefully some will broadcasting on the radio, so the nation may hear her words without an editors interference."

"It will be a difficult few weeks ahead of us, but they will be nothing compared to what we might face in alternative, if you truly believe what you saw..." Celestia agreed, trailing off and casting a downward glance to the floor. "Speaking of difficult weeks ahead, I've been in contact with Director Aquila. He's requested an experienced enchantress to help with Project Tartarus, I've dispatched Twilight Sparkle to assist him." Luna quirked an upward eyebrow at that, but Celestia waved dismissively. "She was all too eager to accept, the prospect of applying protective enchantments proved most enticing... We're hopefully on track to completing the project a week or so after the Grand Galloping Gala."

"You are certain young Twilight can be trusted with the sensitive nature of her current task?" Luna asked cautiously, to which Celestia merely nodded. "I hope your confidence is not misplaced, Sister. I can only imagine the panic that would ensue were she to let slip that we intend to reason with Discord..." The woman trailed off, resting her head in her hands as she leaned on the table. It still felt bizarre that such a thing would even be attempted, but so long as the risk of other Extra-Planar threats remained, what choice was there? If they failed, their only recourse would be to re-contain him and deal with whatever crisis emerged blindly... That raised another worry. "What of her companions, the other Element Bearers, can their discretion be assured?"

"Yes, Director Aquila wanted me to tell you that the problem is well in hand. He will be handling any issues that arise personally." Soothed Celestia, thankfully with enough confidence to let Luna's mind relax for the moment. There were few members of the Elements of Harmony she feared to be security risks, but a healthy dose of caution was necessary when dealing with matters of National Security. The only one she worried would really run her mouth was Pinkie Pie, perhaps Luna would need to have Aquila prepare a memory redaction... Just in case. "He also informed me that he will be authorizing the release of Sokol z Glosem-Smoka's sword upon your return, though he's still fighting me on the subject of her actual remains and other affects."

"It is at least a start, I am certain Orzel will be pleased to have her family sword returned. The Director means well, but he has always been stubborn." Luna agreed, straightening and taking a more serious posture within her seat. The Director was one of the few people that Luna actually recognized upon her return from the Moon, though not 'officially'. He was just as enigmatic now as he'd been a thousand years before, when first he'd founded the Nocturne Agency at Luna's behest. It had been just the Princess and two Agents at the beginning, the Director and Observos the Watchful. Together with Luna, they carried on with notions of youthful idealism, and naive patriotism, thinking they could protect Equestria from the unseen threats of the arcane. Many rogue Spell-Casters sought to undermine the tentative peace between the tribes, and there were many incidents that ultimately needed to be 'expunged' from history for the sake of Equestria's future. Some, Luna was sure, that even she didn't know about.

Their efforts were more or less successful, at least at first, but gradually they uncovered more and more of the founders' true natures. That was when their focus shifted more towards internal security... Not of the sort practiced by the Szafirian MIS, more like protecting Equestria from threats within its own government, be they mundane or arcane... The Spell-Casters and Pegasi proved to be the groups that, more often than not, had would-be traitors within their ranks. With every secret uncovered by the Agency, Luna had found herself placing less trust in Tribal Council. The ancient precursor to the National Council was just as much a thorn in Luna's side as its modern equivalent. So much about the world had changed since Observos... Since Observos was lost... Since her fall from grace... Technology advanced, the last rogue wizards were finally defeated, and she had become Mother to Orzel... Yet the more things changed, the more they stayed the same...

"She scared me... You know?" Distantly declared Luna, Celestia gave a sad smile, nodding almost imperceptibly. Of course her sister knew, Celestia lived it just as Luna was in that moment, only now with the benefit of hindsight. The discussion about Discord inevitably stirred a sense of mourning, that coupled with her recent concern over Orzel, she could not bare to keep to herself any longer. "She has been reading more and more... So much that she managed to find Rogue State, despite your efforts to 'misplace' it..." Standing from her seat, Luna approached one of the windows and raised the blinds, staring out at the distant autumn landscape. "It has me thinking about Observos..." Her posture tensed. "One-thousand-seven, that is how many years he shall have been gone, come the running of the leaves." Luna wiped a tear forming in her eye, her voice brittle. "I still find it difficult to accept... The idea of working with Discord..."

"I know, but..." Celestia began, her hologram rising from the seat and approaching to stand beside Luna. "You've carried that anger for so long, Sister..." Luna nodded quietly, reaching up to her head and removing the crown that rested there. Running her hands over the smooth silver, she could see her mournful expression in its polished surface. The piece of jewelery was yet another reminder of all that she'd lost, the inscription hidden upon the rear of its face tugging at her heart. 'For my beloved Moonbeam, mistress of dreams and Queen of my heart...'. Luna wiped at her eyes again, haphazardly replacing the crown atop her head. "The pain will never fade if you're unable to let go, surely you understand that...? Change cannot happen if you're unwilling to let it."

"That is easier said than done... Part of me still wants to believe that he is not gone..." Luna grunted, taking a deep breath and imposing order upon her rapidly agitated mind. Once again she needed to remind herself that the past was the past, and there was nothing that could be done to change that... "I will try, Celestia. For now, though, I think it best I keep my distance until Project Tartarus' completion." The woman straightened, having managed to stop her tears. Adjusting her crown, she stared at her reflection in the cold window glass. "Thank you for your counsel, as always... You may take your leave, I must be alone with my thoughts."

Celestia nodded wordlessly, at which point her holographic form vanished from view. The gem levitating at the center of the table returned to its cradle, going completely dark and leaving Luna to face the muffled sound of the rail cars on her own. For twenty seconds or so, Luna was fine, then her grip began to slacken, until ultimately she was overcome by her emotions. Slumping against the wall, the Princess slowly slid down until she was seated on the floor. Once there she removed her crown, gazing upon its inscription as tears welled in her eyes. Unable to contain the grief any longer, and unhindered by any form of audience, the indomitable Princess Luna commenced to openly weep...

For an hour she allowed the tears to run freely, listening to the quiet clatter of the train and the distant rumble of the locomotive. There was little in her head to distract her from mourning, but Luna didn't want to be distracted. She wanted to feel every ounce of pain, to remind herself just how much that eccentric, patriotic, sweet man still meant to her. She hated it, but needed it... For the crown and her pain was all that remained of him to remember, save her copies of his written works. As the hour dragged on, however, her faculties gradually returned. For all the grief that her thoughts brought her, gazing upon the polished glittering silver still managed to bring to the surface a myriad of pleasant memories. With a small smile of joyfully ambivalent melancholy, Luna leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes.

She'd received the silvery crown on the night of the first 'Grand Ball', a sort of proto-'Grand Galloping Gala'. Luna had yet to attend the Grand Galloping Gala herself, it only came into being after her banishment. A year had passed, of course, but she'd skipped that gala for the sake of her sanity, and because Nightmare Moon was still fresh in everyone's minds... She doubted the Grand Galloping Gala would be any different to the snobbery present at the Grand Ball. If the the woman concentrated enough, she could still hear the orchestra playing somewhere in the distance.

Observos led her away from the party, out into the gardens of the Castle of the Two Sisters, where he'd presented her the crown, something he'd crafted with his magic. With the same arcane acumen, Observos had conjured a phantasmal band of musicians, well secluded from the festivities taking place elsewhere in the Castle Ballroom. The two then swayed to a song only they could hear, free from the prying eyes of interloping Councilors or other riggers of governmental intrigue. Just the two of them, the tapestry of night, and their love.

They'd talked of the wonders that they would see together, how together the two of them would guide Equestria towards a brighter future... She'd broached the topic of a family, and though Observos was against it at first, he'd eventually given his tacit acceptance of such a possibility. Despite that slightly awkward conversation, it was without a doubt the happiest night of Luna's life, and few things had come close in the years since... It was the last time she could recall smiling so widely, and the only thing that could come close recently was the arrival of her daughter, traumatic and awful as that night was...

Perhaps that event was the only reason she would ever consider letting go of her grief and truly moving on. To hold on to it for so long, and at the same time tell her daughter that she shouldn't do the same, would set an example of hypocrisy that might prove difficult to undo. She couldn't see the 'wonders' she'd dreamt of with Observos, she couldn't build a brighter future with him... She could do those things for her daughter. Yet even as she came to that conclusion, that it was truly time for her to let go, something told her to wait... In spite of so many years, there was some part of her that would not let her, some voice that screamed 'Just a little longer!'...

Luna's eyes snapped open, her hand rapidly moving to wipe her cheeks of tears... She had to get herself together. Pushing herself back up onto her feet, she stretched her wings momentarily, then straightened her clothes. The Princess conjured a small orb of magic in her palms, wisps of the glowing blue energy coiled up her arms and converged at her neck. Washing over her face, the streamers of light cleared away any remaining tears and returned her aching red eyes to their typical pallor. To even the most practiced of viewers it would seem as if nothing was amiss. After all, appearances were everything, and that was just one of the many spells no Princess could do without. Adjusting the flow of her magic, she used it to take hold of the drawstrings for the other blinds in the room. With a brief pull of those cords the windows, now no longer obscured, flooded the MSC with the light of Celestia's morning sun.

Staring out the nearest window at the distant pastures, Luna pondered just what to do next... The answer seemed simple enough, return to Orzel and enjoy the remainder of their time aboard the train as best as possible. The question extended beyond the immediate, and that was where she found her conundrum. What would she do when Project Tartarus came to completion? How would she react if they actually managed to 'reform' Discord? Director Aquila believed it could be done, something that surprised the Princess almost as much as the very idea itself. After what happened, she would've thought Aquila to be the last person willing to seek Discord's parole. Then again, the Director had always been an enigmatic sort, most ex-cultists were...

Luna doubted the man had any sort of ill will towards her or Celestia, but his unwillingness to share vital information could prove just as damaging. There had to be something he wasn't telling her, then again there was always something he wasn't telling her, or anyone else for that matter... A stone would sooner bleed than the Director give up every fact freely. Given his expertise in the field of the occult, Luna supposed that was probably for the best. Few scholars had peered beyond the veil, into the not so theoretical Chaotic Realm, Limbo, and the countless other planes of reality. Fewer still had seen with such clarity and accuracy the machinations of those terrible and dark places, better left to their horrific native inhabitants... Yet only the Director managed to accomplish these feats without slipping into mind shattering madness.

Luna shook her head, turning and quietly making for the railcar's forward door. She was getting far too ahead of herself, and any 'secrets' Aquila might've been harboring were more than likely benign. Her body was suddenly embraced by the frigid autumn wind as she stepped outside, her gown fluttering and flapping in the rushing air. By now the train was reaching the base of the Canterhorn, leveling out onto the flat pastoral fields surrounding the towering peak. After a few more moments the train passed over a switch, extending a parallel line of tracks off to the right. The locomotive once again wailed in its mournful baritone call, then again and again in rapid succession, soon joined by the ringing of the bell at its front. The brakes shrieked beneath Luna's feet, the car lurched forward...

Was the train about to derail, or collide with some unseen threat? The tracks off the side could very well have been a siding, had a train failed to give way? Luna leaned off the railcar's forward balcony and looked ahead, only realize that the train was slowing and making such an ungodly racket not because of impending disaster, but rather in response to an approaching railroad crossing. Two safety lights some three hundred yards down the line began flashing, the clanging of their warning bells audible even at this distance. The safety bars likewise had dropped into place, though it seemed there were no automobiles waiting to cross. Given they were in farm country, that wasn't altogether surprising. Even so, regulations were regulations, and a Princess's royal train was subject to them just as any other.

Laughing faintly at her overreaction, the Princess made her way forward from the MSC, through the Kitchen car. The kitchen staff paid the royal little mind, too preoccupied with their own duties, and so Luna was able to enter her car with little comment or interruption. The chef was hard at work preparing what looked to be some sort of thick broth, or maybe it was a sauce. Regardless of what it was, the creamy looking substance smelled divine. In the next few hours she'd likely become more familiar with it, but for now it remained a mystery. Steam rose from the heated liquid, and Luna pondered that perhaps a nice cup of tea would sooth her nerves.

A quick request to the chef was all it took, and soon a kettle of water was placed on the stove just as she was leaving the kitchen car. Carefully stepping over the next gap, Luna made her way into her private car. The next car in the train would be Orzel's, and though it had been an hour or more, Luna felt it best to allow her daughter a bit more time to change in private. It was more likely the girl was reading, or working on one of her models, or any of the other myriad things the young Princess did in her spare time. Even so, better safe than sorry... Luna would wait until the tea arrived, and not a moment sooner.

Of course, what was tea without something to keep one's mind busy...? Judging by the angle of the rising sun, and confirmed by a clock mounted to the wall, the time was just after nine-thirty in the morning. That brought a small smile to her face, as it was nearly time for her morning game of chess with Orzel. The girl was gradually improving with each passing day, though there was still a long way to go... Orzel possessed a distinctly aggressive play style, one that favored her at the outset, but left her with little ability to counter Luna's moves in the mid-game. The teen at least had the calm exterior down almost as well as Luna's, but her impulsive moves and lack of forethought proved more often than not to be her downfall.

Perhaps chess just wasn't Orzel's game, though Luna could tell the girl at least enjoyed it on some level. She gained far more success when they played Kriegsplan, a Griffon game that took into account things like terrain, flanking, and other 'realistic' elements. In the end, however, Luna didn't really care what game they played so long as they did so together. It was more than just a way to pass the time, at least to her. Their daily ritual gave Luna an insight into her daughter's life beyond the surface, and lately she'd come to discover Orzel didn't have much of a 'life' at all. There were no boys, or girls, that Luna felt she needed to worry about... No one of any kind, actually. Outside of family functions and the weekly visit to Doctor Scratch, Orzel rarely left the palace grounds. She had no 'friends', nor acquaintances, save perhaps her bodyguards.

If Luna couldn't manage to find some means of integrating her with people her own age, Orzel would one day become as reclusive and cloistered as an oyster. In any other circumstance, Luna would've understood the desire to shut out the world. The National Council's meddling had thoroughly tainted Orzel's view of Equestria's government, and not in a positive light... Almost as important as the girl's mental health, however, was how Orzel's unwillingness to interact with the rest of the world presented serious leadership concerns. How could she effectively rule a people she actively sought to avoid at all costs? Luna could only wonder if this was the same sort of concern she'd put Celestia through while growing up. Now that the National Council's hold on her daughter was at an end, maybe she could convince the girl to return to the dance studio of Miss Pirouette... Just to get her out and about.

The woman became suddenly aware of a distant bang, not of the kind that was associated with rail travel. Glancing towards the front of the train, specifically Orzel's car, the Princess got a frightening feeling something had happened that required her immediate attention. Waiting for the tea was no longer an option, so she rushed through the door, over the gap, and threw open the door to Orzel's private car. What lay before her was perhaps the most bewildering thing Luna had seen in recent times, made all the more bizarre by her daughter's apparent unfazed expression... She wasn't sure if she should be worried or angry. The girl's clothes were thoroughly blackened with soot, at least the front facing portion of her tunic was, as well as a portion of a once pristine lab coat... A recent acquisition. The girl's face hadn't been spared the dark coating, though over her eyes she wore a thick pair of safety goggles. Her hair thankfully hadn't caught fire, as it was tied back more tightly than usual.

A dull purple fog hung low to the floor, though it was rapidly dissipated by the rushing air from the open door. The rest of the car was more or less in one piece, excepting the desk that Orzel stood before, which looked slightly worse for ware. Resting upon the charred wooden surface was what looked to be one of the teen's beloved model ships, remarkably untouched by whatever just happened. Despite the apparent destruction, however, Orzel had the largest smile Luna had ever seen plastered all across her face. Giggling slightly, the girl lifted the goggles, an act that gave her the appearance of a raccoon, as the skin beneath was markedly untouched. Taking her glasses from her labcoat's breast pocket, Orzel tucked them neatly onto her face and leaned forward.

"Fascinating, it binds to plastic just as well as organic materials!" The girl muttered in Szafirian, pulling a pen and notepad from her lab coat's other pocket and scribbling something in its pages. Her eyes turned to the now open doorway and the dissipating fog. The smile became slightly more sheepish as she spotted Luna's less than enthused expression. "Oh, um... Hello, Mother! Uh... I do not suppose you would believe me if I said this is not what it looks like?" Luna shook her head, though even Luna wasn't sure what 'this looked like'. Walking into the car, leaving the door open to continue venting the strange purple fog, Luna approached her daughter and the offending model ship. "I was just studying..."

"Just studying...?" Luna asked rhetorically in Equestrian, picking up the model ship and examining the runes Orzel had scribed on its side. The ship itself was one of her older works, a Griffon Grover-Class Battleship.

The runes were some of the most intricate the girl had yet accomplished, likely taking her several hours just to complete a single line. Luna recognized some of them as transmutation runes, specifically with an eye towards turning the ship to steel... Transmutation magic was a considerably important facet of Enchanting, at least when it came to larger items, but rarely could such powerful magic be used on an object as small as a model ship. There were also animation runes, another basic building block of an Enchantress' skill-set... These included runes that would allow Orzel to control something with her mind, requiring pin-point precision for them to work properly. Lastly, and most alarmingly, were a combination of fire runes, water runes...

"Do you realize how dangerous mixing fire and water enchantments can be for a novice?! You are lucky you only blew up the desktop and did not scald yourself in the process!" Luna's anger was rapidly growing, she didn't understand what possessed her daughter to try something so reckless. The thought of something, anything, happening to her child overrode any sense of rational thought, and it was all she could to do keep from exploding entirely. "Explain yourself!"

"I-I was trying to make the ship run on its own..." Orzel stated sullenly, once again slipping into Equestrian, while looking at the floor and removing the goggles from her forehead. "All of my model engines are too primitive, and too big to fit in any of my ships, I thought I could work backwards with an enchantment..." Luna then became aware that the ship also apparently received an upgrade in the form of metal propellers and shafts. They passed through the hull, into the body of the ship. Sighing through flared nostrils, Luna rubbed the bridge of her nose and shook her head, she realized now what her daughter was attempting. "I did not know it would blow up like that! Honest! I am sorry!"

"As well you should be, you could have seriously injured yourself..." Luna responded firmly, setting the ship back on the table. Seeing that her daughter wasn't harmed in any appreciable way did a lot to assuage her mounting anxiety driven anger, and so when next she spoke it was with far more control than previously. "You cannot undertake such hazardous projects on your own yet, Orzel... Why did you not come to me for help?" The girl paused for a moment, as if about to say something, but her eyes just returned to the floor. "Come on, speak up."

"At first...? I wanted to impress you..." The girl admitted, tucking her hands into her pockets. "To show you I am capable of more advanced work..." She idly kicked at the floor. "I thought if I presented an advanced enough enchantment, you would agree to teach me more advanced methods..." She looked at the ship, picking it up and running her finger along its side. "It was fun, trying so many new enchantments, I thought I was skilled enough to pull it off... Obviously I was wrong."

"From now on, if you are undertaking something so ambitious, please... Let me know." Luna's voice became slightly more gentle, her hands migrating to her hips. "I want you clean up this mess, clean yourself up, and then write me an essay on why an object's physical proportions limit the amount of enchantments it can safely be imbued with. No more enchanting for now, at least not outside of our lessons..."

Orzel looked like she was about to protest, but ultimately nodded in that same sullen fashion. Without another word the girl began to pack up her enchanting supplies, including a portable 'enchanters tablet' that had been placed on the desk. It wasn't visible earlier, as like the desk it too was coated in soot. That gave Luna an idea, one that unfortunately she'd need to wait to enact, but an idea nonetheless. There had to be some 'Enchanters Clubs' in Canterlot, it was a decently popular hobby. Perhaps that would be the key to breaking Orzel's reclusive habits, assuming the girl actually gave it a chance. She was becoming quite an adept Enchantress, at least for someone of her age...

Despite the blunder with the model ship, the teen's work showed considerable promise. Luna was certain that if she'd had a further month or so of training under her belt, the girl would've found a way to make things work. At the very least, she would've known not to do something so dangerous. Was this what Celestia felt like, when first she took Twilight under her wing? Luna certainly hoped that was the case, because for all the stress that'd arisen in those few minutes, a new found pride emerged...

Where other's might've taken such a drastic failure as a blow to their ego, the smile Luna saw on Orzel's face, and the eagerness with which she took her notes, spoke volumes. Her trips to Doctor Scratch were working, her confidence was growing, and regardless of tribulations... Orzel was starting to 'get better', and long as that road might be, she was taking her first steps towards whatever the future held. All Luna's worries and anger were set aside for the moment, and she took that moment to step forward and embrace her daughter... Orzel was caught off guard, but returned the hug, evidently not allowing the events of the preceding minutes to cloud her feelings.

Chapter 9

The morning of the Carrier's launch had brought Orzel the closest to the sea she'd been since her first arrival to Equestria, and despite the earlier troubles of her trip, she felt... Bizarrely well. The girl couldn't help but be enthralled by all that surrounded her, for it was indeed a heady sight. Gulls winged overhead, calling out raucously while gliding upon unseen updrafts. Illuminated by the lessening gloom of dawn, they took on an almost angelic effect, flying so effortlessly above. They enjoyed an abject freedom from the worries and concerns of modernity, soaring high above the distant wave tops, which took on the aspect of a glittering field of emeralds and sapphires.

Orzel had watched the sun rise and set countless times in Cesarski, but never with the clarity afforded her by her spectacles... Now, thanks to the tortoiseshell glasses daintily perched upon her nose, she could take in the entire remarkable display in its totality... It was, without question, the most beautiful thing the eyes of the young Princess had ever seen. In the face of such wondrous splendor, spurred on by that strange sensation of wellness and comfort she didn't fully comprehend, she couldn't help but be nearly moved to tears. Soon she would be called upon to christen a warship, bearing her Birth Mother's name, and it would be on that most beautiful of days...

If Sokol's spirit resided anywhere within the strange world of Equus, it made itself known in the luster of that dawn, and filled her daughter's heart with hope and serenity she'd not sensed in... Well, Orzel couldn't quite remember. She leaned silently upon the metal railing, lingering at the edge of the soon to be christened Aircraft Carrier's starboard flight deck. There she stood, virtually alone. Despite the seclusion afforded her by the lofty vantage, it was as if Sokol's hand rested upon her shoulder, assuring Orzel that no matter what happened, today things would be alright. Today she would refute the machinations of those that detracted her, today she would address her future subjects for the first time... Today she would truly accept the mantle of Crown-Princess, and all the things that came with it.

A distant droning steam whistle suddenly burst the morning calm, and Orzel's eyes were drawn to a cluster of three ships currently steaming line abreast down the channel to open sea. Across from her was the other side of Neighport News, where its civilian shipbuilding industry was hard at work. The three ships making for the ocean were Navy vessels, a trio of 'Altair-Class' Destroyers, wisps of smoke wafting away from their raked funnels. Their sharply angled bows sliced through the waves at nearly eighteen knots, their twin screws churning up frothing wakes at their sterns. They were some of the most advanced warships Orzel had ever laid eyes upon, flush-decked four-stackers, built for speed and maneuverability. All three were painted in a dull drab gray, a much less elegant appearance than the comparatively showy paint scheme of the Imperial Navy. It was function over form, preventing the ship's steel hull from rusting away and better disguising her against the waves... Orzel could stand behind that.

Yet for as impressive as the destroyers might have been, Orzel's eyes were once again drawn to the very ship she stood upon. The steel colossus that had necessitated her visit to Neighport News in the first place, and that which currently afforded her the exquisite view of the morning sun. Resting in stately repose upon her blocks in the dry dock of her birth, the soon-to-be 'ESS Sokol' sat adorned with banners and bunting of indigo, white and gold. The plastic model Orzel created in her room could not do justice to the sheer size and presence exuded by the ship. Stretching nearly eight-hundred feet long, she would displace close to thirty-thousand tons when fully loaded.

Once again, Equestria's technological supremacy was on display for all the world to see. A single warship of such immense tonnage that she weighed as much as fifteen Imperial frigates. When finally ready for sea, she would go forth with such speed that she could easily outpace the Altair-Class, considered 'outdated' by Equestrian standards. Intended to sail among the new faster and nimbler destroyer and cruiser classes currently in the process of working up, Sokol could easily run circles around most existing battleships... Taking all of this into account, it was all too obvious to Orzel that ships like Sokol would replace the battleship in the end. If only the Admiralty could share that mindset...

Sokol would be magnificent both externally and, eventually, internally. Her deck was completely flat, her island offset to her starboard side, and directly behind it sat a massive enclosure of steel. It towered nearly as tall as the island itself, adding to the vessel's odd asymmetric charm, as both constructs were situated closer to the bow. Concealed within the stout raked enclosure were the ship's funnels, of which there were three. On account of their odd placement, the funnels and superstructure had been added in dry dock, and though fully complete from a cursory glance there was still at least six months worth of fitting out before the ship could begin sea trials. The engineering plant had yet to be installed, as well as many of the other internal systems. Like the rest of the Equestrian Navy, she was painted drab gray, though her smokestack enclosure differed in that it bore a single large vertical navy blue stripe that served as a backdrop for a tall white '1'

The looming ceremony was already drawing a crowd around the ship, both in the form of the ship's future crew, the builders, media, curious onlookers, and other distinguished guests. Row after row of chairs lined the dry dock at the ship's bow, all around a stage erected at the ship's prow. Stepping back from the railing, Orzel turned away from the ocean. Behind her, some ten yards away, a man in a Naval Officer's uniform was approaching. Commander Maelstrom, ESS Sokol's future Commanding Officer. Grim and Fable walked in lockstep beside him. Straightening up, the teen approached the trio, content for now with her view of the sea. The wind ruffled the fabric of her gown, the very same she'd worn the day before, albeit altered in color with the aid of Luna's magic. It was now a shade of burgundy, while the sash was amber, more in keeping with the Autumn palette. As was the case on the day before, she also wore the Obsidian Crown, her hair tied up in another loose bun to keep it in place.

According to his service record, Commander Maelstrom was the last sort of person she'd expect to have been given command of the most advanced ship in Equestria's Navy. He was one of the shortest Equestrians Orzel had ever encountered, only taller than her by a few inches or so. This, coupled with exceptional musculature, gave him the overall physique of a fire hydrant. The man inhabiting that stout frame possessed a temperament that had nearly seen him drummed out of the Navy on several occasions. The most notable incident regarded an altercation between himself and a contingent of Ornithian merchant sailors in the Manehattan. Said sailors reportedly made some disparaging comments about a young waitress, and Maelstrom took considerable exception to that... To such an extent that all five Ornithians required a visit to the hospital... The only thing that spared his career was their refusal to press charges.

From this, Orzel concluded that Commander Maelstrom was the sort of man that her Father would've gotten along swimmingly with. Someone who would have no qualms with taking his enemy to task, and who wouldn't relent until said enemy was soundly consigned to the deep. Maelstrom also had the distinction of being one of the younger officers in the Navy, perhaps in his early thirties, and as yet never held a command of anything larger than a Seaplane Tender. As Aircraft Carriers were viewed as a passing fad, the Admiralty didn't want to 'waste' one of their premier officers. The fact that he was also one of only a handful of officers to volunteer for the position also played a role. Regardless of how he'd come to be chosen, he at the very least seemed eager, and already held a considerable affection for his command.

"She is a fine vessel, Captain..." Declared Orzel once she was within a few feet of the men, her eyes falling upon Commander Maelstrom. Though he'd yet to take command, Orzel still referred to him by the customary honorific title of 'Captain'. The man smiled at Orzel's compliment, clasping his hands behind his back. Up close it was clear that his irascible personality came at a cost to his good looks, as so many various brawls and years as the Navy's defending Welterweight Boxing Champion certainly took their toll. He was by no means ugly, but he wasn't handsome either. "Incomplete as she may be, I have no doubt she will prove a tremendous asset once put to sea."

"I'm glad someone agrees, aside from Princess Luna. The way the pantywaists in the Admiralty treat my ship, you'd think she's the biggest boondoggle since circular hulls. Damn pencil pushers..." The Commander responded honestly, smiling a large gap toothed grin before gesturing towards the island. "Let's get on with it, aye?" With her bodyguards in tow, the Princess nodded and followed Maelstrom along the flight deck. Once fully fitted out, the bare steel would be covered by teak deck planks, though for now it rumbled under foot with every step. It was still strange to imagine that the deck she trod upon now would, in less than a year, be capable of actually launching flying machines. "Once her engineering plant is in order, we'll have nine boilers which'll let us make about thirty knots. Should put those fat bastards in the battle-wagons to shame." Orzel nodded quietly, listening intently... The details of the ship's engineering plant were just a few of the items that fascinated her prior to arrival, and she already knew much about the ship's inner workings. Even so, she wasn't going to rain on the Commander's parade. He was proud of his ship, and rightly so.

Though perhaps a tad crass, he at least spoke without a cumbersome filter, and Orzel could respect that more than most others. After all, Maelstrom had nothing on her Uncle Olaf. Technically not really Orzel's 'Uncle', more her Father's best friend, and the Chief Bosun aboard Piorun, a man whose aptitude for crafting profane statements was legendary, even among the Admiralty of the Imperial Armada. Orzel had to subdue a frown and a brief surge of remorse... She'd not thought of Olaf at all since coming to Equestria, and unfortunately she couldn't think of him now either... The girl shook her head, there were bigger concerns at present.

The funnel enclosure loomed ahead, casting a long shadow across the deck and even beyond. Directly behind the enclosure were two mounting rings in the deck, where eventually a pair of twin-mount 8" gun turrets would reside, an identical set rested forward of the main island. The amount of defensive firepower the ship would eventually command was almost as impressive as that of her offensive capabilities. In addition to the twin-mounted secondaries, when fully completed the ship would would house a whole host of Multi-Purpose and Anti-Aircraft Guns.

"We'll be able to carry about fifty aircraft when we're all fitted out, my hope is that the Navy will have some monoplanes on order by then, though I'm not counting on it. Biplanes are fine and all, but they take up a lot of space. If we had monoplanes with folding wings, I could see us easily taking on ninety, and then we could really put the hurt on anyone suicidal enough to cross us." The Commander continued, raising another concern that was only recently brought to Orzel's attention. An aircraft carrier was fine and dandy, so long as she had aircraft to carry. That was a matter that would need tending to, though not at that exact moment... "If you don't mind my asking? What does the name 'Sokol' mean? I know it's some sort of draconic, but..." Maelstrom's question drew the girl from her thoughts, and for the briefest of moments she wasn't entirely sure how to respond. "It's just that she'll be my ship, y'know?"

"Of course, I understand..." Orzel responded gently, a small smile crossing her features as they passed beneath the shadow of the funnel enclosure. "The closest translation I can give is 'Falcon', but it means far more than that." Clasping her hands behind her back, Orzel supposed there was no recourse but to be honest. The Commander deserved to know the truth about his ship in its entirety. "It was my Birth Mother's name. Among my people she was what was known as a 'Shield Matron', a warrior of her faith..."

"The sort willing to make any sacrifice in defense of what she cared about. She fought until the bitter end." The girl made sure to emphasize the word 'her', as all the counseling in the world couldn't restore Orzel's belief in Vindicta. She still believed in Gods, maybe she'd even pick a new faith someday, but never, ever again would she pray to Vindicta. The teen had to stop herself from growing angry, had to get back to the topic at hand. "Princess Luna and I have been unable to bestow the honors due her sacrifice, so making her the namesake of Equestria's most powerful warship seemed an acceptable alternative."

"I see..." Maelstrom responded with a solemn respect that Orzel hadn't expected, slowing his pace so that the Princess might walk beside him. "I suppose if I went down fighting, I wouldn't mind having a ship named after me either." Orzel shook her head, her smile returning to hopefully set the Commander's mind at ease. He still seemed unsure, judging by the look of remorse in his eyes. That simply wouldn't do, especially considering the auspiciousness of the day. According to the stories of her Father, the day a Captain's ship was launched was was meant to be one of triumph. Equestria's Navy might not have been the Imperial Navy, but it still held her highest esteem. It was Orzel's closest tie to her late Father, after all, and she would have no part in diminishing its oldest of traditions. "Sorry, by the way. Probably not the nicest thing to talk about."

"On the contrary, Captain, I am quite pleased to share." The Princess stated warmly, offering a restrained smile as she saw the Commander's features return to their previous gap-toothed smirk. She wished she felt comfortable mimicking it... Ever since her talk with Luna the day before, it'd seemed that keeping her emotions in check was getting harder, both the good and the bad... So she found herself needing to limit her expressions, else she lose control. Once again, the Princess shook her head and focused back on the topic at hand. "Outside of myself and Princess Luna, there are few that know of my Birth Mother's honorable exploits, or her prowess in combat. It is my fondest hope her deeds will inspire this ship's crew to similar acts of courage."

"Well, ma'am, I'll make damn sure my crew knows what'll be expected of 'em. Don't you worry none either, whoever we end up going up against will know just who it was that sent them to the bottom." Dutifully stated Maelstrom as the group came to a stop beside a large hatch leading into the ship's island. "Right up there's where the bridge'll be, unfortunately there isn't much to see as of yet. Since she's still technically under construction, I can't take anyone inside without a hard hat." Orzel simply nodded, maintaining her calm exterior despite a considerable level of disappointment. "Don't worry, I'll be able to give the full tour once we're all fitted out."

"I shall hold you to that, Captain." Orzel's voice was jovial, but nonetheless serious. "While my Mother is unable to devote her complete attention to your progress, I will be more than able to do so, should the need arise." She stood back, staring upwards at the commanding superstructure with measured wonder. As per usual she was eclipsed in height by her bodyguards, but even their towering forms paled beneath the shadow of the carrier's island. "The Admiralty may see this ship as a 'boondoggle', but you and I both realize that air power is the future of naval warfare, perhaps even all of modern warfare." The Princess tone became deadly serious. "If Equestria is to retain dominance at sea, you must display that Sokol is well worth her cost. There can be no doubt as to the value she adds to our defense, if we are to continue the production of ships of her class or develop others in the future."

The Commander's features became briefly perplexed, apparently he hadn't expected such an intense observation from someone of her limited age, but his confusion gradually gave way to that giant gap-toothed smile, and that spoke more than words. The entire situation felt... Odd. To speak to someone so many years older than her as a 'superior' was not a common occurrence in her daily life, even as a Princess. She certainly didn't feel better than the Commander, and she hoped that she wasn't coming off as if she did. In the time since her first meeting with Doctor Scratch she'd come to realize that the words 'superior' and 'better' were not always one in the same...

There were already a few distinct moments that cemented Orzel's status as a member of the Crown into reality for her, and this was fast becoming one of them. She knew that Princess wasn't just a title, no more than the crown atop her head was just a crown. Orzel would one day serve as Equestria's Sovereign, just as Luna and Celestia did for countless years. Men like Commander Maelstrom would look to her for leadership. They would pledge their loyalty to her service, with the expectation that she would lead them and their motherland to a brighter future. A chill sprinted down Orzel's spine as she came to the realization that at some point in the future, those same people might very well lay down their lives in her service, perhaps even at her express orders, for the good of others. That was perhaps the most sobering revelation of them all. In that instant, the weight of the Obsidian Crown became almost oppressive, but it was a weight she would bear nonetheless...

Luna made her daughter Crown Princess for a reason, and it was Luna's expectation that Orzel would eventually be up to wearing the title, crown, and other trappings of office with dignity and grace. Today's ceremony would be but one of hundreds that would inevitably follow throughout the years. Much as it might've frightened her, there was nothing Orzel could do but move ahead at full steam, otherwise she'd never do much of anything Princess related... That was just one of the many fears she harbored as she glanced towards the bow, where she knew the crowd to be forming. That ultimately, no matter how hard she tried, she would be forever unworthy... Weak... Insignificant. That all the efforts of her Mother and Aunt to make her life worth something would amount to nothing, and that any that might die under her command would do so in vain.

"We should be moving along, your highness." Grim spoke up in his typical rumbling baritone, leaning down to better reach Orzel's ear. Thankfully his words effectively pulled Orzel out of her spiraling fears of failure. Setting her jaw, she asserted to herself that for this day at least, she would not allow an ounce of fear to permeate the mask she so carefully cultivated. The girl glanced over her shoulder, then looked to Commander Maelstrom. He had likewise heard the news, and out of habit glanced at a watch affixed to his wrist. "The ceremony will be starting shortly."

Despite her desire to further explore, Orzel nodded wordlessly and began towards a hatch near the front of the island that originally allowed her access to the flight deck. While the rest of the ship was off limits for safety reasons, this particular stairwell was cleared solely for the purpose of accessing the flight deck... Maelstrom and the others followed suit, with the Commander taking the lead to ensure the Princess didn't go toppling down the steeply inclined steps. At the very least, if she did, he would ensure she landed on something softer than the cold deck plating. That presented another aspect of being a Princess that Orzel hadn't given much thought prior to that morning, that certain people would go out of their way to ensure her personal safety, even at the cost of their own lives, not just perish on some distant battlefield. In fact, that was the primary duty of her bodyguards, one they undertook willingly and without hesitation... Yet again the crown seemed to grow heavier.

Descending the darkly lit steps took a few minutes, with every deck they passed sealed by dogged hatches that lead to parts of the ship yet unknown to the young Princess. Eventually, the light of day pierced the darkened interior from a door on the starboard side, leading out to a long gangway that was decorated with flowing banners of blue, white, and gold. Crossing the gangway, she briefly looked over the side at the immensely deep slipway. Earlier that morning she'd walked the base of the ship, and it had been just as impressive as the flight deck. At the carrier's stern, waiting patiently to taste the salty depths, four immense polished bronze propellers shone brightly in the morning sun. With a sense of finality, Orzel and her entourage stepped off the gangway, where several yard workers stood by to retract the walkway from the ship's hull. Looking over her shoulder, she could see that the door they'd passed through was closed, either by Grim or Fable...

The gulls called out upon the breeze once more, likely drawn by the growing number of people taking their seats before the stage. Despite its placement, the platform was actually considerably higher than the base of the ship's bulbous bow. Yet even resting above the red paint of her belly, the scaffold was dwarfed in size and scope. In a matter of minutes Orzel reached the solid concrete of the dry dock, and with that final step she grew one moment closer to her first Royal Duty. With each second that passed thereafter she agonized over just what it was she was going to say. The night before was spent writing her address, agonizing over its contents, and then rewriting it... At least, after she'd finished cleaning up her mess and the essay Luna had asked of her.

Now, as the actual moment drew near, Orzel was feeling the urge to toss out everything she'd written. This was her chance to make a good impression on the Equestrian people, to undo some of the damage done by tabloids and the National Council. Thinking of them, more specifically the Noble Party, tied her stomach up in knots. The Council predictably took the news of Luna's 'defiance' poorly, submitting more 'decency demands' than before, though this time to no effect. Their compatriots in the Canterlot newspapers likewise painted Orzel in a remarkably unflattering light, using language she preferred not to repeat in mixed company, or any company for that matter. Today, at the front of the most advanced weapons system on the planet, Orzel would be given a chance to respond... How she did so could very well sink or save her public image, what little of it existed to begin with.

The walk to the stage was slow and deliberate, granting the Princess enough time to steady her nerves. She was nearly mobbed by eager reporters when they noticed her, the pulsating horde stopped only by a line of metal barricades. Powerfully built Navy MPs and Nocturne Agents stood behind the obstructions, many with their eyes hidden behind the familiar mirrored sunglasses so ubiquitous to the Nocturne Agency. The MPs' faces, like those of their Agency counterparts, varied between stoic indifference and cold intensity. Grim and Fable suddenly took the lead, stepping in front of Orzel to face several flashes from the photographers in the crowd. Together it seemed they were surveying the crowd, seeking any threats that might lurk within.

When they reached their silent consensus that it was in fact safe, they returned to their posts behind Orzel. Commander Maelstrom meanwhile went ahead, joining several officers already seated on the stage. Orzel looked over the pulsing mob of curious onlookers, silently steeling herself against what was to come. Luna counseled her earlier to remain cold and aloof, to not pay any mind to the questions... Most importantly, she'd been warned not to retaliate to any insult, perceived or otherwise... Such things were considered beneath the notice of a Princess. Given how Orzel nearly blew herself up the day before on account of not seeking Luna's advice, the girl was feeling particularly inclined to trust her Mother's judgment this time around. The looming carrier likewise seemed protective in its presence, as if staring down upon the crowd with unseen intensity, daring them to transgress her sponsor.

With a renewed sense of determination, Orzel cautiously took in her surroundings. The cameras flashed, the reporters shouted, and together the massive amount of stimuli overwhelmed her senses for the briefest of moments. Blinking the spots from her eyes, Orzel straightened and started the short walk towards the stage, flanked on either side by her bodyguards. Somehow she managed to keep from flinching or covering her eyes, daintily ascending the steps where Luna was already waiting... She'd arrived just in time, judging by the size of the crowd. Off to the right of said crowd sat a band, watching and waiting for the ceremony to commence, with everything from brass instruments to drums and woodwinds... Further evidence to the momentousness of the day's events.

"I trust you found the view helpful?" Luna asked in a quiet but genuine voice as Orzel took a seat beside her, briefly glancing at the podium set up at the head of the stage. Stealthily tucked in an alcove at the base of the podium was a small stool, undoubtedly the doing of Orzel's Mother. It had been placed there ahead of time, so that when the teen eventually addressed the crowd she could do so without standing on the tips of her toes. The girl nodded at her Mother's question, folding her hands into her lap and sitting with rigid posture. "If you value comfort, try not to appear so... Stiff. We will be here for some time."

"I will try to relax..." Orzel quietly grunted, her words barely audible over the din of the crowd. Thankfully the photographers were snapping pictures with less frequency, and most of the reporters sullenly returned to their seats at the rear of the congregation of chairs. The rest of the guests quickly arrayed themselves more properly on stage, including Commander Maelstrom's other officers. Within the crowd were members of the ship's crew, as well as several representatives of the men and women that had built her. A handful were still finding their seats, at least Orzel wasn't the last to arrive. "You are certain you want me to do this?" Her mother gave a considerate nod. "I would like to once again apologize for yesterday..." Another nod.

It seemed Luna wasn't all too keen on speaking, likely as the ceremony was about to begin. To punctuate that theory, Orzel watched a man in an Admiral's uniform rise from beside Maelstrom and approach the podium. As if a switch had been flipped, the crowd went dead silent, the photographers and journalists falling still and quiet. The Nocturne Agents remained at their posts along the barricade while the MPs moved to secure other avenues. Even if Orzel wanted to, which she didn't, there was no way for her to back out now. She was committed to seeing things through. The man at the podium, Admiral Weigh Anchor, cleared his throat and leaned upon the wooden construct.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it is my great privilege to stand before you on this auspicious occasion. I ask now that you stand for our national anthem, and to welcome the color guard..." Weigh Anchor said with gruff voice, and as one the congregation stood to their feet. Orzel stood with Luna, breathing deeply and taking solace from the familiar scent of the ocean... Anything to take her mind off the upcoming address. The band was at first silent save a single bugle, loudly playing 'To the Colors' as a quartet of men in double breasted navy blue Naval dress uniforms carried into view the Equestrian flag and the flag of the Equestrian Navy. The two men at the exterior of the of the line carried bolt-action rifles, with ceremonial swords at their hips, all moving in perfect synchronicity.

Each sailor, enlisted and officer alike, snapped a sharp salute as the banners came into view. The four men reached the foot of the stage, then quietly made their way up the steps. Two flag bearers lowered the poles of their flags into a pair of brass receptacles at the rear of the podium, then stood back and allowed the banners to flutter gently in the breeze. Silence descended again, lasting only a few moments, before the band began to play in earnest. 'Equestria, the Gem of the Ocean', an incredibly stirring piece, fittingly themed considering the context of the gathering. The brass section called out across crowd, the drums rumbled like thunder, and together they proudly proclaimed themselves and the pride of their nation to the universe at large.

For several minutes, every face in the crowd seemed as one, unified in solemn respect for the heady tune. It was a song Orzel had memorized by heart, and she ran through each one in time with the beat of the drums. No choir was present, and she didn't dare sing the words aloud for fear of breaking some sort of taboo, the others certainly weren't singing. For several minutes the song was all that could be heard, drowning out even the loudest of ship horns from the distant channel. Finally the last notes of the anthem came and went, and with their fleeting passage the crowd was once more seated. Luna and Orzel lingered on their feet, as was the custom of the Crown, before they too took their ease. The color guard meanwhile moved to stand behind the Princesses, dutifully remaining at attention.

"Thank you..." Continued Weigh Anchor, straightening his posture. He commenced into a speech of his own, discussing the hardships of constructing the carrier, and how she would ultimately better serve Equestria. Orzel wasn't particularly interested in what he had to say, as despite his flowery language, it hardly seemed genuine. Weigh Anchor was one of the many Admirals to call the ship 'Luna's Folly', among other things. Of course the journalists ate every word up, their pens flashing over the sheets of their notebooks in a whirlwind of motion. On and on the Admiral went, for nearly forty five minutes, until Orzel was on the verge of another bout of anxious over thinking. It wasn't just the man's words that set her on edge, but the amount she was building up her own address in her head.

Not only would this speech be her first official address to the Equestrian public, but the moment when she would tell Equestria of her Birth Mother's heroic acts. She would reveal to them the facts, tell them of Sokol's character, of her Father's dedication to a powerful Navy... In essence, she would be delivering a eulogy, and the crowd was likely to be less than sympathetic. With every passing moment the dread grew and grew, until she was struggling to hold her composure... Thankfully, however, Luna noticed the subtle shift in Orzel's posture and gently grasped her hand. It was around that point that Commander Maelstrom coughed rather obtrusively into his sleeve, not so subtly gesturing to the leather band near his wrist. The Admiral, taking the hint, glanced at his own watch and hastily concluded his speech.

There were a few more pieces of pageantry to follow, the arrival of the Commissioning Pennant that would be flown upon Sokol's future commissioning, a time table as to when the ship would be fully ready for sea, and an address from her Captain-to-be. Maelstrom was far more complimentary of the ship, speaking of all her technical advancements, and how he was honored to take the role of Captain. This time Orzel did her best to pay attention, following along with more interest in the address, until finally it came Luna's turn to address the crowd. The elder Princess stood with customary dignity and grace before approaching the podium, each step measured and careful. Leaning on the podium, her wings tensing upon her back, the Princess quietly cleared her throat.

"It has been many centuries since last I stood witness to a ship's christening..." Luna began in a voice that was smooth and regal, more so than any other Orzel had heard of her Mother so far. "As many of you know, the completion of this vessel is a matter I have taken personal interest in. They call her 'Luna's Folly', and claim that she will amount to little more than wasted funds..." There were quiet murmurs among the crowd, but nothing outrageous. "This vessel is the culmination of incredible scientific and military achievements, the ability to safely launch and recover aircraft at sea. With it, we gain the ability to deploy those aircraft to anywhere in the world they may be needed... Safeguarding Equestria, and her interests abroad." The woman turned and quietly gestured for Orzel to stand. With only slightly shaking knees and a nervous breath, the girl complied. "It is time she receive a name worthy of her stature. Given the nature of that name, I can think of only one person fit to bestow it. My daughter, Princess Orzel..."

The woman stood aside, making room for Orzel to approach the podium while at the same time using her magic to subtly draw the stool from its alcove for the diminutive teen to stand upon. All eyes now fixated on the young Princess, and as she gazed about not only did she see cameras, but the silvery chrome microphones of Equestria's various radio broadcasters. Whatever she said there and then would be transmitted to the ears of thousands of people in real time, all across the country... The cost of failure had just increased exponentially. Biting her lower lip, Orzel straightened her posture and cleared her throat, inwardly kicking herself for not having a copy of her address on hand. The silence was dragging on far too long, she needed to say something... Clearing her throat, her first word was tentative.

"Hello..." Orzel's voice gently wafted over the crowd, who all seemed to lean forward, staring at her with the curiosity of a particularly hungry pack of wolves. "Yes, as my Mother said, I am Princess Orzel, and I am happy to be standing before you today. I am certain many of you know of me, but few have heard me speak..." She cast a nervous glance to Luna, and for a moment the woman's stoic mask broke to display a smile of encouragement. Orzel clasped her hands behind her back, hiding the fact that she was clenching them into fists. She could do this...

"There have been some questions regarding the name of the ship we are here to launch today." The Princess began evenly. "These questions are understandable, as the name is not a particularly familiar one in Equestria." The girl sighed through her nose, resisting the urge to straighten the crown on her head, it was straight enough already, she was just imagining things. "The word 'Sokol' translates to Falcon, in my tongue... But it means so much more than that."

"Sokol was the name of my Birth Mother, and among my people she was what is known as a Shield Matron... A defender of the faith." The girl trailed off, her features softening into a somber smile. "She was strong, and wise, and filled with conviction... Devoted to her sacred duty with every fiber of her being." Orzel took a moment to compose herself, once again sighing through her nose, becoming more confident. The journalists' pens outpaced lightning with their speed, each scribbled letter faintly audible to Orzel's ears.

"My Father, on the other hand, was the Captain of a Naval ship. It was his belief that a ship is more than a hull and some paint, more than guns and boilers, or... Aircraft, as the case may be." Orzel went on, and in the faces of the crowd she could see something she hadn't expected... Acceptance. After so many articles had been written about her, after so much wild speculation and vitriol... These people were accepting her at her word all the same. "For those serving aboard her, a ship is their home. She cannot survive without them, nor they without her." She returned her grip to the podium.

"If I may speak about myself for a moment... I have lived in Equestria for a very short time, and yet I can think of nowhere else I would rather be..." The Princess continued, growing more confident still, even as she grasped at the memory of her pre-written speech. "It is a land new possibilities, a land of opportunities I had never dreamed possible, and as such I am proud to count myself among your citizens." The girl glanced backwards at the ship, her tone becoming a bit more melancholic. "Where I hail from, the freedoms that Equestria enjoys in such abundance are non-existent. The press is not free to lambast its leaders, those that dare dissent are jailed, tortured, or executed. All persons, men, women, and children are expected to place the state above anything else, even at the cost of their families."

"You have heard many stories about me, the overwhelming majority of them are false. While I may be displeased with the words printed about myself, I do not share the mindset of my former motherland..." The Princess stated in a clarifying manner. "On the contrary, I encourage you to hold your leaders to account, whether that includes myself, my Mother, or the National Council. It is your duty as Equestrians to criticize your government, and so long as you do not call for violence, your voices shall never be silenced..." She added emphatically, once again the reporters had taken to writing in hurried fashion.

"These rights and the other freedoms that are enshrined in Equestria's constitution, they must be defended at all costs, from all threats, be they mundane or extraordinary." The Princess stated more firmly than before, and she was a Princess... That fact became more evident with every word she spoke. "Today we add to the protection of those rights, a warship that is the cutting edge of Equestrian brilliance. She will defend her motherland with unrelenting ferocity and unwavering resolve, and carry the ideals of freedom we so cherish wherever she may go. She is our strongest shield, our sharpest sword, and she shall defend those serving aboard her and those awaiting her at home as her own children..." Orzel straightened fully. "That is why I, nor Princess Luna, can think of no better name to give to this ship than that of Sokol..."

Orzel turned to find Luna staring at her with unmistakable pride, standing beside Admiral Weigh Anchor and Commander Maelstrom at the very front of the ship's bow. A bottle of champagne, wrapped in a white fabric koozie, rested firmly now in the Commander's grasp. Orzel silently approached him and took hold of the bottle, then moved beside the bow. The ship was even more impressive in its scale as she stood directly before it, and Orzel was briefly compelled to run her hand along the hull's cold steel. Once more, she felt the silent incorporeal presence of Sokol and her Father at her back. When the bottle smashed, would that feeling go away? Did she want it to? So much had changed about her life, and she was ashamed to realize she hadn't given as much thought to her biological parents as she would've liked. For all the suffering and sadness, she still felt it hadn't been enough...

Once again Orzel struggled to keep her composure, a feat she likely would not have been able to match were this any other day. The warmth of the sun against her skin assured her, however, that she could hold herself together. Even then, the bitter questions still lingered. Had she said enough, could anyone truly distill their parents' character into but a few sentences? As if to answer her unspoken question, she felt the intensity of the morning sun amplify against her face. A brief flash of warmth, accompanied the subtle sensation of a kiss on her forehead... Taking one final deep breath, Orzel strengthened her grasp. Things would be okay, she could do this. With a sense of finality, the Princess held the bottle of champagne out to the side.

"I christen thee... The Equestrian Sovereigns' Ship Sokol... May the winds of fate bless you, and all those that sail aboard you." Orzel's voice was as solid as iron, and so she swung with all the might her draconic biology would grant her. Time seemed to slow as Orzel turned her face away from the coming collision, and for a fraction of a second she thought she saw Sokol standing beside her... Smiling at her. The phantom vanished just as the bottle shattered in spectacular fashion, dousing the hull of the newly christened ESS Sokol with froth and foam to the sound of uproarious applause. Further adding to the newly erupted tumult, the band struck up with a rendition of 'Anchors Aweigh', the anthem of the Equestrian Navy.

Yet for all the chaotic celebration, the world seemed mute. Orzel couldn't help but ponder if the specter she'd seen had actually been there, or was it just the glare from the sun? She was given little time to think, however, as three loud horns echoed from around the dry dock. Orzel watched as the bow of the ship rapidly began to slide away from her, down the slipway towards the waiting ocean. The ship bobbed up and down like a cork, gradually leveling out and floating proudly for all to see. Once again it felt as if the ship was staring right back at her, rapidly being secured by a series of tug boats waiting beyond, which strained to keep her from floating too far out into the channel... Unpowered as she was, it was taking a mighty effort to rein Sokol in before her journey could begin to the fitting-out pier.

According to Imperial Naval tradition, a sponsor was said to imbue a ship with a piece of their personality. From her research into the ceremony, that was much the same tradition as that of the Equestrian Navy. So, that raised the question... Just what part of herself had Orzel imbued within the silent steel colossus proceeding out to sea? The ship was a misunderstood oddity, but it was clear she wanted to strike no matter her condition, no matter where her foes might hide, to do her duty and lay all her terrible wrath down upon any and all who might threaten that which she loved.

"At least I did not bestow upon her an anxious disposition..." Orzel mumbled in Szafirian, smiling faintly, as now she could see more of herself in the implacable steel hull. Yet another feeling of strangeness passed through her mind, or perhaps the strangeness was that she didn't feel much of anything... Not much of anything negative, at least. The speech hadn't been nearly as frightening as she'd imagined it would be, not after she'd actually started of talking in front of people... Now she'd hopefully at least ingratiated herself more so with Equestria's citizenry, though she doubted the people Canterlot would be swayed, it still proved one less item to worry about. That was more than welcome, for even with the growing sounds of adulation at her back, the weight of the crown upon Orzel's brow still lingered ever heavy on her mind...

Princess Celestia had seen more than her share of 'Bad Days' throughout her long rule, and in the grand scheme of things today hardly made the top five hundred. The start of Nightmare War still held the first spot, followed by Discord's rise, the death of her parents... Yet for as insignificant as the day might've seemed when compared to all the other nasty events of her life, in the moment the day was instilling in the typically serene woman's mind a growing sense of frustration. It was difficult enough dealing with the impudent fury of the Noble Party, but thankfully the Senior Councilman agreed to follow her directive and continued holding sessions. Those that refused to appear were counted as abstaining whenever a vote came to pass, and there were many such votes in just the twelve hours since the declaration came from Luna... That wasn't the issue most present in Celestia's mind, however.

What so heavily ruined Celestia's morning thus far was Orzel's address, more specifically her mention of where she'd come from. The matter of the young Princess's origins was something that'd come up numerous times, but Celestia was generally able to deflect the question or answer with a half-truth. Orzel's ability to speak Kwarczkie, now more commonly referred to as Szafirian, drew not just the attention of Equestria's citizenry, but that of several enigmatic private parties in the Greater Dragonlands as well. From diplomats, to clan leaders, even a monastery... The latter-most group seemed far less surprised than she would've liked, and Celestia suspected they knew a lot more than they let on. What deity they worshiped also was a point of contention, as they hadn't actually made that clear. They were just 'a monastery'. Perhaps she'd need to have Director Aquila look into them.

Setting aside unknown third-parties interest in Orzel's origins, the fact of the matter was that Celestia wasn't entirely sure how well Equestria would handle the news that their latest Princess was an 'alien'. While technically an accurate term, Orzel was a descendent of Drakes that had vanished from the surface of the planet thousands of years ago, apparently to colonize some far flung plane of existence. A year or so before, she'd received a friendship report from Twilight Sparkle that troubled her, and it'd been a growing concern ever since Orzel's arrival. The entire town of Ponyville panicked and actively ostracized a zebra named Zecora, who'd moved there to serve as a sort of apothecary...

Zebrica was another continent, so how would people react to someone from not only an entirely different planet, but a planet in another reality. Thankfully, it seemed Ponyville was in a far better place now, but they had the guiding hand of Twilight Sparkle to open their minds. The rest of Equestria wasn't so fortunate... At least there hadn't been any riots, so they had that going for them. Celestia didn't know what she'd do if things got out of hand. Realistically the subject of Orzel's origins was probably something she and Luna should've discussed beforehand... Hindsight was twenty-twenty, and she supposed one way or another the news would've inevitably leaked. The point was that now, in the wake of her niece's speech, the people of Equestria and beyond were asking point blank.

"Where does the Princess hail from, if not the Dragonlands!?" Shouted a journalist at the back of the press room, a small and otherwise unassuming chamber situated in the Castle's Public Wing. Arrayed with curious eyes, resting in columns and rows of folding chairs, the eager story seekers hung on every word. Celestia stood at the podium before them all, her features remaining calm with the practice of a thousand years, though her wings fluttered with evident frustration. "Are there other dragon settlements the Crown isn't telling us about?"

"If you could all please be patient, I'll do my best to answer your questions." Celestia responded in her typical gentle matronly voice, smiling at the crowd. They thankfully were willing to accept her request, as the chattering questions gradually subsided. "Princess Orzel comes from the Szafirian Empire, a nation situated in another realm of existence. While her ancestors were of Equus, it seems they left our world thousands of years ago to settle on another planet." The silence became almost deafening, each reporter staring at Celestia with wide expressive eyes, their jaws slightly agape. "Now, I understand this news may come as a shock to most of you, but I ask that you bear in mind the existence of other 'extra planar' societies... Like that of the Breezies, for example. I was not aware of the Szafirian Empire's existence until a short while ago, and as they have no presence here, I saw no reason to announce its existence."

"So, Princess Orzel is an alien?!" One of the reporters suddenly blurted, leading to a chorus of similar questions. Celestia inwardly sighed, as if the girl didn't have enough to deal with. The woman could already imagine the headlines, likely set above a doctored picture of a UFO or some other foolishness. "Is Princess Luna aware?! Why did Princess Orzel conceal her origins?!"

"Technically, yes, Princess Orzel is an 'alien'. Also, of course Princess Luna is aware." Celestia responded calmly, maintaining her confident exterior. The damage would be far less severe so long as she commanded the stage, calm levelheadedness would hopefully inspire the same within the reporters. "I'd also contend that my niece didn't conceal her origins. She spoke quite candidly on the matter, as evidenced by the fact we're even having this discussion." The Princess added, looking over the crowd with quiet contemplation. It seemed her bid at remaining calm was working, the word 'alien' hadn't hit with the amount of punch she'd been fearing... In this matter, honest transparency could be the only solution. Omitting details on an issue so massive would undermine Celestia's credibility, and eventually Orzel's authority when it came time for her to rule. "Moreover, it shouldn't be of concern where she came from. As of her formal adoption by Princess Luna and ascension into the Crown, pending her naturalization as an Equestrian citizen, Princess Orzel resides in Equestria as a legal alien. A highly patriotic one at that. That's all that should matter."

"Was she sent here purposefully? Is Equestria opening relations with this 'Szafirian Empire'?" Thankfully this question wasn't as frantic or booming as the others, coming from a young man in the front row. Celestia looked him over, he was a somewhat husky Earth Walker, with a large belt buckle, and a bolo tie secured by a silver clasp. The clasp was inset with turquoise stone, which matched his eyes incredibly well. Notably, this young man wasn't wearing a Press Pass... The neatly combed brown hair, coupled with a single white star pin on his lapel, more than made up for that though. "Should we be concerned about other, less 'patriotic', arrivals? Overall, what else can you tell us?"

"Mister Longhorn, I'm pleased to see the Senior Councilman is following the news..." Celestia acknowledged cordially, nodding to the man before addressing the crowd. "Several months ago, on the night of Princess Orzel's arrival, the capitol of the Szafirian Empire was sacked by a hostile force..." The woman waited a moment, allowing the news to sink in. Eager grins faded somewhat, so Celestia decided to strike while the iron was hot. "The Princess and her Biological Mother barely escaped, and due to a fluke of magic caused by an improperly cast spell, arrived in the Castle Gardens.

"Two of their attackers followed them, and were killed, but not before mortally wounding the Princess's Mother..." The woman straightened. "At this time Equestria is not capable of pursuing relations with the Szafirian Empire, and the odds of other unexpected visitors arriving here remains a statistic improbability. Nonetheless, we are looking into it, and taking all necessary measures to ensure a state of continued national security." The woman looked to a man standing to her right. "If you have any further questions, please direct them to my Press Secretary... Excuse me."

With that, the Princess stepped away from the Podium and made for the exit. There was a sudden uproar of questions, but within a matter of seconds Celestia was safely within the outer hall. The marble amplified the noise, but all the questions became indistinct and therefore easier to ignore. There was a reason Faust made Press Secretaries. Of course, things couldn't have been that simple, as she heard a pair of heavy-set clomping footsteps approaching from behind. The oddly heavy click against stone denoted a pair of cowboy boots, and there was only one person in the Press Room wearing those. Glancing over her shoulder, the Princess was unsurprised to see the young man from the front row.

"I've told you all I can, Mister Longhorn..." Celestia stated with exasperation as the man finally caught up with her. Longhorn was one of the few young people that the Princess didn't altogether like, though not on his own accord. He was a competent aide, he asked questions, sometimes inconvenient questions, and overall did his job well. That job, unfortunately, usually included returning to his boss and spilling the beans on whatever palace intrigue or national security crisis might be brewing. Celestia had purposefully kept him away from information about Orzel for precisely that reason, but now the cat was fully out of the bag. "The Senior Councilman will have more information when the Nocturne Agency completes its security assessment, not a moment sooner."

"The Nocturne Agency? The same Nocturne Agency personally overseen by Princess Luna, adoptive mother of Princess Orzel? That Nocturne Agency?" Longhorn asked in his characteristic 'non-accusing-acusatory' way. This time, the implied accusation was some sort of impropriety on Luna's part, not entirely rare among the National Council, though out of character for the Senior Councilman's Office. "Councilor Spindletop doesn't like getting involved in Princess Luna's affairs, you know that, but he'll tan my hide quicker than you can say 'We come in peace!' if I don't give him something substantial when, surprise surprise, it turns aliens are not only real, but will one day run the country!" Celestia sighed, stopping and turning to face her annoying follower with a less than pleased expression. "Look, with the Noble's temporarily routing from the Council we finally have a chance to get some work done! The more info we have, the more we can work together, maybe help further legitimize the al- Princess Orzel's claim! Come on, gimme something!"

"This is about more than getting work done, Mister Longhorn!" Celestia stated harshly, once again her wings quivering with annoyance. "I refuse to reveal more detail than I must, not for my own sake, not on account of any wild conspiracies, but for the sake of my niece." Her voice was a bit more forceful than she'd wanted it to be, but the chastened look on Longhorn's face told her that her point was getting across. "I realize you and Senior Councilman Spindletop mean well, but this is a matter the Crown prefers to handle internally... She lost her home, her mother, and her world all in one night... Surely you understand why it must be handled delicately? Would you want the gruesome details of the worst day of your life splayed across the front page of every newspaper, tabloid, and magazine in Equestria?"

"No, ma'am... Don't suppose I would." Longhorn agreed, glancing over his shoulder at the distant Press Room, then back at the Princess. "While I wouldn't tell those vultures anything, I ain't so sure about other folks in the Senior Councilman's office, and I know they'd find out..." The man tucked his hands into the pockets of his suit jacket, looking at the floor. "Is there anything I can bring to the Senior Councilman? Anything at all? Any bill the Crown wants to push forward?" That was a difficult question to answer, at least in an official capacity.

Celestia sighed, putting her hands on her hips as she pondered the question. With the Noble Party currently refusing to take part in Equestria's government, Celestia could likely pass dozens of bills she'd wanted to enact throughout the years... Most notable, and normally least likely to pass, was a proposition to curtail the powers of the National Council. Not to keep them from having a say Equestria's government, but to return them to their original purpose. Running the country's day to day, making it simpler for Celestia and Luna to rule and deal with the larger things. In fact, she found it ironic that the most recent 'larger things' more often then not originated as a result of the National Council...

"Bill Two-Fifty..." Celestia finally admitted, earning a somewhat uncertain look from Longhorn. "You and Spindletop are of a vanishing breed, Longhorn. If things continue as they are, one day the National Council may be filled with people that want to use it for ill, and with no one to stand in their way..." This time it was Celestia's turn to imply, Longhorn understood immediately the group she was referring to. "Sometimes for a forest to survive, a wildfire must burn away the overgrowth." Celestia's features became a bit more serious. "Of course, officially the Crown would never presume to instruct the Senior Councilor on what bills his office should and shouldn't pursue pertaining to its own operations, only that the Council continue to hold session regardless of mass abstentions." Longhorn stared blankly at Celestia as she turned and walked away, apparently stunned, before rapidly collecting himself and turning back towards the Press Room... Leaving Celestia, finally, to her own thoughts.

What she proposed would make many people unhappy, at least in the immediate sense. Celestia, however, was always more concerned with the broader picture. It was just a fact of life that sometimes positions of power drew those that sought to misuse that power, and the larger Equestria's government became, the harder it would be to stop them. Bill 250 would condense many of Equestria's provinces into larger but easier to manage 'states', overseen by elected governors. They'd have greater autonomy, but the states would remain united beneath the overarching rule of the Crown.

It would likewise cut the amount of seats in the National Council from over 500 to a more manageable 250, hence the name... 250 would also grant the Crown broader veto powers, and required a vote within the Royal Family to overturn a veto. It also laid the ground work that would allow for the creation of another legislative body, one that in the future would eventually replace the National Council entirely. That was a long term goal, however. The most recent addition would cement in law what had already been set by years of precedent, that members of the Crown were beholden only to the Crown itself when it came to how they conducted their personal lives.

The bill was nearly as old as the Council itself, occasionally being modernized and tossed around by the Non-Aligned Councilors with the intention of riling up the Noble Party, but otherwise sitting upon the proverbial shelf, gathering dust. Celestia now had an opportunity to start repairing Equestria's broken system, with fewer Councilors the extent of their overreach would at the very least be reduced. The idea for the bill came about, oddly enough, after reading through some of Luna's old journals from before the Nightmare War... Though her younger sister's ideas were far more brutal in their crackdown on the Council's powers, including provisions for severe punishments in the event a Councilor was found to have willfully acted against the interests of those they represented.

Her sister hadn't been in a very positive state of mind at the time, but the line between genius and madness tended to be wafer thin. Luna's journals leaned obviously closer to the latter, as the ideas were written shortly after the Tribal Council had ruled against Luna's romance with Observos the Watchful. The Council's decision, and Celestia's acquiescence to enforce it, was ultimately what set Luna and Celestia on the collision course that had cost the latter a thousand years without her sibling and the former... Everything. While inconceivable in modern Equestria, the National Council could still technically rule against a Princess's relationship, hence the recent additions to 250. In fact that was what provided the very framework for their 'Decency Demands'.

Thankfully, Senior Councilman Spindletop was among the few Council members that actually seemed to care about good governance. The Council's eldest and longest serving member, Spindletop was an Earth Walker from the great southern province of Lone Star. A sprightly eighty nine years young, he didn't look a day over sixty, and whenever he spoke it was with all the fire and fury he'd shown in his youth. The irascible Senior Councilor kept his ear close to the ground in all matters, Longhorn was just one of his many 'assistants', all in service of 'keeping the Council honest'... Or, as honest as it could be kept. Celestia would've been more than pleased with his actions if he didn't have a habit of not dropping things better left alone. Unbeknownst to him, he'd nearly gotten a pair of Nocturne Agents killed when he inadvertently blew their cover during one of his moral crusades.

Passing Bill 250 would come at a hefty cost, Celestia realized that, but she doubted the immediate price would outweigh the long term benefit. Perhaps a seat on the Emergency Security Council would sate the Senior Councilman's appetite for accountability, though he'd likely end up sprouting a great deal more gray hairs. Speaking of the potential stress induced by the ESC...

Celestia became acutely aware of a pair of footsteps suddenly presenting themselves to her left, glancing at their source, the woman let out a startled yelp and jumped a good five feet in the air. Director Aquila came to a halt and stared at her blankly, his impassive eyes hidden behind his tinted glasses, as if he hadn't just materialized out of thin air. The man reached into his suit jacket, retrieving a soft purple packet of cigarettes and placing one in his lips.

"D-Director..." Celestia stammered, the man simply nodded, slipping his cigarette packet back into his suit. Adjusting her gown, the Princess composed herself and commenced walking again. She heard the familiar flick of his flip lighter, the sparking of the striker wheel, the hiss of burning lighter fluid... Within moments, the familiar acrid stench of cigarette smoke brutally assaulted her nostrils. "Must you do that now?" She glowered at the man, who responded simply by exhaling through his nose and shaking his head.

"I'm surprised you haven't asked me for one, given how the day has gone..." The man responded distantly, clasping his hands behind his back. "The news cycle isn't doing us any favors, nor is the National Council. The economy is steady, thank the Gods, but people are getting anxious. I've just received a report from Darkstar..." The man's voice was uncharacteristically grim, even more so than his usually dour expression let on. At first Celestia assumed he'd arrived to discuss the matter with Orzel, but Celestia now realized there was a matter of far greater importance in the man's thoughts. "Containment on Discord is holding, for now, but the statue is putting off nearly two thousand Arc-Rads. If it grows any higher, radiation suits and supplements won't be enough to counter the effects. We could lose people."

"Is Twilight alright?" Celestia asked anxiously, to which the Director gave only a simple nod. "You're still certain that you can keep him contained, long enough for us to attempt to reform him?" The Director's nod was far more emphatic this time, and despite the shaded glasses, Celestia could see a brief flash of hesitation in the man's eyes. The enigmatic Director always seemed aloof in Celestia's presence, and almost inappropriately familiar when Luna was around. She realized the two were friends, and far be it from her to condemn a sort of camaraderie between ruler and subject, but... The two were unnaturally close, not in a romantic fashion, more a 'very old friends' sort of way. "Have you gleaned anything now that he's in your custody? Any idea as to what, if anything, is happening within his mind?"

"There are some veils even I can't see beyond." Aquila explained, his face cast down towards the floor. Something wasn't right about him, and Celestia couldn't really place it at first. The answer was simple enough, and it wasn't uncommon for the Director to be unable to 'see' things... This just appeared to be the only time it bothered him on some personal level. His face was the very visage of internal conflict and... Remorse? That was another emotion she'd never seen the Director express. Any emotion at all was out of the ordinary, so something had to be at play...

"Director..." Celestia's voice was cautious, firm, soothing... Her best imitation of her sister's characteristic tempo and tone, hopefully it would trigger some sort of ease in the Director. She didn't just want to make him feel better, though that was part of her reasoning... No, there was something Aquila wanted to say, but for whatever reason he wouldn't. Celestia didn't want to find out about some terrible problem at the last minute, especially now if Discord's statue was becoming so hazardous to work around. "I realize you and I don't see eye to eye, but if there's something you aren't telling me, I need to know."

The Director stopped walking, by now they had reached the section of the castle near the throne room, where a great many stained glass windows resided. He turned to face one of the windows, this one in particular depicting the first appearance of Discord. How remarkably appropriate...

Enshrined in the glass, people cowered away from a horrific chaotic creature, all save one. Standing against the towering beast, a darkly armored figure stood with sword in hand. The man was one that at one time Celestia faced in battle, though not in direct combat. Legate Orcus of the Thestral Imperium, one of Luna's most trusted advisers before the onset of the Nightmare War. The Legate was the only General that Celestia's armies ever failed to defeat in that conflict so many centuries ago. A man that abruptly vanished near the end of the war, and likely for the best. It was very likely the conflict would've raged well after Luna's banishment if he'd remained to lead the fight. Aquila stared at the image, his features hardening, until finally he shook his head. The Princess couldn't quite place it, but for some reason the image of the Director looking at Orcus struck her as hauntingly apropos.

"I swore an oath, a long time ago..." Aquila finally muttered, the cherry on his cigarette gradually starting to die as he let it smolder, standing before the great panes of glass in subdued... Regret? "I would like to tell you everything, Princess, believe me... The oath prevents me from disclosing to you the details at present, all I can truly say is that..." The man trailed off, turning to look back at Celestia with renewed resolve. Taking a drag on his cigarette, sparing its fading ember, he straightened his posture. "If Project Tartarus works, if Discord can be reformed, we will do more than save our world from the threats of another realm... We will set right a wrong that should've been corrected a thousand years ago."

"I am all for making a friend of my enemy, but 'righting' past wrongs...?" Celestia asked pointedly, her eyes returning to the stained glass image. Laying on the ground at Orcus feet was a figure, immortalized in the unfeeling glass, just as still and heart wrenching as when Celestia had witnessed it herself. The prone body was that of Observos, the source from which so much of Luna's grief flowed. For all his magical skill and knowledge, he ultimately proved no match for Discord alone, and the God of Chaos had cut him down as swiftly and as thoughtlessly as a scythe through wheat. "Reforming Discord will preserve the present, and the future, but it won't undo what he did in the past, Director... Nothing can change history." At this, Aquila let out a dry humorless chuckle, followed by a disapproving shake of his head.

"History may be written by the victor, Princess, but the truth always finds the light." Bluntly commented the Director, turning on his heels and commencing to walk down the hallway once more. The man exhaled a remarkably sized cloud of smoke, which billowed and expanded unnaturally, filling the entire hallway with the same stench of tobacco and ash that Celestia so despised. The Princess watched the gray wisps expand and curl around the Director's form, completely enveloping him. "Is your memory as good as you think it is?" The Director added cryptically before the sound of his shoes against the castle floor fell silent. Flapping her wings to clear the air, Celestia observed the dissipating the cloud without much surprise. The Director had entirely vanished, gone into thin air. If nothing else, the man had a flair for the dramatic exit.

"I hate it when he does that." Celestia muttered, conjuring her magic to dissipate the lingering odor left by the Director's nasty habit. The hallway was soon filled with the sweet scent of vanilla, a far more pleasing aroma for anyone that would walk through that passage later on. Making her way along past the other stained glass fixtures, Celestia was looking forward to a chance to get back to her chambers. The idea of filling out paperwork was almost exciting, at least paperwork didn't pester her with questions or disappear in puffs of smoke. Of course, fate had other plans for her. Coming to an intersection of hallways, she was greeted by a surprising visitor, though one that was less welcome. "The hallways are like Canterlot Central Station today..."

"Nice to see you too, Aunty." Blueblood responded, falling in lockstep beside Celestia as she continued on her less than merry way. "I'm pleased to have found you, I was worried I'd need to go to Princess Cadenza..." Celestia arched an eyebrow at the man. "Cadence." He corrected before adjusting the tie of his rather dashing three piece pinstripe suit. "I was wondering if I could convince you to reconsider your decision on just who to invite to the Gala?" Celestia's features hardened, of course this was what Blueblood wanted to talk about, heaven forbid his social life from being impacted... "Please, hear me out before you bite my head off, okay?"

"You have until I reach my quarters." Celestia stated through clenched teeth, though she tried to sound less annoyed than she actually was. Blueblood typically wasn't nearly as annoying as he seemed to be, Celestia had realized that a while ago. His ostentatious mannerisms and irascible personality were by and large a facade, a suit of armor with which he could do battle against the Canterlot political machine. Behind that armor hid the heart of an incredibly caring, if somewhat egotistical, gentleman. The problem was that Blueblood didn't know when to take the armor off, and so even to his friends and family he came off as an incredibly shallow jerk.

"Right, yes, well the matter is pertaining to Mister Jet Set and Lady Upper Crust." Blueblood began, tucking his hands into his jacket as they grew deeper into the 'private' section of the Castle. "I realize they're not the biggest supporters of Princess Orzel, or Princess Luna, but they nonetheless hold incredible sway over the Noble Party. Shutting them out of Canterlot's most important social gathering will make gaining their favor more difficult than usual. Upper Crust in particular sits on the Committee for School Funding, without her we won't be able to enact our reforms towards School Choice."

"Normally I would agree with you, Blueblood, but this is bigger than School Choice." Celestia countered as the pair began to ascend a set of steps, which in turn lead to a spiral staircase leading further upwards. "The Noble Party is accustomed to getting their way if they throw a tantrum. Princess Luna, and to lesser extent Princess Orzel, represent a departure from a status quo that has remained more or less unchanged for a thousand years... On general principle, Luna and Orzel are less likely to concede or compromise where you or I might. In short, the Nobles see them both as an existential threat to their way of life." The woman sighed, seeing that Blueblood still seemed insistent on her changing her mind. "I see now that I've let the Council run amok for far too long, conceded far too many times. That is why, even if it renders difficulty in the present, I must curtail them... Lest Equestria devolve into little more than their personal playground." Celestia shook her head. "My ruling stands..."

"I hope you're right..." Blueblood responded as the pair ascended the steps to the Castle's next floor. "If you're wrong, and this does little more than enrage the Nobles, making any sort of progress in the National Council will take years, possibly decades." Celestia nodded, it was a matter she'd thought on ever since first issuing her statement denouncing the Council's demands. Blueblood's mask of general indifference slipped for a moment, and Celestia could see genuine concern flash through his eyes. "There's more to this than just putting your foot down, isn't there...?" Celestia stopped for a moment, pondering just on if she could entrust such information to her nephew.

"Luna fears the effects the Council's demands are having a negative effect Princess Orzel's mental health. The sort that, if let unchecked, might result in a very large, very scaly, very very angry problem, if you understand my meaning." Celestia stated diplomatically, at which point Blueblood drew his hands from his pocket and clasped them behind his back, not unlike the Director some minutes before. His face was impassive, but his eyes told the story. He was troubled, and he didn't become troubled easily. "I realize you may not appreciate the girl, but I ask that you refrain from spreading that information. It is a matter of family, the Equestria public need not be made aware."

"This may surprise you, Aunt Celestia, but knowing that now, I agree." Her nephew stated earnestly, once again allowing his mask fall away. "We allow the Council to censure our personal lives at our own peril... As for young Orzel's health?" The man cast a brief glance out a window as the pair continued through the hallway, they were nearing Celestia's chambers now. "A child not embraced by a village will burn it down to feel its warmth." He straightened his tie. "A drastic oversimplification of the issue, I know, but I believe you understand my point. Beyond the obvious moral questions, allowing them to set a precedent with Princess Orzel would have had far reaching implications for any other persons the Crown later decides to elevate to the position of Royalty." Just like that, the mask of annoyance returned in earnest. "I still urge you to reconsider, excluding all the Noble Party members that refuse to accept your edict will make for a far less invigorating party."

"Leave that to me, Nephew. There's more than one way to throw a gala." Celestia countered, turning her attention to the approaching wooden doors of her chamber entrance. She'd been planning to invite Twilight Sparkle for some time, for various reasons... Spike was also on the list of possibles. While Luna didn't particularly care for the idea of her daughter meeting a teenage boy, Celestia knew that sooner or later the two, being the only prominently known Drakes in Equestria, would eventually need to be meet... Better sooner than later. Celestia shook her head, she was losing focus again. "Anyway, if you will excuse me, there are some papers that need signing before I can begin afternoon court." Without waiting for his response, Celestia entered the doors. 'Some papers' was putting it mildly, they were easily stacked high enough to reach her ceiling. It was just going to be one of those days...

Chapter 11

The session started, as they so often did, with the same question Doctor Scratch always asked. Orzel, as always, responded with the same answer. The question being 'How are you feeling this week?', and the inevitable reply, 'I am okay, I guess?'. The customary back and forth that followed the question typically elapsed in much the same way, though it was more or less surface level conversation. Orzel had noticed the pattern fairly quickly, though she didn't see any need to bring it up. It wasn't overly bothersome to just idly chat, as after all it was chatter that served a purpose. More often than not, that brief span of five minutes just discussing the week would lead to some sort of appreciable topic, and further steps towards better mental health, or perhaps an emotional breakthrough. Today was more or less the same, with the exception of some initial uncertainty regarding what matters were of significant importance.

That uncertainty could have been avoided if Luna was present to explain the goings on of the past week, her absence alone presented just another of the innumerable things on Orzel's mind. Luna and Aunt Celestia were away, called to some distant emergency that they couldn't give any details about. It was likely far more involved than that, considering her staunch protectors Grim and Fable had taken to wearing pistols concealed beneath their suit jackets... Well, larger pistols than usual, at least. They didn't think she'd noticed, but it was hard to hide the impressive bulk of .44 Caliber revolvers. Orzel's mind briefly wandered to the evening two nights before, when first she'd briefly met with the handsome Mister Spike.

Luna and Celestia had departed abruptly, before the conclusion of the hectic festivities, with little more than a kiss on the forehead and a fond farewell that hadn't lasted nearly long enough. The disaster that followed their exit included a pack of frightened wild animals and the toppling of several stone pillars, which drew a great deal of attention away from the Princesses' absence. It wasn't a secret that Ambassador Flaumfeder wanted to speak to Luna about some matter of unknown nature, and she doubted that her Mother and Aunt's sudden departure so shortly afterward was a coincidence. Consequently, the days since the conclusion of the Grand Galloping Gala were spent contemplating every conceivable 'nightmare scenario' that Orzel's frantic mind concoct.

Orzel's companion at the time, Mister Spike, was likewise spirited away by Twilight Sparkle. That wound up leaving the youthful Princess Orzel as one of the only representatives of the two sisters to deal with the matter of cleaning up the mess, at least in a literal sense. Cousin Blueblood proved an excellent help in smoothing any feathers that might've been ruffled by the sudden arrival of so many wild animals from the garden, and the recently arrived Cousin Cadenza was instrumental in coaxing the various creatures back outside, but it was Orzel that had to aid the cleaning staff in ensuring entire ballroom was scrubbed from floor to ceiling... She'd not gotten to bed until nearly five-thirty in the morning.

Cadenza, or Cadence as she insisted she be called, at least helped take up some of the administrative slack left in Celestia's absence. While technically a more 'Senior' Princess in terms of amount of time with the title, Cadence didn't hold the title of 'Crown-Princess', which made Orzel the de facto 'head honcho', to use another Equestrian turn of phrase. Thus Orzel had been called upon to fill the Obsidian Throne in her Mother's stead, though most of those duties were understandably delegated to Luna's various advisers. After all, Orzel was too young to wield the full breadth of her royal powers, even in this apparent time of crisis. That was understandable, the situation was only temporary after all, though Orzel still doubted anyone would take her seriously, even when she came of age...

The only sign that either her Mother or her Aunt still drew breath was the unwavering dance of the moon and sun, which only recently Orzel had come to realize were truly controlled by the two elder Princesses. Prior to that, she'd assumed the title 'Regent of the Night' was taken in a figurative sense... It was just another of the wondrous powers the two sisters could perform, a power Orzel would hopefully one day learn herself.

The girl's mind returned briefly to Cadence, a woman as bizarre as she was beautiful. She played the role of Princess well enough, but the regal stoicism Orzel expected of Luna, as well as Celestia's more maternal mannerisms, were both sorely lacking. Cadence was, to the teen's utter confusion, a self described 'Modern Princess'... Yet the woman didn't seem to know the first thing about engineering, or applied enchanting, or even electricity for that matter. How could she claim to be a Modern Princess if she didn't know the first thing about Modern technology?

More unnervingly, the woman seemed hellbent on involving herself in Orzel's life, to a borderline uncomfortable extent. With Luna and Celestia gone to deal with the emergency, and Blueblood busy doing whatever it was Blueblood did, Cadence's care was ultimately inflicted upon the diminutive teenager without so much as a word of warning. The woman sang, danced, and roved the Castle, spreading her irrepressible happiness like some sort of... Something. Orzel couldn't really find a decent comparison.

The closest approximation Orzel could come up with was the exact polar opposite of one of the 'Orc-Folk' that the Szafirian Empire was forced to eradicate in the century following its founding. According to Imperial historical accounts, the Orc-Folk spread chaos and destruction with much the same reckless abandon as Cadence spread love and joy. The woman had to have some sort of mental illness, that was the only conclusion the brooding teen could draw, as no sane person was that naturally chipper.

Frustratingly, Cadence insisted that Orzel join in upon her marauding mirthful escapades, among other strange rituals that Cadence insisted were meant to be 'Girl Time'. A previously unknown measure of time that Orzel found most disturbing... The way Cadence described 'Girl Time' was under the equally vague title of doing 'Princess' things, yet the tasks that made up both activities were not related in the slightest to the running of government. Instead they leaned more towards the topic of vanity and physical comfort, with Cadence's stated intention being a desire to help Orzel 'relax'...

That Orzel strenuously protested to such notions had little effect, which served only to shorten her exponentially dwindling fuse. The teen didn't need to relax, she didn't need to be 'pampered', especially if it came at the expense of the Equestrian taxpayer. Sure, Orzel didn't mind getting 'dressed up' as much as she did before, purely for state functions of course, but some of Cadence's ideas seemed ludicrous at best. Ear piercings, painted nails, and an oxymoronic thing called a 'mud bath'... Yet, much to Orzel's shock, there apparently existed a considerable industry and economy based around such things. That raised a number of other questions...

"Orzel." Doctor Scratch's calm insistent voice pulled the teen from her internal assessments, as if a splash of cold water suddenly struck her across the face. Blinking owlishly as she returned to the moment, then adjusting her spectacles, she looked at Doctor Scratch with an apologetic blush of embarrassment. "You were off in your own world again, hmm?" The teen nodded sheepishly, glancing out one of the office's windows at the bustling city beyond. "Mind telling me what you were thinking of?" Orzel rubbed her chin, pondering just what to say as her eyes once more fell upon her counselor. She supposed this was precisely the reason she came to Doctor Scratch in the first place, to ask questions she didn't feel comfortable asking others.

"Do you think I am 'uptight'?" The Princess asked bluntly, apparently catching the Doctor briefly off guard, but the woman quickly gathered herself. When she didn't get an immediate answer, Orzel clarified. "More precisely, do you think I am overly serious? Puritanical?" The girl looked at the floor, a brief bolt of shame running through her... For various reasons. "I feel my cousin insists on further expanding my vanity. I fear, however, that what I am perceiving as vanity is actually the norm... That I am viewing her as the National Council once viewed me." Scratch hummed thoughtfully, nodding her head as she took in the question.

"I'm not here to pass judgment..." Doctor Scratch began, clicking her pen and scribbling on her notepad. It was a new one, as far as Orzel could figure, likely the seventeenth the Doctor had filled since they'd begun their sessions, not that Orzel was counting or anything... Scratch's non-answer didn't help to assuage the growing tide of emotions, but Orzel had a feeling there was more to come. "I take it these 'vain' behaviors would be abnormal among your own people?" The teen nodded quietly. "Could you give me a few examples?" Orzel instinctively gestured to a few almond colored locks peeking out from beneath her amber headscarf, then to Doctor Scratch's head, specifically her electric blue hair.

"She thinks I should style my hair more 'freely, with highlights, or that I should pierce my ears. I realize Equestrian medical science is superior to Szafirian, but to risk an infection over earrings and other baubles...?" Orzel explained sourly, subconsciously brushing some of her hair back beneath the scarf. Her view of the world, and those 'potential threats' surrounding her, had only started to change recently, following her meeting Mister Spike at the Grand Galloping Gala. Where Mister Spike presented little in the way of a conceivable danger, except perhaps to her already tenuous and shameful feelings about her orientation, Cadence was an unknown factor of a different sort. Her interest in caring for Orzel almost equaled that of Luna's, and that fleeting thought set her mind to racing with new unbridled fears. "I do not understand why she insists on being so nice to me..."

"Are you sure your worries are really the result of a distaste for vanity, as you said?" Doctor Scratch's voice was strange, as if she was trying to find a lead, which was rather uncommon for the typically well spoken counselor. "Isn't it possible that it may have more to do with your orientation?" Orzel looked at the floor, in all honesty perhaps that was also a contributing factor, though she suspected that was only a part of it. "You mentioned you met a boy at the Gala when we began our discussion today, from what I heard, you spoke quite highly of him... You also mentioned he reminded you of someone you once knew in Cesarski. Is there more to it than that?" Orzel nodded, lacing her fingers in her lap while sighing through her nose.

"Yes... Bazyli." The girl admitted somberly. "I did not know him well, we were not close by any sense, but... When first I met him thought I was I becoming ill, and it is a feeling I encountered once again with Mister Spike..." The girl explained, unable to keep the shame from creeping into her voice. They had made remarkable progress in getting her to accept herself for who she was, but years of conditioning to hate people such as herself, to see herself as a dissident and loathsome creature, was difficult to overcome. "I realized, only after our evening was cut short, that the sensation I felt was... Attraction." Orzel shook her head, sniffling as the feeling of disgrace ignited a cauldron of remorse. "I worry now that I am actually not truly attracted to him, that I am merely..." She trailed off. "How do you say... Faking it? To convince myself I am something that I am not?" She cleared her throat, crossing her arms. "I do not like this feeling." Orzel shook her head. "Regardless of my being... How I am... I feel it has little to do with why I dislike Cadence's proposed 'spa days'..." The Doctor hummed thoughtfully.

"I had a suspicion, but I wanted to be sure..." Doctor Scratch finally admitted, much to Orzel's surprise. "You said you don't understand why Cadence is so insistent on being nice to you, I would hazard it goes beyond 'being nice'. You feel she's trying to get close to you, yes? Much like Luna did?" Orzel nodded again, silently looking at the Doctor's contemplative face. "Would you be so against Cadence's ideas if your Mother suggested them instead?"

The specter of fear and foreboding once more began to take shape in Orzel's mind, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't beat it back into submission. Orzel knew, intellectually at least, that the odds of those fears coming to pass were infinitesimally small... Yet slim as the odds may have been, her fear took root with the tenacity of an invasive weed.

"No..." The girl said timidly, her heart becoming a roiling cauldron of uncertainty and dread. "I would not be against them, had Mother made the suggestion. Uncertain, maybe, but not opposed..." She rubbed her knees nervously while her foot began to tap against the floor. Her trousers, known locally as 'jeans', were reinforced with small copper rivets, and made from soft twill fabric, dyed in indigo. The remarkable fabric, which the Equestrian's called 'Denim', was as versatile as it was comfortable... The girl shook her head, her mind was trying to divert her attention to anything but the yawning chasm of terror that loomed before it. "I do not know why..." Doctor Scratch's features remained serious at first, but gradually grew more sympathetic.

"I think you do, even if you don't think that's the case." The woman stated simply, making a few more notes in her book. "Your Mother and Aunt both left with hardly a word of warning, to deal with a situation you know nothing about... To put themselves, potentially, in harms way." Orzel stared at the woman, the words rattling about her head with the staccato clatter of a metal pipe slamming against a garbage can. The visage of anxiety suddenly rushed forth in all its terrible detail, barreling down upon the girl's peace of mind as unrelentingly fast as a runaway steam locomotive.

Of all the 'nightmare scenarios' Orzel's mind could conjure, all the possible terrors that haunted her dreams, this was without a doubt the worst. The possibility that Luna and Celestia might not return from whatever emergency had called them away, and if that possibility should come to pass, Orzel would find herself under the guardianship of Cousins Blueblood and Cadence. Moreover, as Crown Princess, she would ascend the throne without nearly enough knowledge to effectively lead a country that very well could be in crisis, and undoubtedly in mourning. Orphaned... Again. This time with no one to call upon, no one to trust implicitly, no one but herself, forced to face whatever emergency had killed the only people she had left...

"I..." Orzel's voice became as hollow and brittle, as a rotten tree trunk, left to dry out in the sun. There were no tears in her eyes, thankfully. She had managed to restrain the sudden flood of rekindled grief, outwardly at least, beneath the straining stoic mask. "I do not know if I could survive losing my family again..." She practically whispered, sounding distant even to her own ears. "How can something as foolish as a dislike for 'spas' stem from... This..." Doctor Scratch clicked the pen, then set both it and the notebook aside. Leaning forward in her seat, taking on a look of compassion with a depth that Orzel had never seen before, the woman looked thoughtful.

"Take a deep breath for me, Orzel, hold it for a few moments and exhale..." The woman began with firm conviction, the girl nodded quietly and did as she was instructed. Inhaling deeply through her mouth, she exhaled slowly through her nose. "You like to look at all things separately. The world is one big machine, and all its individual parts can be cataloged and separated from one another..." The woman's features softened further. "The truth is that everything about ourselves is interconnected... Like an enchantment." The Doctor described. "As you know, if there's a flaw to an earlier rune, each subsequent rune in the enchantment will not function as properly as it should, and each subsequent flaw compounds the issue further." She gestured to her hair.

"To a point where something as simple as a spa or hair color can be linked to numerous things... Misplaced shame, for example, and especially the far more primal fear of loss..." Doctor Scratch continued while Orzel leaned back on the couch. "As you also know, once a rune is fully set it's virtually impossible to repair directly. So, we must make corrections further down the line." The woman gestured around the room, and Orzel understood the implication that 'therapy' was the 'correction' in this analogy. She didn't comment on the matter, instead watching as Doctor Scratch folded her hands back in her lap. "In your case, the fear you hold has some vanishing validity, but you can't allow it to interfere in the rest of your life. I'm going to challenge you this week, to try and spend more time with your Cousin. It won't be easy, at first, but eventually you'll see that your fear only has so much power as you are willing to give it." Orzel quietly considered the Doctor's words, then nodded quietly.

"I will... Try." The girl confirmed, Doctor Scratch smiled faintly and picked up her notebook again. Glancing at the clock on the wall, Orzel could see they still had around twenty or so minutes left of their session. Honestly wanting to move past the abrupt realization of fear, the Princess took another deep breath and cleared her head as best she could. "Speaking of giving thoughts too much power..." The girl trailed off, prompting the Doctor to raise an eyebrow. "I am coming to despise the Noble Party, on a primal level I had not foreseen as possible..." She trailed off, uncertain of how to best phrase her next statement. "I... Enjoy hearing of their discomfort. I take satisfaction in their cries of woe." The girl shook her head. "They took the same enjoyment in my own suffering... Should I not be above that sort of thing? What does that say about me?"

"It says that you're a person, with imperfections and flaws, just like your Mother, or your Aunt, or even myself." Doctor Scratch stated simply, adding more to her notes. "For all your intellect, you have a tendency to over or under-think." The woman gestured to the wooden floor between the two of them, drawing Orzel's eyes to the space curiously. "Imagine one of your detractors was laying there with a broken leg, or mourning a great personal loss. Would you kick them while they were down? Berate them? Tell them they deserved the pain they endured?"

"Of course not!" Orzel responded, horrified, her voice rising an octave. Doctor Scratch held up a calming hand, obviously reading the confusion on the girl's face. Orzel took a deep breath, calming herself as her mind jumped from subject to subject, the proverbial gears grinding in the process. "I would never do such a thing." She stated frustratedly, crossing her arms.

The Princess heard a faint chime of magic, and to her surprise felt a soft furry form poke its head up out of her jacket's breast pocket. Midnight glanced about for a few moments, then the mouse familiar scampered down to Orzel's hand where she proceeded to curl up in the fingers. Orzel, meanwhile, commenced to gently pet the familiar... It's soft warm fur helping to soothe her nerves. Doctor Scratch seemed surprised at first, but put the creature's sudden appearance aside for the moment.

"That's precisely my point." Scratch explained, eying the mouse with quiet consideration. Orzel had briefly touched on the arrival of her familiar during their abbreviated 'chit-chat' period, but she'd neglected to mention the mouse's frustrating habit of appearing seemingly whenever it so chose. "I don't think you truly hate the Nobles, not in a 'primal' sense at least, as you put it. You may be pleased by their failure, but don't mistake that pleasure for genuine malice." Orzel nodded quietly, finding it was becoming a bit easier with the continuing presence of Midnight. "You're still sixteen, your brain hasn't fully developed yet. Add to that your Draconic physiology, and the myriad of other issues we've discussed, it's no wonder you have such aggressive feelings. It's certainly something to keep an eye on, but as with fear, don't let it consume you..."

"Alright..." Sighed Orzel, looking down at Midnight. The mouse stared back with those beady golden eyes of hers, then yawned quietly and curled up in her palm. Doctor Scratch seemed interested again, but Orzel wasn't entirely sure what to say. Pausing for a moment, she gave an apologetic smile. "Sorry if my little friend here came as a surprise..." She offered, watching the mouse as it seemed intent on sleeping in her hand. "I cannot really control when or where she appears, I hope you are not upset by her presence."

"It's quite alright, I know familiars can be temperamental beings." Assured the woman, curiously watching as Orzel once again began to pet the small creature. The pen once again met the paper, scribbling notes of a sort Orzel doubted she'd ever see. Perhaps that was for the best... She would probably be better off with a change in topic. "Now, why don't you tell me more about this Mister Spike." The Doctor continued, likely coming to the same conclusion. "Let's assume for the sake of argument that you do feel some modicum of attraction towards him, what makes you think that you're 'faking it'?" Orzel paused for a moment, looking wistfully out the window again, staring at the Castle in the distance.

"Well... He is a boy." She stated with a shrug, looking back at the Doctor. "I just thought that since... You know, I am... How I am..." Orzel still couldn't bring herself to say it more succinctly than that. Scratch nodded in apparent understanding. "It just feels counter productive..."

"Just because you're bisexual doesn't mean you can't have a preference, and who is to say this has anything to do with preference to begin with." The Doctor stated the word bluntly, without any sort of preamble or glossing over, it was just... There. Orzel knew that with repetition she'd eventually get around to saying it herself, in time, perhaps... When she was alone, and no one else was around. The word and all associated with it still carried a dirty connotation of taboo, and she doubted it'd ever get to a point where she'd fully feel comfortable even acknowledging its existence. "What about this boy sticks out to you?" Orzel's eyes darted about the room, as if seeking any means of escape, but there was none.

"Well, for starters, he works in a library..." She admitted, fidgeting slightly in her seat. "He is brave, heroic, and I will admit I think he is... Cute. Is that the correct word?" Scratch shrugged simply. "As I said, he reminds me of a boy my age that I knew named Bazyli, who sailed with my Father..."

"What about Bazyli, tell me about him. How does he differ from Mister Spike?" Doctor Scratch stated simply. Orzel quietly removed her spectacles, the world shifting into a familiar blur as she held them up.

"I believe he is the one I would have been betrothed to, when I came of age... He did not mind the idea of marrying what the Empire termed a 'defective', like me, someone with weak eyes or other such malady that disqualified them from conscription." Orzel explained somewhat sheepishly, Scratch hummed thoughtfully at that. "He too was brave... When I think of my Father on the night Cesarski burned, I imagine Bazyli was right there with him, helping people aboard Piorun for her final voyage." The Princess's voice cracked as she quickly restored the spectacles to their place upon her nose.

"The difference is that Bazyli was... Ambitious. He could have sought betrothal with anyone, but..." Orzel continued hesitantly. "While Father considered him an honorable man, his true intentions were obvious, even to someone as blind as I am." The girl leaned back in her seat as Doctor Scratch once more began to take notes. "Father was well connected with the Admiralty, there were many that thought he might one day hold the title of Lord High Admiral of the Imperial Armada. He made more money as claiming prize ships as a Captain..."

"I am getting off track..." The girl trailed off, shaking her head. "While I am certain Bazyli and I would have grown close, it was also clear that his interest lay more with my Father's ability to advance his career as an officer than with myself..." Orzel chuckled dryly. "At the time, I would have been fine with such an arrangement, any girl in my position would be. A handsome midshipman wants me as his future wife? A blind defective? In the Empire you do not decline such a generous offer..." She paused, then added darkly. "Not that I would have had the choice to decline, the Empire had population quota to fill, after all."

"I didn't realize things were that... Severe." Doctor Scratch admitted, apparently unable to hide a look of evident horror. Most Equestrians tended to respond that way when confronted with that information, Orzel expected as much, given the vast distance between Equestrian and Szafirian values.

"Actually, it was not such a bad prospect, relatively speaking..." Orzel stated with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I quite like the idea of having a family, you know? When I am older, of course. Not before marriage." Scratch nodded again, apparently collecting herself and resuming her note taking. "Not that I would want to get married to Mister Spike. I have only just met him, after all..." The Princess sighed tiredly, looking down at her hands. "I am certain my romantic feelings are misplaced, Mister Spike seems far more smitten with Lady Rarity, but his friendship would still be a comfort. I do not know the first thing about relationships with people my own age, platonic or otherwise... Not by Equestrian standards at any rate."

"Well, everyone has to start somewhere." Doctor Scratch stated more optimistically than Orzel would've expected. "How about, in addition to trying new things with regards to your Cousin, we add writing this boy a letter to the list of things I want you to try in the coming week? Not a love letter or anything like that, just a friendly message. Sound okay?" Orzel nodded in acceptance, pursing her lips and casting another brief glance out the window. "Now, I want to go back to what you said about yourself, that you were deemed 'defective'... Do you feel that word is accurate? Do you see yourself as defective?" The room was silent, and after a few moments Orzel sighed.

"Yes... And no..." The girl admitted, once more removing her spectacles, idly fiddling with them whilst squinting at the colorful blur that was Doctor Scratch. If she leaned closer, and really focused, she could make out vague details, but... Nowhere near what she saw with her spectacles. "Defective. Noun. Something that is imperfect in form, structure, or function. Without these I am blind, that is a defect, therefore by definition I am defective." She briefly felt a surge of... Something... Deep down. Brief flashes of blurred images, distant impressions, flickered through her mind... They vanished just as quickly as they came.

"Please clarify... Are you asking whether or not I think that it affects my value as a person...?" Orzel put her spectacles back on, and Doctor Scratch nodded curiously. "That is difficult to answer..." The girl leaned back in the seat, resting her hands in her lap and taking a deep breath. "I know that blindness has no bearing on my personal value, but knowing something is true is not the same as believing something is true." Doctor Scratch scribbled more in her notes. "For example, I now know that the Vindictan scrolls are primarily false... Yet, despite this, I still believe in a higher power... I do not know what that power is, or if I ever will, but I believe in it..." The girl shook her head, sighing with emotional exhaustion.

"I see..." Doctor Scratch nodded sagely, setting her pen down. "This is a topic I want to hold off on until our next session to fully delve into... Still, I want to say that I'm really proud of you. I know that not too long ago you would've had a vastly different answer, and I'm pleased to see how much progress you're making." The woman smiled genuinely. "I think, in addition to what we've already laid out, I want you to explore this 'spiritual' side of yourself a bit more... See where it takes you." Orzel nodded in agreement, offering a weak smile of her own. "I think now's a good time to start wrapping up."

Orzel closed her eyes, sighing with relief... She was feeling much better now, even if she wasn't fully one-hundred percent. She still had her duties to attend to, but they were getting easier with every passing day. Barring any sudden national catastrophe, the Princess was fairly certain that her day would be a pleasant one.

Buried deep beneath the decrepit abandoned eighteenth aircraft hangar at the southern edge of Neighless Army Air Corps Base, there was rumored to reside a facility believed by many to exist only in the minds of conspiracy theorists. Dozens of miles of tunnels and chambers, hidden well away from public view, illuminated by pale fluorescent lights. Those that believed in the ludicrous theory spoke of secret laboratories and rooms stuffed from floor to ceiling with items both strange and unnatural, or perhaps a vast central command center from which the various minds of Equestria's military plotted global domination. These tunnels were likewise rumored to be occupied by men and women from all branches of the Equestrian military, hiding the true nature of the world from a public deemed unworthy of knowing. What strange and twisted experiments took place there were anyone's guess, but the conspiracy theories had gradually gained an odd following as an 'urban myth'. Nothing more, nothing less.

The not-so-mythical 'Dark Star Installation' had been constructed, officially at least, under the guise of a failed mining operation. Controlled by the auspices of the Nocturne Agency, Dark Star was built to safeguard Equestria and the world at large from artifacts too dangerous to be left unguarded, long before the establishment of Neighless Army Air Corps Base itself. Additionally, it served as the Training Center for the Lunar Marine Corp's 'Cerberus Division', the tactical response arm of the Nocturne Agency. To Director Aquila, however, Darkstar was more than just the final resting place of ancient artifacts or a training facility for the Cerberus Teams. It was his home-away-from-home, ever since its completion nearly one hundred years ago... Of course, officially he hadn't been alive one hundred years ago, nor had many of his former identities, save the one that 'died' in a mysterious croquet accident.

Celestia had never taken much interest in the Nocturne Agency, thankfully, otherwise she might've noticed something was amiss... Like the fact that its Director had remained the same person since its founding before the Nightmare War, albeit under different assumed aliases and considerably altered appearances. Yet in all that time he'd been alive, his purpose for continuing his ancient task had changed considerably. First it was to safeguard the newly formed Equestria from the rogue wizards of the world, then it was to help Nightmare Moon win the war, then to salvage what was left of the organization when ultimately Nightmare Moon lost... Above all that, however, his eldest and most sacredly held duty had been to uphold that oath made so long ago...

Now, as Aquila stood some five hundred feet underground in a small control room overlooking Chamber 12-C, surrounded by the Princesses and the Elements of Harmony, that duty was growing ever closer to being fulfilled. Only weeks before he had watched the sparks drift from an imposing circle of scaffolding erected in the center of the chamber, falling to the metal floor plating in cascading showers of glittering light. The welders had worn heavy leather coats, their eyes protected by darkly tinted respirators, each working in a hurried fashion. He didn't envy the men that had performed the already difficult task, made all the more challenging because they'd been working under Level 9 Containment Protocol. HAZMAT suits weren't the most comfortable things to wear in their own right, but he could only imagine the discomfort of having to lug around welding equipment in the bulky things...

The scaffolding they'd so diligently worked on, now completed, formed a dome approximately fifty feet high, with a diameter of around one hundred feet at its base. Its exterior was covered in slabs of a Wolfram-Arcanium alloy, its interior lined with obsidian panels, which would theoretically serve to reflect the magic back in on itself. Both the exterior and interior were carefully inscribed with runes, and could stand against even the most powerful of magic, for a time. Twilight Sparkle was the one responsible for quietly observing the work, every day she was eager, despite the weight of her own HAZMAT suit. She was remarkably competent for someone of her age, almost suspiciously so, but it was just Aquila's nature to be suspicious of the competent ones. Considering it was Twilight Sparkle that ultimately brought Princess Luna back, the real Princess Luna, he supposed that trusting her was the right choice.

During its construction, the dome known as 'Project Tartarus' called for someone not only with extensive knowledge in the field of magic, but also in possession of an intensely scientific mind. Someone that could easily blend the magical with the technological, an 'arcane engineer' of sorts. Twilight had both of these attributes in spades, but even with her help Aquila had feared it wouldn't be enough. The chamber containing the dome became more toxic with each passing day, so the panel enchantments were somewhat rushed near the end. If they hadn't properly completed the Containment Vessel, or somehow Discord escaped by other means, all Aquila's efforts throughout the centuries might have been in vain... No... He couldn't fail, not now, not when he was so close.

The Director's eyes turned to Princess Luna as she stood across the room, resplendent in darkly tinted armor, speaking in hushed tones to her sister. Celestia was equally resplendent in a more vibrant version of the armor, though she appeared far more serious than he'd ever seen her typically relaxed features. Luna had helped the Director in so many different ways, most recently in concealing his identity more thoroughly than ever before... To keep such a secret as he had from her, after she'd bestowed upon him so much trust, ate at him ferociously with every moment that drew closer to the zero-hour.

His eyes turned to young Twilight Sparkle, who despite extreme risk of Radiation Poisoning, had nonetheless toiled in that toxic hell of a chamber with all the zeal of the most fanatic Lunar Marine... Likely driven more by curiosity than any sense of patriotic duty, Aquila suspected. Her motivations really didn't matter, as she hadn't let him down, and was honestly far smarter than most of the people currently employed at Darkstar. Getting her working with so many people under her direction was admittedly difficult, but amounted to a virtual cakewalk compared to the other tasks Celestia had assigned her faithful student. The difficulty came more from the environment itself, as evidenced by the bulky yellow HAZMAT suits and respirators ubiquitous to everyone that had once worked in the chamber now devoid of life. Indeed, the only thing preserving their safety at the moment was the intensely enchanted glass of the observation window, and five feet of reinforced lead-lined concrete.

Twilight stood among her friends now, the other Element Bearers, speaking in equally hushed voices. Clipped to her sweater, and everyone else in the room, was a white ID badge displaying her VIP credentials and an Arcane Radiation symbol. The badge did more than just permit the woman access to one of the most secure military installations in all of Equestria, it also served as a dosimeter. The statue, currently hidden beneath the apex of the tungsten-alloy dome, was putting off an incredible amount of arcane radiation. Even unseen, the Director could imagine Discord's stoney form standing petrified in a pose of triumph, surrounded by the pitch blackness of the containment unit. Of course, cracks had gradually taken form with each day since the statue's arrival, it was only a matter of time now. Getting him to Neighless, and by extension Darkstar, had been an odyssey of careful logistical planning and close calls. One false move and they could've had a containment breach...

If he didn't think she'd decline, the Director might've tried recruiting Twilight to work for the Nocturne Agency. It'd likely be his last act before leaving the agency, undoubtedly in disgrace. Ponyville was an actively growing 'Incident Convergence Point', and the idea of outsourcing the monitoring the area to a group of comparative amateurs like the newly minted SMILE Agency unsettled him. Then again, Twilight had a group of highly inquisitive friends... They'd figure out sooner or later she was involved in something, regardless of whether that something was ultimately for the greater good. Memory redaction became more difficult if performed multiple times, so it was better to just zap them all at once at the day's conclusion and let them go on their lives in blissful ignorance, assuming all proved successful.

Princess Luna had come up with some believable surrogate memories to implant, though they were a tad far fetched by Aquila's estimation. Something to do with a hedge maze and 'learning about the power of friendship', undoubtedly to appease Celestia's concerns... They'd need to make a stealth implantation on Twilight's ward Spike if they were to remove any chance of the memories resurfacing, a fact that Celestia was also not sanguine over. There was still a chance, a very good chance, she'd order him to forgo the Redaction altogether. He admired her dedication to the principle of transparency, even if he knew there were some things the public was better off not knowing...

Taking a drag on his cigarette, his features softening, Aquila stepped back from the observation window. His fingers traced over the smooth metallic face of one of the control panels, all while taking in its remarkably advanced interface. The gauges and dials, the small bulbs of all varying colors, the oscilloscopes and meters... So many different displays, well beyond anything he'd ever imagined possible in his youth. Altogether, the displays had illuminated the room like Hearths Warming trees, he only wished they filled him with the joy typically associated with that holiday. Adjusting his tie and tucking his hands into his suit's pockets, Aquila stared intently at the dome. As he did, he could've sworn he felt the concealed statue staring back at him... The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, his eyes latching onto a small oscilloscope, the line at its center jumping up and down.

Though it went undetected by the technicians monitoring the various outputs, Aquila had the distinct feeling they wouldn't be waiting for much longer. Biting his lower lip, the director finished his cigarette, discarding it into a waiting ashtray on the console before walking towards Luna and Celestia. He didn't waste any time as he lit another cigarette, keeping the ongoing rush of nicotine coursing through his mind. The Princesses were in the midst of conversation, though the subject remained unknown to the Director until he was within earshot. The look of concern on Luna's face was more prevalent than he'd first expected, likely the two were discussing something of great importance.

"...think it's just a phase, Luna." Celestia was explaining casually, as if the weight of her impressive armor was of no concern. "It's not like she's denouncing Cadence, from what I've heard. As far as youthful rebellion goes, refusing to leave her room is fairly tame. As far as we've seen from Orzel, it's virtually the norm." Aquila realized the topic then, Luna's daughter Orzel.

Truth be told, Aquila had been informed by Agents Grim and Fable of the teenager's sudden desire to keep Princess Cadence at a distance. The cause of it remained unknown, but the Director had his suspicions. Princess Orzel, according to the observations he'd been given by Agents Grim and Fable, had a considerably introverted personality, coupled with an almost fanatical sense of duty and an impulsive 'It's easier to apologize than ask permission' attitude. That was a welcome surprise, as Aquila tended to share the same mindset, though it could lead to... Problems. Even so, he foresaw Orzel's patriotic stance influencing Equestria in a positive way, at least in the big picture... As both he and Celestia tended to agree, that was the only picture that really mattered. Noticing his approach, Celestia rapidly shifted away from the topic, regarding the Director with scrutiny.

"Director, I've been meaning to speak with you..." She glanced quickly over her shoulder at the Element Bearers. "I know you and Luna feel the Memory Redaction is necessary, but I am still unconvinced..."

"I do not urge this decision lightly, your highness." Aquila assured, clasping his hands behind his back while straightening his posture. "As you may have noticed, our guests do not seem enthused with the nature of this facility, or the abrupt nature with which they were spirited here." Celestia cast a glance at Twilight and her friends, and Aquila took note of their somewhat nervous features. They had seen a great deal of the facility in their journey to this level, and though much of the details remained secret, it wasn't hard for them to imagine what else Darkstar might be used for.

"Think of the panic that would unfold should the full details of what transpires here today become public knowledge..." Aquilla's tone was cold, exacting, ruthless. "How long do you think it would be before wild speculation on the nature of alien spaceships and mythical beasts tank the economy? It was a close enough call when Princess Orzel revealed her origins." The Director inwardly flinched when Luna struck him with a glare, obviously she didn't like that example. "We will be unable to maintain order if it is discovered just how frequently the world is in jeopardy. Some things, for the greater good, are better off remaining unknown... At least for a time." He added darkly.

"What if it came to light that we were 'redacting' peoples memories?" Celestia countered bluntly, narrowing her eyes on the man. "What would the papers say then? Can't you see the headlines? 'Government brainwashes its own citizens!', or 'Ten ways to tell whether you've had your mind altered!'." The woman cast a look at Luna. "This is the sort of thing that the Szafirian Empire would do if they had the chance... Equestria is be better than that, isn't it? That's what we've taught Orzel."

Luna opened her mouth to retort, but after a few moments sighed and looked at the floor. Aquila was wondering when Celestia was going to play that card, but he supposed he wasn't surprised. The woman had saved the heavy artillery for last. Of course, what Aquila proposed wasn't anywhere near what he'd heard was the state of affairs in Princess Orzel's former homeland... For someone as old as Celestia was, she could be frustratingly naive. Obviously, in a perfect world, memory redaction wouldn't be necessary... But this wasn't a perfect world, Celestia knew that better than anyone. Even so, as he recalled all the events of the past thousand years, he began to question his own convictions... Had redacting the truth about Observos really helped Luna? She'd never stopped grieving, never gotten over his death, never moved on... Would things have been different, if she'd known the truth all along?

Over the centuries Aquila had perfected the craft of obfuscating or concealing his true thoughts from even the most skilled of observers, but that did little to shield himself from the gnawing of his own conscience. Now, more than ever, he felt the overwhelming guilt laying upon his shoulders. The Director briefly glanced at the floor, pondering just how the Princesses would react when they realized that they too had been subjected to the effects of Memory Redaction. Luna looked at him with an expression of trust, unaware of the great burden she and her lost love had placed on his sanity. It crawled on his back, eating away at his resolve, until finally he could stand it no longer. He'd sworn to stand at Luna's side in the stead of Observos, to keep her safe, and for countless centuries that had meant a need to remain silent. Now, with the finale of his thousand year long vigil close at hand, his resolve had run dry...

"There is something I must tell you." Aquila said solemnly, gesturing for the two Princesses to follow him towards the observation window. Part of him cried out to stop, but keeping such knowledge from her now would do more harm than good. "I must admit, there are facets of what's to come that will prove difficult to accept. For both of you." Both Princesses looked at him with disgruntled eyes, if not with actual surprise... Of course not, his omissions had become predictable... He could only imagine what the Princesses would look like when he completed his explanation.

"I suspect by now you realize I've been keeping something from you." The Director continued, they nodded, and Aquila turned to look out the window at the dome. There was nothing to do but just come out and say it. "Observos the Watchful wasn't killed by Discord, nor was his body incinerated in the battle between Discord and Legate Orcus..." In the reflection he saw Luna's face screw up into indignation, rightfully so, Aquila conceded. "At his request, and the request of Luna, the memories of those that witnessed the fight were redacted and altered to depict a different turn of events."

"My request...?" Luna seethed, grabbing Aquila by the shoulder and whirling him around. He hadn't seen so much anger in her face since the outset of the Nightmare War, and despite his best efforts, the man shivered in fear. "Why would I request such a thing? Why would he?" She grabbed him by both shoulders, speaking through clenched teeth while Celestia simply stared in dumbstruck realization. Aquila could see the flicker of recognition in the woman's eyes... Memory Redaction wasn't as refined in that long ago time, and if properly reminded, the process could be known to quickly fail. "Why would I make such a request, why are you lying!" Luna's eyes blazed with baleful fury and betrayal, further twisting the knife that had sunk into the Director's heart.

"Luna..." Celestia spoke gently, placing a hand on her sister's shoulder. Luna glanced at Celestia, the pain all the more evident on her delicate features. "I remember..." The woman looked at Aquila with a mixture of cold resentment and... Understanding. "The pain was so fresh, you fell into a deep depression, worse than when Mother and Father passed... I am as furious as you are, don't misunderstand that, but you did ask Orcus to purge the memory..." Aquila hadn't answered to the name 'Orcus' in such a long time, it almost didn't register. Orcus, Legate of the Thestral Imperium, master strategist and scholar of the occult, keeper of secrets and upholder of oaths. That was his true name, the name that had born distinction and honor... Up until that moment, at least. There was no further reason to deny his name, and so he wouldn't from that point onwards.

"Discord didn't kill Observos..." Celestia continued with growing shock, the full clarity of memory suddenly evident in her rising inflection. "Observos became Discord." Luna recoiled from the two as if she'd been struck, drawing the attention of many people within the room, the realization undoubtedly slamming into her with all its terrible force. Celestia quickly hugged the shaken Princess, her eyes falling back upon Aquila, now answering to Orcus. It seemed questions as to just how he happened to remain alive weren't at the forefront, and he was grateful for that... The rituals were not pleasant to describe. "That's the real reason you wanted to reform him, isn't it...?"

"Yes..." Orcus confirmed, looking shamefully at the floor. "The risk posed by the doorway in the Arcane Barrier remains, but my primary aim was and always has been to restore him to his former self." He briefly looked at Luna, who was gradually recovering from the shock, though tears nonetheless streaked down her cheeks. "I did not withhold this information for my own interests, Princess..." Orcus turned again, looking wistfully at the dome beyond the glass. "He asked, you ordered, and I obeyed. I break my oath of silence only because we are closer now than we have ever been, and to not do so would violate another oath that I hold in much higher regard..." He bowed his head. "To protect you... Observos was my brother, by honor if not by blood. I could not refuse."

"I recall now... Giving you that order..." Luna's voice had become like a forged blade after the quench, hardened, brittle, prone to fracture, and smoldering with sizzling intensity. Her face went through a myriad of emotions, from anger, to regret, to dejection and so on. Finally, as a master smith would temper his hardened blade, so too did Luna's face regain much of its strength. She lifted her hand, for a few moments Orcus feared she would strike him, but instead the woman settled it upon his shoulder. "I was wrong to place such a burden upon your shoulders, old friend." The woman straightened, biting her lower lip. "I have no one to be furious with but myself..." She looked at her sister. "Do not hold his actions against him, the blame lays upon me..."

"Debatable, but the blame matters little right now. There's still work to be done." Celestia stated with uncharacteristic annunciation, Orcus understood that to mean she too was wrestling with the implications of what was to come. If she wanted to continue speaking, however, she wasn't given an option. A sudden cry of alarm came from one of the technicians, and as Orcus raised his gaze he could see rays of light penetrating through some improperly welded seams on the dome. The Director's eyes turned to one of the monitors, without a word he approached another smaller console. There he lifted a plastic lid that covered a red button, his eyes glued to the Radiation Meter.

Meanwhile, he heard Celestia and Luna quickly addressing the Element Bearers... No time to listen in, he had bigger concerns to worry about. Watching the gauge for a few more moments, he silently prayed that the radiation would even out... It didn't. With growing horror he watched it creep past 6,000 Arc-Rads, at which point a light began glowing, indicating the number had gone beyond the ability to accurately measure. Not wasting another second, he firmly pressed his palm down upon the button. It was now or never.

"Attention all personnel." A synthesized recording of Princess Luna's voice announced from a speaker mounted to the wall, it sounded slightly distorted and crackled with each syllable. The announcement would likewise be echoed throughout the entire facility, broadcast to every agent, researcher, and Cerberus Trooper within Darkstar... They were already on alert on account of the Priority Threat, but this would remove any doubt. "Object CH-Four-Zero-Five containment breach in progress. A Level 9 Facility Wide Lockdown is now in effect. Proceed immediately to the nearest Emergency Shelter and await further instructions. This is not a drill." The high pitched thrumming screech of an alarm followed, all while the Element Bearers gathered themselves. Luna and Celestia meanwhile readied their own spells, watching tensely through the window.

The dome within the chamber vibrated and rattled, throwing off flakes of paint, metal particles, and dust like a bathing chinchilla. Orcus stood transfixed as the rest of the Technicians fled the room, leaving the Director to lean against the control panel with open curiosity. If only he had had more time... More resources... The dome glowed a vibrant teal color, fluorescing brighter than anything Orcus had ever seen before, ultimately forcing the Director to avert his eyes and hold a hand in front of his face. So bright was the illumination from within the chamber that he could see the bones of his hand, silhouetted through the flesh.

Then he felt the glass before him grow hot, undoubtedly the protective enchantments were struggling to cope with a burst of powerful radiation. Such bursts weren't uncommon among imprisoned persons or objects breaking out of their imprisonment, typically it preceded a considerable explosion, even when no explosives were present. The phenomenon was still little understood, but given the amount of arcane radiation given off by Discord...? A containment failure of such magnitude could easily reach temperatures hot enough to vaporize the entire chamber, as well as the floors above and below it.

Even if someone managed to survive the initial blast, the entire Darkstar facility would collapse in on itself and finish them off, leaving only a radioactive crater of smoldering green glass... Realistically, the only ones likely to survive would be the Princesses and the Element Bearers, the latter group on account of Princessly intervention.

"Warning, Catastrophic Containment Failure is imminent. Estimated time to detonation is... Thirty seconds." The synthetic voice announced a few moments later, at least the upper levels would know to hurry up and get out. Meanwhile, Orcus started pressing any buttons he thought might help. All the while the glow bathed the man in a brilliant glow as he wordlessly turned several knobs with frantic determination. The controls would flood the chamber with Arcogen, a chemically inert magic suppressing gas. If enough was pumped into the chamber it might render the coming detonation into a a more controlled fire, rather than an explosion... Other than that there was little he could do. Finding the switch, Orcus pushed it, though he doubted it would be enough. Spiderwebs of cracks abruptly appeared on the window, obscuring the dome even further. "Detonation in T-Minus... Five... Four..." With silent solemnity, Orcus took one final drag on his cigarette and looked at his watch...

"I would've liked to at least shake his hand..." Aquila mumbled in Thestralese, looking out the window just the glass warped and bulged. At least, if this was the end, he had cleared his conscience... The Elements would hopefully contain Discord and hopefully reform him into the man that once was Observos. Orcus' could go to his grave knowing he had fulfilled his oath, his only regret being that he wouldn't be present to welcome his brother back into the fold... Orcus had underestimated the power with which the dome's prisoner would escape, the destruction of the facility would be his final mistake. At least, he realized, he wouldn't be forced to leave in disgrace...

"Three... Two... One..." The countdown concluded, and even closing his eyes proved too little to shield himself from the light, the room was gradually beginning to warm. A moment later, just as the glass seemed ready to shatter, there came a sudden rushing sound of wind... No... Not wind. Arcogen... The tanks must've dumped everything at once. The blinding light abruptly ceased entirely, and with tentative hopefulness Orcus opened his eyes. Though the window was bulged and cracked, it was nonetheless clear enough to allow him a view into the chamber. "CH-Four-Zero-Five Containment stabilized, detonation averted." Silence reigned for a good thirty seconds afterwards, even the alarm having gone quiet.

"We're... Alive?" Orcus asked numbly, looking behind him as several technicians tentatively poked their heads in. Princess Luna and Celestia stood with their palms aglow, surrounding themselves and the element bearers in a miasma bubble of golden and navy blue energy. "We're alive!" The man couldn't contain a smile from spreading over his features as after a few tense moments both Princesses lowered their spells. Orcus quickly turned to the control console... The Arcane Radiation was fast dissipating, already nearing safe levels. The man pressed another button, then cleared his throat. "Teams Alpha and Baker, report to the Containment Vessel..." His eyes returned to the Princess. "We're ready to begin on your orders." Celestia and Luna looked at one another, then both nodded resolutely...

He could feel the prison beginning to weaken... There were so many people around him, if he could just break himself out he could finally be free of his torment. They were talking, speaking in terms that he couldn't understand, even as his memory grew clearer and clearer. The Other was gone, or so he hoped, it had seemed an eternity since last he was tormented by his bothersome companion. That could change at a moment's notice, so his only hope was to break free of whatever vessel confined him and seek help. Surely, the people around him would understand his plight, help him find his way back to wherever he'd come from... Help him remember who he was. They were men of science and wizardry, his colleagues and peers... Weren't they?

Concentrating his being into a single thought, he hurled his consciousness against the blackness of the void itself. With cataclysmic force they collided, but it seemed to have hardly any effect. He wasn't about to give up, the more he concentrated the more he could fight the spell... Onwards and onwards, again and again, he threw his being into the darkness with frantic abandon. Then, finally, he felt the spell weaken. He didn't know how long he continued the grueling effort. Minutes? Days? Weeks? Time lost all meaning to him long ago. Eventually, with all his concerted effort, something chipped away... Like a levee giving way to the high waters of a storm, the first breach made the second easier, and the third easier still.

He was eroding his prison more and more with every attempt, soon he would be free, free from the clutches of the Other, free to find the woman that had consumed his every waking memory since the Other had gone silent. Then, much to his annoyance, he felt the presence of the Other trying to surround him. His age old foe had returned, though he could sense the Other was significantly weakened. He ignored the offending presence, focusing more on the prospect of finally regaining his memories, regaining his life... That woman, whoever she was, must've been worried sick over him. The Other was fighting him, albeit feebly, the last desperate acts of a dying entity that could see its end was close at hand.

"It's over! You've lost!" He declared to the Other, triumphant and assured. The Other retaliated with surprising strength, barging into his consciousness, as if electrocuting him from the inside. Try as the entity might, it wasn't enough, and so the Other was forced to relent... By now the voices outside the prison were silent, and then he heard it... The woman's voice, loud and booming like thunder. It was muffled and distant, but his beloved had come to save him! There could be no other explanation, oh how wonderful it would be to have physical form again... To touch, to smell, to hold... To be held... "I will be free... From this place... From you..."

"You created me! I am real! I am part of you!" The Other shrieked defiantly, but beneath that defiance there was terror, a sound that was exceptionally pleasing to hear. "I can help you! I can make you powerful! That is what you created me for, isn't it?!" Once more He struggled against the blackness. They're trying to pull us apart, we need to stick together!" He ignored the Other, hurling himself once again into the abyss, just a few more times... "It wasn't supposed to happen like this! I was supposed to win! Me! That damnable she-creature drained me, and if you leave me here in this accursed prison I know she'll return to finish me off! I'm too weak to defend myself! I... I can't hold on any longer!"

"Don't worry, soon enough you won't have to hold on..." He responded, continuing his assault, until he could practically taste the freedom. "The place is all yours..." The Other screamed in one final bout of fright, only to be silenced in one brilliant moment, when everything went from pitch blackness to blindingly bright. With a tremendous burst of energy, he found himself falling, physically falling... To his utter surprise the first thing he saw was... Nothing. Nothing but blackness, though not nearly as absolute as the cold unfeeling void. Several small streams of light filtered in, but the room around him was cavernous, its walls scorched black by... Something. Or were they just naturally that color? All of those thoughts were cut short when he slammed into the floor with a heavy thud. A strange sensation began to emanate from near his vision... Pain... It was pain! He was corporeal again!

The jubilation didn't last long, as a sudden splitting headache lanced through every other sensation. The clarity of his memories was rapidly fading, swirling with a mixture of returning sensations and the fog of ages. Pushing himself up took a great amount of work, but he couldn't just lay there... The man, a quick glance downward had confirmed he was in fact male, remained on his knees and elbows to take stock of just what was happening. The floor was surprisingly warm, though not painfully so, and the air had an odd sort of charge to it, and it tasted... Strange. Like metal.

A sudden light burst forth from somewhere off on the other side of the chamber, it seemed unnaturally bright, harshly assaulting his eyes, made all the more disorienting by what sounded like massive shrieking hinges that bored into his brain. Now he could at least see himself... He had arms and legs, hands and feet, a head, ears, eyes... Hair. No clothing, that would be a problem, but everything else seemed exactly where it was supposed to be. Panting heavily, the man pushed himself up onto his feet and staggered about, his head awash with pain and confusion. He had to find her... Had to make sure she was safe... The Other wanted to hurt her, no... Not the Other, someone else...

"Luna..." He said, his voice dry and rough. Somehow keeping his balance, he caught sight of the source of light in the room around him. The chamber, now illuminated, evidently had previously been used to contain a blast that had to have been one of immense magnitude, as the aperture consisted of two of the largest metal doors he'd ever seen. There were sounds coming from outside, clattering footfalls... Maybe just falling debris? Where even was he? Where was Luna? "Have to.... Have to find her..." He didn't know how he remembered her name, as the man certainly couldn't remember his own... There were voices outside now, but voices also in his head, the latter of which were screaming at him...

"You cannot become a Prince until you create new magic... New magic... New magic..." The words echoed over and over, even if he couldn't recall the speaker's face or name, he felt indignant. "The other tribes fear your people will gain an unfair advantage... I'm sorry, but I cannot permit you to see her anymore... Anymore... Anymore..." Heartbreak racked his body, broken only by another piercing headache. Wobbling about on the legs of a newborn foal, he managed to take his first steps towards one of the rounded walls, bracing himself on it as he staggered onwards.

"New magic... What...? What is she saying!?" He grunted through gritted teeth, sniffling and suppressing a growing sense of grief, though he still couldn't place just what was causing it. "Luna...!? Where are you!? Argh... Luna!" He growled, now gaining a glimpse of the room beyond the opened doors. It was sterile and white, lined with hooks and strange cabinets made of metal. Onwards he slogged, stabilizing himself for as long as possible on the wall, which to his shock was somehow still remarkably hot, until finally he was no longer able to hold on to it. Surely the explosion couldn't have been recent, how could he survive such a happening if that was the case...

Without the wall to keep his balance up, he instead moved for the open doorway, only to stumble forward as he tripped on a heavy piece of stone, collapsed from the ceiling above. Pain lanced up from his toes as images flashed through his mind, images of a time long ago, so very long ago. He... He had been working on something, something important, something to shut up the people behind the voices. Blinking the images from his eyes, the man stopped, staring at a series of figures standing now beyond the doorway.

"Contact front!" Someone screamed out ahead of him as he was suddenly blinded by pain, why did they have to be so loud? Squinting as much as he could manage, Observos spotted a strangely dressed group of men entering the chamber. They wore bright yellow garments, with black helmets and odd insect-like masks that hissed and wheezed with each evident breath, their eyes hidden beneath darkly tinted lenses of glass. All of them were pointing strange wooden staves at him. "What the fuck...? Marines! Put 'em up!" The apparent leader of the Strangers ordered harshly... Put what up? What was a Mah-Reen? "Let me see your hands!" Unsure of just what the Stranger was yelling about, Observos raised his hand in front of his face to block the light, his other being used to safeguard his modesty. He could hear a strange sound at, or about, the stranger's waist. A shrill 'tick-tick-tickety' that seemed to come in frightful fits and starts.

"Gentlemen... Hold your fire." A rather raspy voice called calmly from beyond the cadre, apparently unmuffled by such a mask, as yet three more figures stepped into view, one attired in black, the others apparently wearing armor. He recognized the voice from his memories, though it seemed far darker and rougher than it should've been. The Other was screaming in the background now, how could he be back? Why wouldn't he just leave him alone..."You may... Come in, ladies." More people wearing strange yellow garments rushed into view, wearing oddly familiar looking bits of jewelery about them. The Other was terrified of them apparently, and so He decided to move closer, closer to the thing his mortal foe feared. "Whenever you're ready."

"Platinum has been shutting us out more and more... I believe she knows we suspect her of something..." The same voice whispered in his mind, though far harsher than before. This man was the source of the other voice he'd hard recently, when first his faculties had started to return to him, the 'Director'... There was an urge to find a weapon, something to stop whoever Platinum was. The voices just kept shouting at him, one on top of the other, all scrambling for dominance, with the Other leading the pack. "We both know what must be done... What must be done... What must be done..."

"I keep...! Hearing the bloody voices!" He screamed at the crowd, bringing both hands to his head and trying to cover his ears as he hesitantly came to a stop. There were murmurings, and one of the armored figures seemed to want to approach him, only to be held back by the man in black. He tried forming a cohesive statement, but his mind was still too scattered. "Shut up! Shut up! Shut! Up! I'll kill you if you don't shut up!" Clenching his eyes shut, tears of agony streaking down his cheeks, his mind was once again assaulted by images, far clearer and more painful than the last. A woman... Wearing a platinum crown and satin white dress... Talking to someone, someone she shouldn't have been... A man in black... A rogue wizard, it had to be! Platinum was a traitor, and He had to tell someone!

"You again...?" Platinum's voice echoed through his mind with evident disgust. "You never had a chance with her, and you never will..." A wave of memories flooded over him as he saw strange wisps of multicolored light beginning to form around the group of newcomers, it was then that the Other sent a scream of rage erupting from his throat. "Run along, you have 'New Magic' to create, right?" The voice started laughing, all of them, echoing over and over again. "New Magic..." The words repeated, swirling around in a growing cyclone of fragmenting sanity.

"I remember! My Moon is full! My moon! Is! Full!" The man cried out in a guttural voice, almost bestially... He had to arm himself, had to find Platinum, she had to be stopped! "Argh...! The pain! Oh my Gods...! Must... Must kill the traitor!" The room was filled suddenly with more of the strange glowing wisps, illuminating more and more of the rubble strewn chamber. The voices just kept on screaming, overwhelming his thoughts before He could stop them. He could steady himself no longer, dropping to one knee and nearly collapsing entirely. "Need... The Moon's help..." He muttered with jaw clenched. "Then... Then I can... Cast the spell..."

"You are delving into a field of dangerous study." Luna's voice responded in his mind, eclipsing all the others in its distant echoing tone. "Dream Magic is not something to be undertaken lightly..." The man steadied himself on his hands and knees, using the edge of a large slab of wrecked stone to crawl towards the group. "You risk glimpsing the darkest parts of your own mind, and could let them manifest in ways beyond your control... It could drive you completely insane... Insane... Insane..."

"What does it want? It wants something!" He remembered something... Images of a blackness, somehow blacker than that which he'd been imprisoned in... Thousands of luminous green eyes burst open as one, glaring forcefully into his very soul... They were... Hungry... Coming right for him... "I have voyaged too far... The eyes rival the stars! The flowers, they are poison!" He was scared, he needed to protect himself from all the chaos... Chaos... Discord... Chaos and discord... Discord, the Other, drove the creature away with so many eyes, that... Thing that couldn't be named, that beast which inhabited the infinite black oceans of a space beyond space itself. When Discord was done fending off the beast, he turned on Him... He needed to find the Director, had to tell him what He saw...

"Observos, my friend... We cannot trust the Army to aid us, they are loyal to the Tribal Council..." The Director's voice returned, far less harsh this time. "Platinum, Puddinghead, Hurricane... They all must be eliminated. Leave that to me... To me... To me... The name 'Observos' took hold, was that his name? It had to be...

Observos struggled on his knees, and that was when the strange strands of light suddenly coalesced into a single beam of prismatic energy. It lanced across the chamber, washing his vision in a field of beautiful color... The voices were silenced in an instant, even that of Discord, and gradually Observos found his memories coalescing into their proper forms... Though some remained murky. The light faded from his vision, the strange 'tick-tickity' sound completely absent. Several of the strangely clad men were hefting him up from beneath his arms, carrying him towards the light and the cluster of people.

"We're not detecting any residual radiation, the Arcogen is doing its job..." One of the men announced as they brought him before the strange trio. "We should still get you all checked out, and he really needs a hospital bed. The sooner we get him on oxygen the better." The stranger looked at the man in the black suit, who stepped purposefully closer, far easier to distinguish now. "I haven't seen muscle atrophy this bad since after Nightmare Moon's reformation, sir. We have spells that can get him back to normal, but right now he needs rest."

The man in the black suit leaned forward, apparently inspecting Observos... He smelled of... Smoke and some sort of... Cologne? Sunken eyes peered forth, hidden behind tinted spectacles, boring holes into him. Somehow Observos knew this wasn't the man in black he'd seen, he was shorter, and... Familiar. The man straightened his posture, then his tie, before sucking on a strange tube of beige paper.

"Rise and shine, Mister Observos... Rise and shine..." The man's rasping voice was eerily familiar, stilted strangely, as a cloud of acrid smoke escaped his lips. "Are you the only one in there, old friend?" It clicked in his mind... Orcus... Only Orcus ever talked in that tone of voice, a side effect of his time with the occult. Observos didn't get a chance to speak, still Orcus nodded. "Yes... Yes it's just him in there... You may approach." The figure gray armor, it was a woman upon closer inspection, stepped forward and resting a gauntleted hand on his shoulder. Her face was hidden beneath heavy helmet, which seemed familiar as well... Though, not from his life... More his imagination. Something he'd come up with for a book, maybe?

"Do not fight it..." Luna's muffled voice rang forth from beneath the helmet, and for a few brief moments Observos was filled with a joy that couldn't be put into words. It wasn't to last, unfortunately. "Close your eyes and sleep, my love..." Her palm suddenly glowed, and a few brief seconds later, sleep is exactly what Observos did...

Seldom times had Orzel passed by the Situation Room, it was one of the many places she was considered too young for. She knew where it was, and that it was generally off limits, but that was more or less the extent of her knowledge. It was where Advisers and Generals met to discuss matters of urgency, and the young Princess had always known that one day she would be among those scarce few to sit within that secluded chamber. Now, as she and Cadence rested in plush leather chairs, the thing that stood out most to the girl was the unbearable stench. A hearty mix of stale air, smoldering tar, and something the girl couldn't place... Perhaps melted plastic? The source was obvious, as evidenced by a cadre of glowing embers and a thick haze of tobacco smoke.

It was bad enough that the emergency forced her to abruptly return to the Castle, especially after conceding to one of Cadence's proposed spa outings... Now, on top of everything else going wrong, she was forced to endure the aroma of her advisers' smoldering cigars. A chimney would've smoked less... Given the nature of what happened less than half an hour before, however, she supposed she couldn't blame the men seated around the table for being on edge. She too was anxious, though thankfully tempered by the familiar warm presence of Midnight nestled in her breast pocket.

The incident that forced them all together that day was being referred to by numerous Spell-Caster advisers as a 'Chaos Wave', a phenomenon not unknown to Orzel, though she was by no means an expert. Up until half an hour ago, the idea of a 'Chaos Wave' was constrained to the realm of Science Fiction. A theoretical possibility, but nothing more, until now. Her knowledge was limited to what she'd read in her various Science Fiction Novels and the brief primer given at the start of the meeting.

A Chaos Wave, as the name suggested, was a wave in the 'Arcane Barrier' spurred by something passing from one plane, through another equally theoretical realm known as Limbo, into the Realm of Equus. Unlike the event that brought her to Equestria, which was spurred by a miscast spell, the Chaos Wave emerged as a result of the object in question punching through with brute force.

This Chaos Wave in particular rendered a great many of Equestria's most basic of environmental services inoperable at best, and paradoxically destructive at worst. Weather teams were having difficulty controlling rogue storms of 'cotton candy' clouds, which were even at the moment drenching hundreds of thousands of acres of farmland in chocolate milk. The Minister of Agriculture was already explaining just how much of an impact that would have on current and future crops, with the milk solutes and sugar decomposing in the ground it would only be a matter of time before they started attracting all manner of insects. Normally these would've been washed away naturally by rain or snow, but the magical nature of this particular dairy product granted it a remarkable amount of staying power.

That was a long term crisis that would need dealing with, but the more pressing concern was already taking shape throughout the country. The Chaos Wave additionally introduced some sort of infectious madness across the land, with many people acting strangely, in some cases to the point of violence... Civil unrest was already being reported in several cities, not the latest of which being Canterlot. Stores were being looted, cars burned, houses robbed... No confirmed deaths, though hospitals were rapidly reaching capacity.

Cadence and the Minister of Agriculture were currently speaking on what, if anything, could be done to mitigate the damage to Equestria's food supply. It was a discussion that Orzel was admittedly paying only half her attention to, as her eyes rested firmly upon one of the empty seats at the table. The seat belonged to Director Aquila of the Nocturne Agency, the man whom she would've liked to have heard from the most. He was supposed to be the expert on all things bizarre and strange, and from the looks of things, he knew ahead of time exactly what was coming.

Orders were issued from his office only a few days prior that Canterlot's weather team, and indeed all weather teams, weren't to get involved with trying to stop the rampaging clouds. Those orders were widely disregarded, as the risk to Equestria's farmland was deemed of paramount importance. Setting the looming ecological disaster aside for a moment, the fact remained that Aquila knew something was coming, yet only elected to inform a select few people... Orzel and Cadence not being among them.

He'd likewise departed Canterlot along with Princess Luna and Celestia, further cementing in Orzel's mind his involvement. The teen quietly looked about the room, nostrils flaring from the sharp sting of second hand smoke, her fingers laced together on the table. Field Marshal Arcturus and Field Marshal Redwood were likewise occasionally glancing at the empty seat, as if uncertain about something, and that struck her as markedly suspicious. While neither Princess had been afforded a chance to change into more formal attire, both of them had nonetheless donned their crowns. Those were all that mattered. Each man in that room swore an oath to the Crown, to be faithful, honest, and true... Orzel got the distinct impression that she and Cadence weren't receiving all the information they were due, and that simply wouldn't do.

The young Princess understood there was a reason the two were initially left in the dark, at least prior to Luna and Celestia's departure. It would be far easier to prevent a security breach with less people 'in the know', but all of that reasoning went out the window the moment Equestria's strongest protectors left two virtual amateurs upon the throne. Cadence was by no means an actual amateur, but much like Orzel, she had but a fraction of Celestia or Luna's experience. Had the two of them been informed of just whatever it was that was coming, maybe there could have been a better plan in place, or any plan for that matter. Running a nation's day to day was one thing, but dealing with a National Emergency was completely beyond any topic Orzel and Luna had covered, especially if she still didn't have all the information.

Unfortunately, that lack of planning was the mentality fostered by Celestia's often effective but roundabout solutions... It mattered little now, as the aforementioned Solar Warden was gone to parts still unknown, leaving both of her nieces 'holding the bag'... Equestrian's had such interesting idioms... Orzel shook her head, she could delve into idioms later, when the country wasn't both figuratively and literally on fire... That last thought raised memories of the fall of Cesarski to the forefront, stoking a growing feeling of anger. It festered and took root, more perniciously than it should've, fighting against all attempts to control it. Orzel suspected she too was suffering the effects of this 'Chaos Wave'...

Out there, somewhere in the ongoing bedlam, Orzel couldn't help but picture a scared girl around her age. Hiding in her room, cowering beneath her bed, listening as anarchy descended on the streets outside her home. Waiting for her Mother to come and collect her, to bring her to safety, but there was nowhere that was truly safe. It was a mental image that rocked Orzel to her core. She could sympathize with keeping information secret when needed, but it did little to diminish the smoldering fury... If they'd been informed, if they'd had proper warning, Orzel could've used her powers to possibly prevent what was to come... To prevent someone from enduring what she'd endured. So the anger smoldered and festered in a place deep down, the place where Orzel banished all her other unpleasant thoughts, thoughts which it thereupon drew strength from...

Cadence and the Minister of Agriculture gradually concluded their discussion, and it was decided that the Equestrian Ministry of Environmental Protection would set up a 'super-fund' to address the damage once the Chaos Wave had passed. The country had a sufficient food stockpile to last several years if need be, slightly more than what would be necessary while the farms recovered, so they'd need to be careful to avoid over extending themselves. The problem of feeding their people had taken precedence, but with it now more or less settled, Orzel felt it time to get some answers. Clearing her throat, the teen sat up in her chair, glaring pointedly at Arcturus and Redwood. She wasn't sure as of yet if the two of them would retain their positions when all was said and done, assuming her suspicions were correct.

Putting the possibility that the worst had come to pass out of her mind was difficult, but the nation was in crisis, Mother would want her to be strong. Arcturus and Redwood looked at her with their own intensity, as if hoping to silence her through their glares alone... Undoubtedly they still saw her as a child, and though that was technically true, it didn't really matter. They might not have seen her as such, but at present she was the Sovereign, and she would uphold the duty charged her by the weighty crown upon her brow, regardless of age. Any that stood in the way of that duty, regardless of rank or standing with the Military, would thoroughly regret doing so... The two Field Marshals were, needless to say, on perilously thin ice.

"It is fortunate that the Ministry of Agriculture had the forethought to consider possible emergencies and stockpile accordingly..." Orzel began evenly, it was the first time she'd spoken since entering the room. Her voice trembled slightly at first, as the primal fear of losing her family again was still fresh in her mind. "We would be even more fortunate had we known ahead of time that something like this might have been coming." Her tone concealed a hint of accusation, just enough to silence the rest of the room. "This 'Chaos Wave' is the result of something coming into our realm from elsewhere through brute force, something that could be dangerous. Now, we are all aware that Director Aquila left express orders regarding the way in which these 'cotton candy' storms were meant to be handled... Does anyone here have a possible idea as to why he would issue such orders without informing the entirety of the Crown?"

"I believe I can answer your question, your Highness." Field Marshal Redwood began with a voice that was somewhat hesitant, this served only to stir the flaming cauldron within Orzel's chest. For all she knew her Aunt and Mother could be off facing some sort of giant monster, or worse laying slain in a ditch somewhere, and that thought alone would be typically enough to send her into an anxious tailspin. With her mounting indignation to counterbalance that anxiety, however, she held her ground. "There are certain situations that require a level of discretion, with information that remains on a 'need to know basis'. With all due respect, you aren't known for keeping a tight lip. Princess Cadence, likewise, wasn't on the list of people that needed the information."

"I see..." Orzel stated flatly, her eyes glowing a bit more brightly than they typically did. The young Princess's draconic temper had started to flare, and try as she might, it was like trying to put out a house fire with a shot glass. "So, when, in your infallible opinion, would I or Princess Cadence 'need to know', Field Marshal? Before or after Equestria is overrun by whatever foul creature escaped into our realm?!" The Field Marshal blinked in surprise, apparently not expecting such a loud voice to come from such a tiny frame. "I grant that the situation regarding Equestria's food is important, but in the long term. Meanwhile, we still have ongoing civil unrest and to top things off, there is still the possibility of an as yet unknown threat romping unopposed throughout Equestria! The Elements of Harmony are also unaccounted for, as are Princess Celestia and my Mother!"

"Your refusal to inform the Crown because we did not 'need to know' has cost us time! Time that could have been better used preparing for the worst! A far more immediate concern, wouldn't you agree!?" By now there seemed no stopping the towering apoplectic rage, the slumbering draconic super-volcano was waking from the pit in which Orzel stored all her fears. "It is inconceivable! In-con-ceivable! That we were not informed of a threat of this magnitude until it is already upon us is beyond the pale!" She actually rose from her seat, and when next she spoke it was in her native tongue, as her anger simply couldn't be contained to the soft sounding language of Equestria. "You will all be held accountable for any deaths that come about as a result of this treachery! I will make sure of it! Heads will roll! Do you understand me?! Heads! Will! Roll!"

In point of fact, the people in the room didn't understand her, and that was probably for the best... They didn't really need a grasp of Szafirian to get the message, Orzel could see as much in their eyes. There was actually quite a bit more to it then that, words that had no real translation into Equestrian, or any other written language for that matter. Primarily a string of phrases so profane in nature that Orzel wasn't entirely sure she didn't, in fact, invent entirely new imprecations. Obscenities of a sort that would make even her Uncle Olaf, the saltiest of the Imperial Armada's bosuns, blush...

To say she was losing her temper would be a drastic understatement. Orzel was beyond angry, beyond furious, her emotional state was so acrimoniously incendiary that it transcended traditional adjectives and entered the realm of the astronomical or geological. Somewhere in the corona of the nearest red giant, or perhaps at the lowest depths of Equus' outer planetary core, that was where her fury lay. She gripped the table with such intensity that two fist sized chunks of wood came away in her hands, which only exacerbated the problem, as she hated breaking perfectly good furniture.

Looking at her hands, Orzel became suddenly aware of something else... Her typically bronze skin was fast being replaced by glittering metallic bronze scales, and two very uncomfortably sharp fangs were at present digging into her lower lip... Her eyes likewise glowed like the searchlights of a dreadnought, stabbing forth with luminous beams that cut through the swirling vortexes of smoke. Somehow this development didn't fill her with the terror she thought it should... It felt right. Every instinct she'd been fighting since first arriving in Equestria now exulted in triumph, for the restraints she'd imposed upon herself all but evaporated in the face of the flames of instinctive fury.

Every person in the room was staring with a growing look of unease, some even scooting their chairs backwards, and she knew they were right to dread her wrath. The dragon was an instant away from crossing through the 'rage event horizon', into that boiling cauldron of ancestral anger... That was when she felt a sudden hand on her shoulder, and so the girl quickly turned, prepared to also rip into whomever was responsible. Cadence gave her an apologetic smile before immediately summoning her magic into her hand.

Orzel nearly pounced on her, but a wave of... Warmth... Washed over her. She heard... Music. A cheerful little lullaby that Sokol would sing to her as a child, more of a hymn, really... It was so far away, and yet so near, and in that moment it was all the girl could do to keep her attention on anything but the song. With remarkable speed, the ocean of wrath became as placid as the mirrored surface of a morning lake. While the glittering scales gradually transformed back to her typical skin, the jutting fangs remained... Still, Orzel felt... Safe... Like both of her Mothers were hugging her, tightly, protectively, unwilling to let any harm come to her... She didn't resist when Cadence gently sat her back down.

"Take it easy... Nice deep breaths. It's okay... You're okay... Focus on each breath, we're almost done here." The woman stated gently before turning to face the rest of the assembled group, who sat now in stunned silence. "You have yet to tell either of us what it is that could be the cause of this 'Chaos Wave'. Princess Orzel is correct... We should have been informed as soon as Luna and Celestia went missing, as well as the Elements of Harmony." Cadence made a point of emphasizing Orzel's title. Her voice was far calmer than Orzel's, though the girl couldn't understand how, she didn't really care either... That funny feeling of comfort just wouldn't... Wouldn't let her be angry. There was a noticeable edge to Cadence's words, however, and her typical cheerful demeanor had all but vanished. "The cause of the Chaos Wave is a far more pressing concern than its aftermath. So, please, enlighten us... Bear in mind, that's an order, not a request."

Redwood and Arcturus looked at one another, as if sharing some unheard discussion, before ultimately Arcturus spoke up. Both Princesses listened, Cadence more intently than Orzel, as the Field Marshal recounted the meeting held months ago within that very chamber, where the threat of a being known as Discord had been discussed. Orzel was far better acquainted with the subject, Equestrian history having proved one of her earliest interests... The desire to hide the nature of the threat was an understandable one, even if Orzel was less than sanguine about being left out of the loop for so long...

According to the Field Marshals, the Chaos Wave had originated at Neighless Army Air Corps Base, not far from the city of Las Pegasus. Preliminary reports indicated that 'Project Tartarus', the details of which remained frustratingly vague, had been a success. The base was still under lock down, and a burst of Arcane Radiation had fouled radio communications in the area, but the telegraph lines still worked well enough. The facility section housing Project Tartarus itself had been contaminated with amounts of Arcane Radiation, but those levels were predicted to decrease dramatically as the day went on. Discordium-22, the element responsible for the contamination, had an exceptionally short half-life of only a few minutes. The prognosis of the people underground remained unclear, but optimistic... Whatever that meant. Orzel couldn't focus on it... She just sank further back into the plush cushions her seat, which seemed to grow exponentially comfy with each passing second.

The best news of all was that Celestia and Luna were alive, thankfully, and would return to Canterlot after aiding further in the clean up operation. Their magic likewise could be used to counter the effects of Arcane Radiation, likely saving many other people from the ill effects left in the aftermath of whatever had transpired at Neighless. Until they returned, Orzel and Cadence were to continue running the country... This was all information that the Field Marshal's could've supplied earlier, and for that they would receive reprimand, but... Nothing so needlessly harsh as an execution.

"Okay..." Orzel said with an air of composure that surprised herself just as much as it did the other present advisers. "Place our military on heightened alert." She took a deep breath, looking about the rest of the room. What would Luna do in her situation? It was a quick realization that there was more to running a country than learning its laws, policies, and overall military strategy... The economy was her most pressing concern, now that the disposition of both senior Princesses had been ascertained. The stock market had taken a dip of several points, and she suspected it would only get worse as the day wore on. "Close the markets, we are likely to lose a good deal of consumer confidence when news of the agricultural emergency breaks." She glanced about the rest of the ministers. "Ensure that Law Enforcement has everything it needs to deal with the growing unrest, even if it means you must temporarily nationalize the Territorial Garrisons." She looked at Cadence. "Do you have anything further to add?"

"Heighten the presence of all Emergency Responders, not just Law Enforcement. I'd recommend deploying personnel from the Territorial Garrison's signal corps to the areas most effective, they can better coordinate with one another. We should also take steps to safeguard infrastructure like power plants, water pumping stations, and so on..." Cadence advised in that same calm tone from earlier, earning a nod from Orzel. "People are already fearing another Nightmare Moon incident. Add to that a bunch of people doing crazy things, which could include attacking our infrastructure, and it might be enough to start a mass panic." The other advisers seemed to be in agreement, though a few made additional comments that both Cadence and Orzel agreed to. With that, the room rapidly emptied so that the orders might be relayed, until only the two Princesses remained.

It was only when the two of them were left alone that the feeling of contentment that kept Orzel's temper in check finally faded, at which point a stinging sensation of hot tears flooded Orzel's eyes. They fell silently from her cheeks, splattering upon the wood of the conference table. Her next breath was a staggered, shuddering, gasping thing... The girl rose once more from her seat, leaning on the table, trying to will herself not to show any further sign of weakness. For a few moments she could feel the panic recede, she was bringing her mind under control. Her family was safe, both Luna and Celestia were on their way home... Her legs trembled, her face and palms suddenly sopped with sweat, forcing the girl to once again take a seat. Emotional whiplash, that was what she likened the sensation to. She was in control... She was in control!

"What... What just happened to me..." Orzel whispered in astonishment, looking once more at her hands before feeling at the two sharpened fangs jutting past her lower lip. "What did you do to me?! What are you turning me into!?" She demanded with harsh accusation, unable to hide the growing panic that was fast whipping up inside her. Turning in her seat, she glared at Cadence, but the other Princess merely shook her head.

"You're suffering the combined effects of the Chaos Wave and your own biology, it's weakened your ability to control your basic emotions..." Cadence calmly explained, taking one of Orzel's hands in her own and giving it a gentle squeeze. "All I did was apply an arcane sedative, its effects will pass in time." Orzel looked at the damage she'd done to the table. A deep sense of shame barged to the forefront as she realized the fear she'd likely caused in the advisers, a fear that quickly took root in her own heart. She could only imagine what frightful things might've happened had Cadence not stopped her when she did. Her research into her origins did make some mention of physical changes as she matured, but... Nothing like this.

"If you have no further need for me, I have a model I have been meaning to complete..." Orzel mumbled distantly, struggling to rise for a second time. The task was all she could think to do in that moment, something simple and detail oriented to recalibrate her faculties around, to help her better cope with her new reality. Any model she attempted to work on in that moment would be next to impossible to complete, as her hands were trembling from nerves, but to just sit down in the welcoming setting of her tower would hopefully be enough. Cadence looked at her dubiously, then offered an arm to help the emotionally shot Princess along.

"Station guards outside my quarters..." Orzel added darkly. "Order them to confine me there, by force if necessary, until... Until Mother returns to decide my fate. I am too dangerous to be allowed to roam free." Cadence once again shook her head. "I am an animal! Did you not see what I did to the table?! Can you imagine if that was a human being?!" The girl declared shakily, shivering as the adrenaline was still coursing through her veins.

"You aren't an animal... You weren't in control of yourself, and you didn't want to hurt anyone..." Cadence assured, but Orzel clenched her eyes as more tears filled them. She plonked herself right down on the floor, her legs far too wobbly for her to continue walking.

"You do not understand..." She squeaked, her body trembling like a leaf. "If you had not stopped me, I... I..." She pulled her knees up against her chest and held them there, clenching her eyes shut as the tears continued to flow. "I do not know what I might have done. I had no control..." She felt another hand on her shoulder, and that comforting sound of the lullaby briefly returned, before the woman picked her up from the floor with an audible grunt until once again she stood shakily on her own feet. "I am weak..." She grunted furiously, as she was still struggling to come to terms with the idea of being so overcome with fury that all control was rendered moot. What purpose was there for a Princess capable of such fits of temper? "Useless... Weak and useless... Defective..."

"Emotions are not something that can or should be controlled, Orzel. Managed, yes, but not controlled.." Cadence once again tried to be of comfort, but all it succeeded in doing was highlighting just how vast the gulf was between her desire to help and her ability to understand what just happened within Orzel's mind. Every day the instincts she felt gnawing at her grew more difficult to ignore. As if she was a bucket of water in the scorching desert... There was nothing the bucket could do to keep the water from evaporating, progressively fading away, until there was nothing left but oxidizing metal. What would happen to her when that last drop of water finally fizzled away was unclear, but if the events of the last few minutes were any indication...

"You cannot possibly understand!" Orzel retorted in a barely restrained shout. Up until that moment she'd never thought she could posses the capacity for such violent thoughts as those conjured in the fading fog of fury, and now the genie was out of the bottle. "It is not something any Equestrian can understand, I am coming to realize that now..." She added more rationally, clenching her fists and setting her jaw. "I am in control... I am in control... I am..." The girl sighed deeply. "I just require time alone to clear my head, and... Make sense of all this."

"If you're ever going to trust me, trust me now..." Cadence urged, walking with Orzel towards the door leading into the hallway. Midnight scampered up out of the girl's pocket, perching on the Princess's shoulder and nuzzling up against her neck. The familiar felt like a source of emotional strength, some untapped well of resolve... In just the past few hours, somehow, Orzel was gradually beginning to wonder how she'd ever gotten along without the tiny mouse. Why the familiar waited until that moment, and not when she was seemingly needed most, remained unclear. Cadence continued walking along, sparing only a brief glance at the creature. "I can handle things from here, but I suspect Aunt Luna would be incredibly furious with me if I left her daughter alone while in such a state. You need to decompress, and thanks to Aunt Celestia, I know just the place for the job."

Orzel looked skeptically at her cousin, nearly disregarding the offer out of hand. In truth, she wanted nothing more than to return to the comfort she found in her model ships. Something stopped her, however... With Luna and Celestia's safety assured, and perhaps the suggestive influence of the 'arcane sedative', it was a lot easier to accept the idea of trying something new. New, as the girl had come to learn, didn't always mean 'bad'. With an amount of resignation that surprised herself, Orzel nodded and allowed Cadence to lead her, hopefully, to a destination that would put her frayed nerves at ease.

The girl left her Crown in the custody of Cadence, retreating inward to her deeper thoughts as they moved onwards. She was numb to the outside, even as they navigated the hallways and eventually even departed the Castle, the journey was simply a blur of muted sounds and abstract images. The city outside the carriage window was still in a state of unrest, with numerous broken windows and tons of vulgar graffiti. The most extreme example of the civil unrest brought on by the Chaos Wave was the smoldering wreck of a firetruck, still being tended to by other fire fighters... An image which, in Orzel's summation, more than adequately encapsulated the days events.

She wasn't sure of the exact time it took to reach the unassuming white building in the more affluent, less destroyed, section of the city. It could've been minutes, or hours. Orzel didn't care either way... Shielded on either side by Grim and Fable, and with Cadence urging her along, the Princess didn't resist as she was led from the carriage, up the sidewalk, and then several stone steps. Only as she crossed the threshold into the structure did her senses register that this place was unlike any she'd been to thus far. The two bodyguards remained outside, leaving just Cadence to guide the girl's path.

The air was hot and humid, comfortably so, tinged with the faintest hints of what smelled like sea spray on a warm Cesarski afternoon. She could hear seagulls and crashing waves, apparently emanating from speakers mounted inconspicuously on the walls. Evidently this was a small waiting room, like that of Doctor Scratch... Orzel would need to call her later, but for now... She just wanted things to be over. While there were several seats and a secretary's desk, it seemed evident that Orzel wouldn't be subject to any sort of delay whatsoever...

Two women in crisp white garments stood beside a wooden door, and Orzel was honestly shocked to see that neither of them held a straight jacket or any other form of restraint. She could've sworn this was some sort of asylum or other institution, the sort of place where people who couldn't keep control were sent... Orzel sighed, maybe that came later... For now, she focused on the two strangers. One was tall and beautiful, the other was shorter and bookish, with spectacles that seemed remarkably similar in thickness to Orzel's own, perhaps a little thinner?

"Is it ready?" Cadence asked cryptically, the more beautiful of the two women merely nodded silently. "Okay, Orzel... I want you to go with my friend Serenity. Don't worry, I had the guards at the gate call ahead before we left, so they're all aware of just what's happening." Orzel raised an eyebrow at that, snapping back to the present with a renewed sense of unease. "This other woman is...?"

"Doctor Fang, Professor of Dragon History of the Ancient and Pre-Equestrian Eras at the Canterlot Institute for Draconic Studies." The bookish woman explained somewhat proudly, adjusting her spectacles.. "I've been helping Miss Serenity with this particular treatment for the past few months, adapting it for typical Equestrian use. It will be far easier to implement with a true Drake, you're in excellent hands." Orzel looked quizzically at the woman in question, crossing her arms with obvious mistrust.

"What 'treatment'?" The Princess's tone was skeptical, her eyes narrowed, the fangs digging uncomfortably into her chin. "You expect me to believe that this place, whatever it is, just happens to have something on hand to help a Drake?" Doctor Fang seemed slightly confused by the question, looking between both Princesses with questioning intent.

"This place is the foremost Spa in Canterlot." Miss Serenity explained, putting her hands on her hips, though Orzel suspected not in a judgmental way. "Doctor Fang and I were commissioned by the Crown to specifically create this treatment, by Princess Celestia no less." Orzel was about to ask another question, but stopped herself... She wasn't all that surprised, truth be told. Celestia was smart enough to know that one day, sooner or later, Orzel would lose control and suffer whatever transformation she'd just gone through... Perhaps the woman's capacity for future planning wasn't as limited as Orzel previously suspected. "Please come with us, your Highness."

"Very well..." Orzel agreed cautiously, looking over at Cadence for a few tense moments before stepping forward to accompany the two women in white. It didn't feel right to her, especially with so much still going on, as if she was abandoning her post... Hopefully whatever 'treatment' was in store for her wouldn't take too long, this sort of diversion couldn't become a regular thing, especially in times of crisis. The girl stopped briefly and looked over her shoulder. "Would you please call Doctor Scratch and let her know what happened? I would like to speak with her when this is over..." With Cadence's evident nod at her request, Orzel allowed herself to be led away to parts of the spa yet unknown...

The discharge of the Elements of Harmony was taking a bit longer to retract the effects of the Chaos Wave, but at least the damage was receding. The news wasn't all bad, at least from what Luna had been told. Yes, there had been several riots and, yes, the property crime rate had skyrocketed exponentially, but there were no fatalities... Injuries most certainly, but at least nobody had died. The Arcane Radiation, thankfully, was also gradually being dissipated by the effects of the Elements. The same couldn't be said for the 'chocolate milk' rain that had blanketed large swathes of Equestria. Even so, that facet of the crisis was being handled already...

The cover story she and Celestia had spun regarding what had happened likewise had been picked up by the media, all would know the heroic deeds that Twilight Sparkle and friends accomplished in defeating Discord. Celestia ultimately allowed the element bearers to decide if they wanted their memories redacted... It was the right call. She'd struck a nerve, comparing involuntary memory redaction to something the Szafirian Empire might do. It was exceptionally rare, but... She knew now from personal experience how jarring and hurtful things could be when the redaction failed. Still, the Element Bearers had seen far too much of how the 'sausage was made'... Something had to be done.

They agreed that while the 'cover story' proposed to be implanted in the Element Bearer's minds would be beneficial to their friendship and overall continued mental health. Still, in order to go ahead with the procedure the vote had to be unanimous. Unsurprisingly, Miss Applejack voted against it, so... They'd been sworn to secrecy instead. Whether that would last in the long term or not remained to be seen... As far as Equestria was concerned, the day was saved thanks to the power of friendship. Chalk another one up for the good guys...

The decision had also been reached that Orzel and Cadence wouldn't undergo the procedure, for the same moral reasons. Luna trusted both of them not to mention 'Project Tartarus' or the 'Darkstar Facility' to anyone. The woman shook her head at the thought of her daughter, a frown threatening to damage her calm facade. Word recently arrived by wireless that the girl was recovering from her first Elemental Transformation, but that she was still in a state of shock over the transformation aspect. To Luna's relief, according the message sent by Princess Cadence, her daughter had handled the situation leading up to her Elemental Transformation as admirably as someone of her modest years and experience could. Under the less than ideal circumstances, Luna was proud... Worried, but proud. The lingering effects of Orzel's near transformation, namely the fangs, weren't likely to go away, unfortunately...

Following the word that Luna and Celestia were indeed alive and well, the message Luna received via the wireless indicated Orzel was taking what Cadence referred to as some much needed 'me time' at a local spa, previously arranged by Celestia of all people. That said more for just how shaken her daughter actually was than anything else. If Orzel had scheduled herself to go anywhere near a spa, or any other frivolity that for that matter, she'd truly been on the cusp of a full on crisis.

Fortunately the stars were aligned, and the Chaos Wave struck on a day when Orzel was in a particularly stable state of mind. Doctor Scratch was at that very moment walking Orzel through just what had happened to her... That the Elemental Transformation was natural part of a Drake's maturation, that it represented no defect of character and that it only manifested when a Drake felt themselves or something they cared about was being threatened with grievous harm. It was a discussion Luna herself should've had much earlier, perhaps then it wouldn't have been so traumatic, but she'd honestly believed the girl's first transformation wouldn't come about until she was an adult...

For all she knew that likely would've been the case, if not for Discord's parting 'gift'. How much the aborted draconic rage would set her daughter back on the road to mental recovery was yet to be determined, but Orzel's words in the wireless transmission, 'I just want to go to bed and stay there', spoke volumes. According to Doctor Scratch, the lingering mental effects would pass in a day or so, the result of some particularly potent draconic brain chemistry. Once they'd dissipated, Luna's daughter would be more or less back to her usual neurotic self. At least, that was the hope...

Luna should've been home, helping her child through this adversity, but this was one instance where she couldn't just teleport as she typically would. The distant drone of the locomotive's whistle drew Luna back into the moment, back to the 'Infirmary Car' she'd ordered affixed to her personal train before departing Neighless. The hours since the hopefully permanent removal of the entity known as Discord and the return of Observos were more or less a blur. She'd been monitoring the man's condition for as long as she'd been able, sitting diligently by his bedside ever since the train's first departure while Celestia and the Director handled things in the MSC.

The bed's occupant was lanky, given his modest height, with a crop of dark brown hair atop his head, angular features, and a distinctive crescent-moon shaped scar on his cheek, beneath his left eye. Observos the Watchful, Luna's long lost love, lay unconscious before her... His face was just as boyish as she remembered, just as lively and warm as the last time the woman had laid eyes upon him. The memories were fresh and clear in her mind again, she recalled with all too much clarity just how her foolish suitor had nearly destroyed himself in an attempt to remain at her side.

Equally, she remembered giving the order to Orcus, having the memories of all those present altered to preserve a fiction... A fiction that would remain unchanged, as far as the Equestrian public was concerned. None knew with any certainty what the enigmatic 'Statesman' looked like, save those that knew him personally. As far as history was concerned, Observos the Watchful had died a hero, and would remain dead.

The man before her would be given a new name, a new history, just as Orcus had done for himself throughout the centuries. Luna shook her head once again at the thought of the Director... How short sighted she'd been, all those years ago, to place a burden of such weight on her friend's shoulders. Yet throughout the years he had worked to help her, no matter the cost to himself...

All in the service of bringing her to that very moment, seated beside a bed that housed the one man for whom Luna would give almost anything. Orcus fully expected to lose his position, and ultimately his very life, just to see Luna and Observos once again reunited. That sort of loyalty was difficult to come by in Ancient Equestria, and nearly impossible in the Modern Era. She could only hope Orzel would find such loyal and principled companions of her own.

She was well on her way with one at least, albeit thanks to Celestia... Spike was supposedly an honorable and heroic boy, but he was just that, a boy... Luna was a teenager once herself, as was Observos, so she had an idea just where Spike and Orzel's heads might be at. The woman sighed, she was probably worrying over nothing. This was the sort of thing she'd never considered when she was her daughter's age, what Celestia must've felt like...

Luna shook her head again, as she'd reminded herself there was another facet of the equation the woman would need to address. How would her daughter respond to the arrival of a sudden and unknown suitor? Knowing how she thought, Orzel's first reaction would be to assume she was being replaced, or that she would take a back seat to Observos going forwards... Luna sighed again, she doubted she'd ever find a way to totally assure the girl that not a soul on Equus or beyond could 'replace' her.

The car rattled gently upon the tracks, causing the IV bottle hanging overhead to sway, bringing her thoughts back to the present. Luna silently slid her hand onto the soft bedding, slipping her fingers among Observos' and squeezing his hand. How she'd longed throughout her banishment and beyond to feel his skin against her own, grieving under the self inflicted falsehood that such a thing was impossible. She was undeniably angry with him, for a variety of reasons, including how his return had affected her daughter, but the woman couldn't bring herself to show that anger at present.

To her surprise and overwhelming thrill, the woman felt Observos' fingers tighten around her own. His eyes fluttered briefly, struggling as they became accustomed to the glow of the dimly glowing electronic light bulbs overhead. His expressive orbs latched on to the IV tube affixed to his arm, then widened in apparent panic. That was understandable, Medicine had come a great many light years in his absence. Without a moments hesitation, Observos reached frantically towards tube, evidently with the intention of ripping it out.

"Leave that alone..." Luna spoke as she gently grabbed the man's hand, forcing it back to the bed. Despite all that had happened, Luna couldn't prevent a wide smile from spreading over her face, nor did she want to. Observos grunted indignantly, looking at her with visible confusion... "You are in good hands, Observos. Trust that this is for your own benefit." She gestured to the IV, then took his hand in both of hers, unable to hide the shimmering of her eyes. Recognition dawned in his eyes, a mix of melancholic happiness and disbelief. She'd heard him and his rambling when first they'd opened the containment vessel, and there was only one way to be sure he was really all there. "Do you remember who I am?"

"Luna..." Observos rasped with a voice of sandpaper, Luna nodded simply and with a flare of magic conjured a glass of water within her palm. Leaning the glass to Observos' mouth, she tilted it and allowed the man to drink. His atrophied muscles tensed as the cool refreshing liquid passed his lips, soothing a throat that had gone unquenched for over a thousand years. She withdrew the glass a few moments later, not wanting to overwhelm him. "Thank you." He grunted, his voice gradually clearing. A sudden look of terror filled his eyes, and to Luna's surprise the man attempted to get out of the bed. "The Tribal Council!" He barely managed to speak, but Luna gently forced him back into his laying position. "They're plotting to-"

"Their plot has been foiled..." Luna soothed, abruptly halting Observos' urge to escape the bed. It seemed obvious now that he remembered little of his time imprisoned, or realized how long he had been gone from the world. Luna had been aware of every moment of banishment, she'd watched the march of progress from her lofty prison upon the lunar surface, though she supposed perhaps it was different for those in statue form. A look of relief passed over Observos' face at the news of the foiled plot, his head resting back on the pillow of his bed. "Much has changed since we have been apart, my love..." Hearing those words pass her lips had just as much effect on Luna as it did on her suitor, a ghost of a smile playing across both of their faces. "It has been a long time."

"How long?" Observos weakly inquired, pausing briefly as he noticed the gentle rocking motion of the car trundling along the tracks. Another powerful deep bellow escaped the locomotive's whistle, visibly startling the man, his look becoming somewhat pleading. "Is this room... Moving? What's that strange sound?" Luna grinned faintly, squeezing the man's hand again as the train's brakes squealed lightly beneath the floor.

"Far too long..." The woman trailed off, rising from her seat and walking towards a set of shades drawn over one of the windows. Pulling them open, she heard the unmistakable gasp from behind her, undoubtedly the result of what lay beyond. Trees flitted past in a blur, small clouds of orange and red leaves occasionally coiling up into view before dissipating in the train's wake. The sun was gradually setting outside, soon it would come time to raise the moon. "The room is indeed moving, my dear Observos, and that noise comes from the remarkable machine that enables it to do so." She turned and strode back towards him, resuming her seat at his bedside. "All will be explained, in due time. The details do not matter now, what matters is that you and I are together once again..." Luna took Observos' hand once more, earning an unusual expression from the man.

"Celestia won't allow our courtship to continue, even if the Tribal Council has been thwarted." The man stated gloomily, Luna shook her head, once again smiling at his confused expression. "If that is so...? It has been a long time..." He concluded, rubbing at the back of his neck, as if unsure of allowing himself even the slightest glimmer of hope. "You would still have me, after what I've done?" Luna leaned forward, unable to help herself, planting a gentle kiss upon his lips.

"There is no one I would rather have beside me than you..." She lovingly confirmed, watching the blush cross Observos' pale cheeks as his lips curled into a smile. She didn't want to think about just what it had cost to bring him back... All told, the price tag of her reunion probably lurked somewhere in the hundreds of millions, perhaps even billions? That didn't even include the human cost, those whom had been exposed to dangerous levels of Arcane Radiation, or the necessary repairs to the Dark Star Installation, or the shaken economy and unfolding ecological disaster...

It would be well worth that price if Observos could mend the Arcane Barrier, and reduce the threat of an extra-dimensional invasion. Even his very presence, with all his powerful magic, would be a boon. No, she couldn't think of it like that at present. The world was more complex now than it had been all those centuries before, but Luna knew regardless of that, she and her long lost love would find a place within it together...

Chapter 12

For Princess Orzel, the days following the Chaos Wave were proving difficult, and not only because many of her advisers were still wary of rejoining her for the daily meetings. Celestia and Luna would soon return to retake their thrones, though, and all her concerns about running the country would considerably abate... The primary difficulty therefore arose from the Orzel's own conscience, and the frightful revelations she'd received from within. She'd been told her Draconic blood might amplify her emotions, but the true depths of that emotion left her ears ringing... All the negative factors of her personality now felt closer to the surface than ever before, a seal that should've remained closed, left unceremoniously smashed open.

She was accustomed to keeping those emotions in check through sheer force of will, but they'd been stirred up into a frenzy now, one which she couldn't control as she'd done before. For her sake, as much as the sake of those around her, that was simply unacceptable. So she'd resolved in her off hours to pursue a new line of research, one of introspection, a stronger means of taking charge of her emotions... Therapy alone wouldn't cover it, she needed something else, something... Abstract, much as she hated to admit it. The search for that abstract something was taking her to places in her mind she'd only started to re-explore recently, the realm of ritual, faith, and spirituality...

It was for this reason she needed complete and utter solitude, and to that end she'd had the doors of her tower replaced. The new barriers were a far heavier, sturdier, and by all accounts more durable models, of a sort similar to those used on the powder magazines of Equestria's battleships. There was no visible means of undogging the hatch from the outside. The steel was instead lined with numerous strings of runes of Orzel's own devising, each faintly glowing a mix between cerulean and a green that reminded her of oxidizing bronze. None but a select few could open the doors, nor could they be teleported through, or opened by any magical means she knew of. She'd also taken steps to ensure that, should she ever undergo another Elemental Transformation while within, they would keep her confined to the tower...

Confident that she wouldn't be disturbed, Orzel went on to surround herself with books pertaining to the more miasmic realm of deities. The shelves of the Castle library were stripped completely bare of every volume, tome, or pamphlet that might contain a reference to meditation, self control, spirituality, philosophy, the pursuit of self improvement, or even the occult. Cadence insisted she was overreacting, that one isolated incident beyond her control didn't warrant such concern, but... Cadence didn't live inside Orzel's head.

She didn't see the nightmares every night, didn't feel the staggering influences of emotion that Orzel endured, as now even trying to carry out the simplest of tasks could send her mind spinning. Cadence hadn't imagined herself willingly surrendering to instinct, nor did she know the tantalizing sense of euphoric relief that came when blinding rage commingled with an instinctual blood-lust for ultra-violence. Orzel therefore discounted statements that 'this wasn't her fault'... Even if that was true, which in part she believed to be the case, the fact remained that she was capable of terrible thoughts... Thoughts that could just as easily turn to actions, should she ever fully lose control. Orzel's self-imposed isolation was therefore just as much for her own sanity as it was for her search for spiritual fortitude.

Fortunately she hadn't lost total control, thanks in large part to her Cousin Cadence and Aunt Celestia. Her experience at the spa included a period where she was encouraged to lounge upon a large pile of polished river stones within a sauna, heated to temperatures that would've easily maimed or disfigured a typical Equestrian. The mix of glorious steam and blistering heat felt absolutely divine to her, allowing her a true respite from all tension and anxiety, and it was only the start of the treatment. Doctor Fang called the effect 'Hoard Slumber', a deeply meditative state most Drakes entered when laying beside or on top of their hoards, or any source of extreme heat.

Orzel therefore determined that meditation would be the key to better regulating her emotional turmoil, yet even this wasn't without its problems. Several religious books rekindled thoughts of her life before Equestria, harkening back to a time when once her Mother sought to teach her the meditative techniques of the Vindictan Order. The teachings hadn't been successful, but Orzel was incorporating what she remembered into her research regardless... Doctor Scratch agreed that perhaps a diversion from her typical patterns of thought might let her 'reset', and after they'd discussed her desire to find some higher power, she set to work with a will. Of all the books she'd so far read, only one actually spoke to her. 'In the Pursuit of Knowledge: The Sacred Teachings of Our Lady Lexicos', the book she was currently re-reading...

The electronic light bulbs were all shut off in Orzel's bedchamber at the top of her tower, and so the only illumination with which she could read came from dozens of flickering votive candles, each resting in dark crimson glass vessels. The room was filled with the smell of frankincense and sage, emanating from a smoldering brass smoke pot, a scent that Orzel welcomed heartily. Her phonograph sat in the corner, modified with enchantments and runes, which filled the cavernous space with droning litanies and ektanias of a Lexican monastery in the mist shrouded mountains of the Southern Dragonlands.

They reminded her of the Vindictan Monks, who every week would lead the temple congregation in chants and prayer. These monks weren't Vindictan, but they sounded... Very close. To those that couldn't understand Draconic, Orzel was now up to eight or nine words out of ten, the chants might've sounded grim, ominous, or dark. Yet they sang of contentment, discovery, and the pursuit of the truth. They were hopeful and solemnly humble, a far contrast to the litanies of the Vindictan Church, which often proclaimed a need for the swift destruction of all foes...

According to the book she was reading, Lexicos was the Draconic Goddess of knowledge. A benevolent teacher and powerful sorceress, who sought to educate the people of the world. 'Goddess' was a bit of a misnomer, as the woman apparently didn't seek deification, but rather had it thrust upon her... Those that attempted to censor, obfuscate, or lie were the only ones that genuinely earned her wrath. Truth was the ultimate guiding principle, and the followers of the faith were urged to seek out knowledge in all its forms, that they might pass it to others, who would pass it to others, with the final goal of creating a more enlightened future.

Meditation played a major role in the Lexican faith, as knowledge required wisdom to be used properly, and wisdom required patience. It helped that Lexicos hadn't abandoned her followers to face hordes of unspeakable enemies on their own, as was the case with Vindicta and Cesarski. Once more, according to the book, Lexicos stood with her ancient followers through massive battles the likes of which Modern Equestria couldn't conceive. Of course, Orzel doubted the account could be fully trusted, even if its author was being as truthful as possible, historical accounts had a tendency to be skewed by those writing them. Despite this, the girl found herself hoping the story was true.

Even after the discussion with Doctor Scratch, it was difficult for Orzel to read books about such abstract topics. Spirituality couldn't really be quantified, she couldn't examine it in a beaker or test tube... A small part of her cried out that what she felt was actually the lingering effects of guilt at abandoning her Mother's faith. Still, a larger part claimed that wasn't true, that there was room for it in her heart... She didn't know which was right, as much as she hoped it was the latter. This was Equestria, she had a right to worship whomever or whatever she wanted, and yet she still felt the need to justify herself. Why? Why was it that everything she thought about doing that might deviate from the norm, in her mind, suddenly became some... Insurmountable taboo.

The girl shook her head as she closed the book, glancing ahead through one of the arrow slits in her tower. The girl sighed deeply, rubbing at her temples and forcing her thoughts back towards order. Time and again she'd surmounted the insurmountable taboo, first with simply meeting Luna's eyes, then with admitting her... Orientation... This need to justify every thing she did was just another lingering reminder of the way things used to be. Now she needn't fear an errant phrase, or a word out of turn... There would be no visit from the MIS, no unannounced search of her chambers, no veiled threats of imprisonment or fates too unimaginable to transcribe... No matter how long she spent here, she supposed she'd never be free from the lingering fear those three letters conjured.

Recalling the infamous Agent Zhelezo, the man that'd tormented her family for as long as she could remember was... Difficult, emotionally speaking. Not just because he loved making both implicit and explicit threats, but because the latter of those threats typically involved Orzel never seeing her family again. Merely calling the man's name to mind was like opening a doorway into a darkened basement. With the mental image of the sneering MIS officer, coupled with the smell of ink and parchment... A flood of fearful memory nearly overwhelmed Orzel as she returned to a warm summer morning, perhaps less than a month before she'd come to Equestria. Agent Zhelezo came to her family's estate while Father was away at sea, his purpose being to assess whether or not Orzel was to be turned over to the state for 'parental reassignment'.

He'd written something down for her to read, and when she obviously couldn't, forcibly slammed her head into the table, then held it closer to the parchment. The smell of parchment and ink, which she'd come to enjoy in Equestria, in that moment only instilled pain. Fearing that her life depended on it, she struggled to make sense of the letters... 'I am defective, I have always been defective, I will always be defective'... Terrified, she recited these words over and over again... Zhelezo screamed at her to speak louder and louder, his nails digging into her scalp, forcing her to scream over and over how defective she was...

That was when Sokol burst into the room, leveling the family sword at Zhelezo's throat, threatening to split him from head to groin if he didn't leave. Zhelezo threatened Sokol with imprisonment, threatened to take Orzel away, until Sokol reminded him just who it was that Father would be bringing home for dinner upon his return... The Lord High Admiral wouldn't be happy to hear the MIS was threatening the family of one the Armada's most decorated Captains. That apparently wasn't enough to sway him to leave, so Mother produced a fairly sizable burlap sack from one of the kitchen cupboards. She tossed it to his feet, and Orzel recalled its contents sounding heavy and metallic.

Orzel realized now, in hindsight, that it was obviously a bribe... One that Mother paid the man whenever he visited. The blur that was Zhelezo hefted the bag, complained that it felt lighter than usual, and finally released his grip on Orzel's skull. Agent Zhelezo issued a warning of his own, that they hadn't heard the last of him, then stormed out, but not before first stopping to remind Orzel that the MIS wouldn't forget her 'non-compliance'... Somewhere in her mind, a little voice managed to remind her this was Equestria... This was her room... Agent Zhelezo wasn't here... He couldn't hurt her or her family anymore... She was safe...

For a few moments Orzel sat in stunned silence, staring blankly at the wall as the memory faded in her mind. Her hands were shaking, her ears were ringing, tears threatened to spill forth, and each breath was taken as if it might very well be her last. She'd had things like this happen before, episodes where she would be doing or thinking about something mundane, and then... She'd be pulled back into some vivid memory, reliving past events as if for the first time. Doctor Scratch called them 'involuntary recurrent memories', a fancy way of saying 'flashback', just one of the many issues they were working on...

While they didn't happen often, they almost always took her to places she didn't want to go. Prior to that last one, the previous had taken place on the night of the Grand Galloping Gala... A fact she tried to put out of her mind, so that she could focus back on her work. This particular incident allowed her to connect the dots, albeit hazily. Her family hadn't been struggling to get by because Mother and Father didn't make enough, it was because of Zhelezo... Because they were bribing him... Buying her safety, so that the state wouldn't take her away... She didn't know how to feel about that.

Her thoughts were fully restored when Midnight scampered down from Orzel's shoulder, standing silently on the open page and staring at the Princess with those glowing golden eyes. The girl didn't remember the familiar being on her shoulder to begin with, then again... It might've happened while her mind was elsewhere. She couldn't afford to let herself be sidetracked by emotional weakness again. She was strong, she was in control, she wouldn't be defeated by something as insignificant as a bad memory... Even if her still trembling hands might've suggested otherwise.

It was just passing sunset, and soon Orzel would be called from her chamber to preside over nightly court. Her earlier attempts at meditation proved somewhat helpful, and a brief session of meditation would help to ward off the stress that came with dealing with petitioners. Especially now... With that in mind she stood from her desk and approached her wardrobe, changing out of her clothes and into simple gray robes. Her headscarf, of course, remained as it always did.

Now adorned in more comfortable garments, Orzel approached a pile of books she'd amassed at her chamber's center, courtesy of her earlier visit to the Castle library and her own recently stocked bookshelves. The pile was neatly organized, and more resembled a tightly ordered bed than anything else. Orzel just couldn't bring herself to toss perfectly good books around haphazardly like that. She seated herself atop her hoard of knowledge and closed her eyes, then took a long, deep, calming breath. Though the effect was less noticeable now, she could feel the contented sensation of the Hoard Slumber fast approaching. It washed over her like warm water, slowing her breathing, focusing her thoughts on the internal...

"The light of truth burns in us all..." She chanted in Draconic, keeping time with the litany playing from her modified phonograph. "Show me the light... Show me the light..." The mantra was repeated over and over again, until Orzel's voice had merged almost entirely into the collective recording, her mind gradually becoming completely vacant of trouble or worry.

Her body was at peace, her mind soon to follow. She was in control of her thoughts, she was in control of her emotions... She was in control. Flashes of vague imagery filled her head as she felt an odd sensation, small scampering feet that clawed up her sleeve and perched on her shoulder. Midnight, her Familiar, apparently was joining her. Despite the brief interruption Orzel, continued to chant the mantra.

"The light of truth burns in us all... Show me the light... Show me the light..." Orzel repeated as lowly and slowly as the recording, peering into the blank blackness of her own consciousness. More flashes came to view, this time of her own accord, images of herself on the throne.

She imagined herself facing one aggressive petitioner after another, being insulted and derided, and how she would respond to such instances. At first, as expected, Orzel imagined herself snapping back... Yelling, or ordering them thrown out, or once more undergoing the Elemental Transformation. The images abruptly turned to the first days she'd been in Equestria, when she'd contemplated destroying her first model out of grief. While it might've made her feel better in that moment, it would've done irreparable harm to the model, and she'd have regretted her actions almost as soon as she'd carried them out.

Gradually she applied that same logic to the flashes of violent outrage. There were those that would resist or detract her rule, but they were her subjects regardless, and she could not allow her emotions to dictate that she take undue action against them. She was their Sovereign, their guardian and protector... She would redirect any ill feelings she had towards her true opponents, those who would undermine the liberty and prosperity of her people.

Time gradually bled into itself, minutes might as well have lasted hours, each spent focused on the prospect of refining her emotional control, and redirecting her rampaging thoughts more productively. Every breath stretched as wide as the sky, every thought as vast as an ocean, until her consciousness became an island unto itself, from which she could look out upon the tossing tempest of emotion. There on her island she found tranquility, if only for a short while. An odd sensation quickly overtook her, the feeling that perhaps she wasn't fully alone...

Looking about the space of her mind, she caught a brief glimpse of two feminine figures, clad in robes similar to her own. The fabric appeared remarkably fine for each of them, though one was black while the other was white. With their faces shrouded by their hoods, Orzel saw only faintly glowing eyes in the shadows. The black hooded figure had eyes of brightest gold, while her counterpart's were emerald in hue. Orzel could only wonder just what they represented in this world of meditation...

Before she could get too deep into that line of thought, however, the figure in white pointed westward, out to sea. The image of the island was suddenly subsumed by blackness, replaced in an instant by images of a gigantic library... The vaulted halls and ceilings stacked with bookcases and shelves reaching dizzying heights, each brimming with neatly organized rows of tomes, scrolls, and all sorts of other written works. These in turn were overtaken by flashes of the sea, vistas of gently sloping white beaches and cyclopean cliff faces that towered above the cold crashing waves with imperious impunity. Orzel felt drawn to the visions, unable to describe the sensation they brought beyond a single word... Yearning.

Then came brief glimpses of deserts and forests, great frozen tundras and wide open steppes, towering mountain ranges and bottomless ravines. Somewhere she gazed upon another island, a beautiful tropical paradise, where the at the foot of a great mountain the shattered remnants of an ancient citadel lay hidden, concealed beneath millenia of overgrowth. It was here that she was overcome by a sudden surge of grief, for whatever reason she knew something terribly sad had transpired within the forgotten enclave. These were places Orzel never once laid eyes upon before, yet they were so vivid in detail and sensation that she couldn't help but believe she'd once traversed those strange and distant lands.

"The light of truth burns in all of us... Show me the light... Show me the light..." Orzel repeated the mantra more forcefully, calling upon all her will to try and slow the speed at which the images came, but they just came on stronger and stronger with each passing moment. "The light of truth burns in all of us... Show me the light... Show me the light..."

Gradually, after what felt like an eternity, the visions vanished into nothingness, and Orzel once more found herself staring into the unfeeling blackness. The Princess's heart rate and breathing became even slower, each inhale filling her nose with the smell of the dense aromatic fog that lingered near the floor. The recorded chants faded slowly out as that particular litany came to an end, though they were quickly replaced by one that sounded slightly more joyful than the previous, which provided the girl a new mantra. She listened for a few moments, memorizing the words as quickly as they came to her...

"Lady Lexicos... Sacred Mother of Knowledge... Your divine serenity we beg...." Orzel chorused again in Draconic, just as before, though this time with greater conviction. "By your mercy our world knows truth... By your mercy our hearts know justice..."

Once more she was inundated with visions, visions of the great marble halls of Vindicta's temple, the statues and banners. They were just as vivid, just as detailed, as the others... Though she'd never seen the the temple with the aid of her glasses. At first, Orzel fought to purge the images, not wishing to be reminded of Vindicta or her betrayal of Cesarski, but... Something fought back, and they refused to be banished.

There was a time when she'd chanted litanies alongside Sokol, kneeling before the great bronze statue of Vindicta. It was the eve of her fifteenth 'birthday', and Orzel could still recall the nervousness with which she prayed. Agent Zhelezo and his comrades had just paid them a visit... They'd turned up at the family estate and politely 'encouraged' Sokol and Orzel to leave while they conducted a search for dissidents they feared might be casing the house for robbery. Both Mother and Daughter knew that the story was false, though they didn't dare argue with Zhelezo. Sometimes the MIS just turned up to search peoples homes, purely to remind them that they could... It was on that day, faced once more with the frightful possibility of being detained for her own 'protection', that Orzel prayed to Vindicta with the most earnestness of her life.

Now she found herself chanting religious hymns once again, not out of fear, but rather out of hope... The Princess didn't know if she believed them or not, and that didn't sit well with Orzel. Then again, she wasn't sure what she believed anymore. She thought she did, or at the very least that was what she told herself. Like so many other things about herself, however, there were some things she couldn't force herself to accept as true... While she shunned the Vindictan Church, and generally found visits to the temple overly lengthy, they were nonetheless times she'd spent with her Birth Mother. Now, she had the opportunity to go of her own accord...

It was a topic she'd likely need to discuss with her Mother, or... Maybe not, on second thought. Mother would worry about her if she said she wanted to visit a Lexican Temple, even if it was only to ask a few questions or sit in for a service. Some of the books in the library had been provided by a Lexican Temple in Canterlot, situated in an enclave of Drakes and Equestrians that spent a good amount of time in the Dragonlands. Perhaps Aunt Celestia or Cousin Cadence were the better choice ask about such a visit... Like so many other things, that thought could wait for later...

The images of the temple faded gradually into a wide open meadow, of a sort that Orzel didn't think could ever really exist in reality, yet once again it felt real. On and on it stretched, into infinity, with grass that came up to her chest... The grass was an odd shade of raspberry, the ground an odd violet-blue. Towering in the distance, so tall as to disappear into the vibrant turquoise sky, she saw a great slab of stone... An insurmountable rectangular monolith of purest alabaster, radiating golden light, encompassed by spectral strands of text. Smooth, precise...

Orzel could feel something or someone there, calling out to her... Urging her to comes towards them, towards the Monolith... Then, just as Orzel was about to take the first mental step, the chanting from her phonograph came to an abrupt halt.

"Your Majesty, forgive the interruption, but you are due for Evening Court." A baritone voice crackled over the phonograph, one of the enchantments she'd bestowed upon it was an ability to serve as an intercom. "Your Majesty?" Her concentration broken, Orzel sighed deeply through her nose... Just as she thought she was making progress.

"Thank you for the reminder, Grim..." Orzel stated calmly, her eyes remaining closed as she took a few final moments to bask in the pleasant serenity of her hoard of books. "I will be down shortly." With that assurance the chanting returned, and Orzel opened her eyes to the darkened space of her bedchamber once more. At some point Midnight departed from her shoulder, though where the mouse was now remained unknown... Familiars were such... Enigmatic creatures.

Rising to her feet, Orzel moved to the phonograph and removed the needle from the spinning record, plunging the room into uncomfortable silence. The girl quickly changed out of her robes into more formal attire, a simple burgundy gown, her striped blue and white sash, headscarf, and of course her crown. With a quick incantation, she extinguished not only the candles, but the smoldering frankincense and sage as well.

Midnight sat on her desk beside one of her books, peering at its title, likely for reasons Orzel would never know... Straightening her glasses and ensuring her crown rested snugly atop her scarf, the girl whistled softly. With that signal Midnight scampered down off the desk, hopping off the chair and quickly rushing towards Orzel. The girl picked the mouse up, gently stroking its furry head before letting it perch on her shoulder as it so often liked to do.

The heavy security door leading to the base of the tower was locked tight, and while she could open it manually from this side, Orzel instead opted to speak another incantation. The magic flowed from her lips, illuminating the runes that dotted the door's surface, willing the heavy steel bolts to withdraw and allowing it to swing almost effortlessly open on its hinges. The Princess quickly made her way down through her tower, which shared its overall atmosphere with the gloom in the Princess's bedchamber.

From there it was a swift and very uncomfortable walk through the gardens, as the fall temperatures rendered the air an exceptionally brisk forty degrees Fahrenheit. She didn't know how the palace guards could stand such extreme cold without heavy wool coats... Then again, for her, anything below fifty degrees might as well have been freezing. There was of course a route she could've taken that wouldn't require her to go outside, beneath the ramparts and into the Castle proper... Orzel was rather attached to the gardens, as strolling through them always reminded her of Sokol, Luna, and her new family.

The memories could be painful, but the Princess almost always felt closer to her Mother... Both of them. The girl stopped briefly, casting a look back at her tower, her face lacking any outward expression. Inwardly she was stunned, because in the wake of her meditation thinking about Sokol didn't... Didn't hurt as much as it usually did, or, rather, it hurt differently... The memories weren't as raw, nor was the pain as visceral. For a few fleeting seconds she almost felt... Normal. Clasping her hands behind her back, the girl silently carried on into the Castle itself. Grim and Fable awaited her there, attired in their dress uniforms, quickly falling in behind her as she made her way to the throne room.

"Tonight's docket is a fairly heavy one, would you like me to contact Princess Cadence to assist you?" Grim asked curiously, the big man easily keeping up with the smaller stride of his diminutive charge. He asked that question every night without fail, ever since the first time Orzel held Nocturnal Court. As with every time he'd asked, the Princess stoically shook her head in reply.

"I do not think that is necessary." Orzel's response wasn't chiding, even if perhaps she was growing tired of the question. She suspected that Grim and Fable didn't think she was ready, that she should call upon Cadence for aid, or allow the woman to handle her duties entirely... It was their job to worry about her, so she didn't hold it against them... They just didn't understand. "Are there any petitioners in particular that you feel I should be aware of before I begin?" Grim and Fable shared a brief uncertain look, never a good sign.

"Lord Jet Set and his wife, your Majesty." Fable's voice was uncharacteristically hesitant. "They come seeking restitution for damage their residence sustained during the unrest." Orzel couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at that. There already existed a means for those seeking financial aid as a result of the crisis to file with the government. While they were still entitled to come before the Crown with their petition, it was wholly unnecessary. Unless...

"They are undoubtedly here to request more than what they are due yes?" Orzel concluded bluntly, turning a corner as they drew ever nearer to the throne room. "It seems that is the bulk of my petitioners as of late." She added with a tone of skepticism, as she suspected many of those she'd encountered thus far were banking on her youth and inexperience to get more than they were entitled to. "Very well... Move them to the top of the list. I wish to deal with them as quickly as possible." Grim and Fable nodded together. "You are dismissed." The two men nodded, breaking off from behind the Princess to go and carry out her orders.

This situation with Jet Set was why Cadence couldn't be involved. If he and his wife couldn't get what they wanted from Orzel, they'd turn to her cousin for aid... Cadence would likely agree with Orzel's ruling, but her mere presence would undermine Orzel's authority, and that was something the latter couldn't accept. Orzel had already asserted her dominance among her advisers, and despite the emotional unpleasantness that followed her near transformation, the Princess was quite sure none of them would withhold vital information from her in the future. Now she needed to show the nation at large that she wasn't some child to be ordered around.

She didn't take pride in the method... Having to 'flex her muscles' to secure her authority. Orzel didn't want to be the type of ruler that did so through fear or intimidation, as to inflict that same terror on others which she'd been subjected to so many times was to her an act of weakness... Unfortunately, as the teen was coming to realize more and more, there were seldom times where a Princess got what she wanted. She'd try to ease up, try to give a little slack, but wouldn't be walked all over in her own home... It was only for another night or so, then Mother would return and all would be right with the world... Or, as right as it could be. What could go wrong...? She cringed inwardly almost immediately after having that thought.

The girl turned down another hallway, this one terminating with a pair of stately ornate doors. Both sides were lined by a cadre of men and women in the dress uniforms of the Lunar Marines, all of whom abruptly snapped to attention at her arrival. Orzel had done away with the ceremonial armor, at least for those who weren't in public view... Part of her initiative to make the throne her own. It wouldn't last, as Luna was sure to return, but at least it would help set a further precedent that Orzel's Court wouldn't be the same has her Mother's. There were other facets she'd changed, primarily pertaining to protocol, though some were admittedly for her own preference. She wouldn't admit it aloud, but she actually rather liked the pageantry, even if most of it was superfluous flourishes. Orzel quietly approached the doors, waiting patiently for her cue.

"Announcing the arrival of her Royal Majesty, Crown Princess Orzel, Heir to the Obsidian Throne and Acting Regent of the Night!" Grim's voice rumbled forth from beyond the oaken slabs, striking forth in that thunderous cannonade fashion of his. A moment later the doors opened to their fullest, flanked on either side by Grim and Fable, who in turn snapped to attention. The room beyond wasn't the throne room, rather the atrium before it, where the petitioners of the night waited for their audience with the Crown. This was another of the changes Orzel instituted, which she hoped would allow her subjects to see her as she was, rather than the frumpy brutish creature they might expect to see after reading the newspapers.

The crowd gathered there was as sizable as she'd been warned, consisting of many men in suits and ties, though there were a few women sprinkled throughout, dressed in formal dresses or gowns. The Princess recognized a few of them from the Grand Galloping Gala, others from newspapers or magazines, but most were unknown to her. Upon seeing her, all gradually bowed their heads in respect, though a few hesitated longer than perhaps they should've. It was only then that Orzel realized she'd made an error, a fairly major one at that... She'd needed to review the list of those coming before her to have a basic idea of what to expect, but in the midst of her meditative seclusion it completely slipped her mind. Pausing briefly, she gestured for Grim to lean down. The man of course did so, allowing Orzel to whisper into his ear.

"I require your assistance." She stated simply, gesturing towards the crowd. "I did not read the list of petitioners before my arrival, may I ask that you announce their names and purpose upon entrance?" Grim nodded at the request, and with that Orzel quietly strolled through the room, her two behemoth body guards never too far behind, until she reached the doors leading into the throne room. Two guards standing there, adorned in ceremonial armor, snapped sharp salutes before opening the doors and allowing her entry... Grim and Fable, meanwhile, remained behind to address the crowd and inform them of the basic decorum expected of all of them. This was court, after all.

Orzel's journey towards the thrones was a quiet one, and she passed the statuesque palatial guards silently, taking a few brief moments to bask in the beauty of the room... The length of the throne room defied reason, except perhaps if it was intended to house a large number of people. That was generally what Orzel thought of when it came to a 'Royal Court', complete with noble lords and ladies, diplomats and jesters... The Emperor's court was rumored to number in the hundreds, by comparison. She supposed she really didn't need all those people to bother her or test her patience.

Therefore, the only purpose she could see the immensity of the throne room serving was to make those passing through it feel small in size... Orzel didn't really need help on that front, of course. As it happened, her interrupted Elemental Transformation actually cost her several precious inches in height, leaving her at a miniscule four feet ten inches... Shorter than she'd been upon her first arrival to Equestria.

After several minutes of walking she finally ascended the steps and stood before the Obsidian Throne. Specifically designed for Luna's amazonian frame, the skilfully sculpted chair loomed like the cavernous jaw of a giant beast, its intricately carved and polished black surface glinting in the lights above. The girl paused for only a moment before taking her place upon the dark leather cushions, albeit with only slight difficulty. Her feet wouldn't have even touched the ground, if not for the addition of a small wooden step. Perhaps her height wasn't so trivial after all... She looked briefly at Aunt Celestia's throne. The brilliant marble structure was even bigger, but then again, so was Aunt Celestia...

"Presenting Lord Jet Set, Renowned Merchant of Canterlot and his wife Lady Upper Crust of the Equestrian Education Association! They seek further restitution from the Crown for damages accrued during the recent crisis!" Grim's booming voice quickly drew Orzel's attention back to the throne room proper...

Meanwhile, Midnight soundlessly scampered down from Orzel's shoulder to rest in one of her palms, allowing the girl to peacefully stroke the mouse's head with her thumb. Two colorfully dressed figures were quickly approaching along the great length of the throne room, and even with the aid of her spectacles Orzel needed to squint for a few moments to see them approaching from such a distance.

Eventually Jet Set and Upper Crust stopped at the steps before the Obsidian Throne, offering only the briefest of bows. Jet Set's angular features reminded Orzel of a lobster she'd once seen in the Cesarski fish market, the beady eyes behind his spectacles especially adding to the illusion. As Orzel recalled, that particular lobster wound up giving her the worst case of food poisoning she'd ever endured... Upper Crust was hardly comparable to a crustacean, Orzel might've actually found her somewhat pretty, if she didn't know what lurked beneath the surface.

These were people that at one time called her 'frumpy' and 'brutish', a position she suspected they still maintained. At least they were dressed with an appropriate level of decorum, their hair likewise styled to near perfection. The Princess also couldn't help but note that both wore the eight-pointed sun pins of the Noble party... Then again, Orzel expected no less at this point, the party lines were already being drawn in the sand. She presented only the cold stoic mask on which she labored so intensively, this would need to be her best performance yet.

"Your Highness..." The man stopped himself, likely realizing he'd made a mistake. Where usually 'Highness' was the appropriate term, as Orzel was acting as monarch until Luna's return, Equestrian dictated a different term. "I mean... Your Majesty, what an honor it is to come before the Crown, especially in our great time of need." Jet Set brought a hand to his chest. "My wife and I are delighted that it is you that will be hearing our case, we've heard many tales of your benevolence." It was with herculean effort that Orzel kept herself from rolling her eyes...

"Our home was greatly disrupted by the recent unrest brought on by the Chaos Wave, and as a result many of our prized possessions were damaged or stolen." The man reached into his suit pocket and withdrew a folded slip of paper. "The aid offered by the Crown, while certainly helpful, hardly covers the true extent..." Once again Orzel inwardly sighed. Sometimes she hated being right. "Here is our request, may I approach, your magnificence?" The Princess offered the barest of nods, watching the man carefully as he ascended the steps before the Obsidian Throne. With her free hand Orzel took the page, as her other was still occupied by the fuzzy black mouse, which Jet Set regarded with obvious disgust.

"Leave us, Midnight..." Orzel commanded, and in a puff of black vapor the mouse vanished entirely from her palm, apparently to the surprise and evident relief of Jet Set. "You may return to your wife while We examine the damages, according your estimation..." The Princess hummed quietly, unfolding the paper and examining its contents. She spotted several instances of broken windows, a metal gate that was bent by rioters, all of which seemed to be in order... These, however, didn't make up the bulk of the claims, nor were they even the most expensive items on the assessment. "Can you describe the 'Ceramic Landscape Ornamentation' in greater detail?" Jet Set nodded with a grin that Orzel couldn't quite describe, some unnatural combination between nervousness and arrogance, if such a thing existed.

"Yes, they're ornaments for our estate's landscaping, made of ceramic. It's in the name, understandable that you wouldn't know that..." He explained simply, as if that was the end of it. It wasn't, not by a long shot. The name hardly described just what sort of ornamentation these things actually were, and it certainly didn't explain why one was listed as costing more than three-thousand Bits. Orzel merely stared at Jet Set, her silence and unwavering mask insisting that he go into further detail.

"If we cannot secure the Bits we require from the Crown, we will have no choice but to raise the rents of our tenants to cover our losses." He added with a fairly good approximation of genuine remorse. "It will have to be a hefty increase if we are to break even." Jet Set didn't care that the Princess wanted further detail, he'd gone right for the bottom line... Either the Crown paid him, or he and his wife would make life difficult for their tenants. "We would be well within our rights, of course, according to the agreements they signed... We would prefer not to do so, however, as I doubt many would be able to afford it... The Crown would therefore be doing them a service as well."

His smile became more predatory, the veiled intentions now far more clear. Orzel got the distinct impression that Jet Set wouldn't be coming to the Crown from the same angle if Luna or Celestia were presiding over that evening's court. He was trying to play on her emotions, on the fear that she'd be responsible for people losing their homes... What was more, Orzel was more than certain that if given the chance, Jet Set would make good on his threat. The girl steepled her fingers as a surge of outrage briefly manifested itself within...

In that man's beady little eyes she saw more than greed, she saw Agent Zhelezo, or at the very least the type of 'man' Zhelezo was. The sort that would show no mercy, that'd kick someone while they were down, gouge them for all that they were worth, because he felt himself above them... Yes, Mister Jet Set would've fit right in at the MIS... Orzel knew she wasn't being rational, that she was letting her earlier thoughts influence her judgment, but remaining impartial was... Difficult.

Those images still lingered at the edges of her mind, throbbing constantly like a torn open wound. The vivid memory of the wrenching hand that made her feel so helpless, that threatened and belittled her, was still freshly seared into her skull. In but a few moments outrage turned to just plain rage. She wanted to have this man thrown out, to decline him then and there and send him on his way, but that wouldn't be fair... She couldn't allow her own personal issues to guide her on issues of policy... The mounting fury was quickly restrained, forced back into its cage where it belonged, all while the Princess's stoney visage remained undisturbed.

"The Crown is more than familiar with the common structuring of your 'agreements', Mister Jet Set." Orzel stated flatly, narrowing her eyes on the grinning man. "We are also familiar with the success rate of those agreements in arbitration, or lack thereof..." Jet Set's grin faded considerably, and Orzel could see indignation burning behind his fractured mask of affability. "Let us set aside for the moment that fact. You have yet to answer Our earlier question, and describe to Us the nature of these 'Ceramic Landscape Ornaments'. What makes them so valuable?" The girl folded her hands in her lap, looking more intently at the man.

"W-What makes them valuable? Well, it's not as if you'd understand-" Jet Set stammered, but Orzel struck the man with a stoic scowl of the sort Mother would've been proud of, letting the man know that he'd reached the end of her patience. "Fine, I shall simplify it so that even you can understand..." He scowled sourly, looking over at his wife for a moment, then back at the Princess. "They're generally figurines, jovial depictions of craftsmen, laborers, and artisans... People of stature, such as yourself. Some of them are small, but others are taller than I am." Orzel nodded quietly, imagining such figurines in her mind...

It struck her as odd that such statues would be made from ceramic, rather than bronze or copper, then again she didn't know much about lawn ornamentation. She'd seen the little gnomes that occasionally found a home in the Castle gardens. They too were jolly looking figures, with adorable little pickaxes and hammers. She actually rather liked them, they were cute, especially with their little red hats and big bushy beards. There big soulful eyes reminded her of her stuffed bear Wojtek. Some even had little pipes, or easels and paint brushes...

Orzel's features would've lost all emotion in a sudden moment of realization, gradually giving way to two pursed lips and very narrow eyes. The expression itself was painful, as the fangs that lingered from her near transformation dug into her skin. Fortunately her skin was 'thicker' now, or at least far more difficult to puncture, so no blood was drawn.

"Would We be correct in assuming that these Ceramic Landscaping Ornaments you describe are, in fact, garden gnomes?" Orzel asked bluntly, leaning back in the throne and placing both arms on the armrests. Jet Set looked once more at his wife, then nodded with obvious frustration. "People of stature, such as myself..." The girl repeated with a humorless chuckle, shaking her head as she took a deep breath and called upon her earlier mantras to give her strength. "You are extorting the Crown to compensate you for broken garden gnomes?" Upper Crust raised her hand, as if attempting to clarify the situation.

"Perhaps we've come at an inopportune time." She stated, taking on a mollifying tone. "Really, forget we brought it up at all! We'll just come back in a few days when the Real Princesses have returned..." Orzel's searing gaze turned from Jet Set to Upper Crust, and once again the Princess silently repeated her mantra, ensuring the monster of wrath remained confined for the moment. "It can't be helped you don't understanding the importance of our problem, you aren't an Equestrian after all, you don't understand just how important proper lawn care is to us." This was exactly the sort of thing Orzel meditated for, and she was thankful for that fact, as otherwise she might've lost her temper. Such slights were beneath her notice... "If our plea should fail, we have our tenants to fall back upon."

The girl tapped her fingers on the armrest, recalling just what these two mentioned their plans were in the event their 'request' was denied. Personal grievances Orzel could forget, if not forgive, but the veiled threat towards her subjects was another matter entirely. The housing market in Canterlot was a dicey one, and as Orzel understood it, there were plenty of people that would not only be able to pay that new rent, but who were also eager to move into the homes of those who couldn't. Jet Set and his wife could evict half their tenants and have all the units filled in the span of a month or so... There was no guarantee that wasn't what would happen anyway, even if they convinced Luna or Celestia to pay them.

Orzel suspected this was also likely about more than garden gnomes, or even the tenants for that matter. Arrogant as it sounded, the Princess suspected this was very much about her. If she gave into their demands she'd be signaling to the Nobles and the Black Crowns that she was weak. If she waited for Luna and Celestia to return she'd come off as indecisive, and that risked jeopardizing her authority, leaving her looking like someone just there to keep the Throne warm. Technically accurate, but detrimental to her future prospects regardless. If she denied the request, Jet Set and Upper Crust would raise the rent and then blame it on her inexperience and unwillingness to compromise, which would likely accomplish the former two outcomes, albeit to a lesser extent.

Even if all the cases were brought to arbitration, it'd cost the Crown more money to pay for said arbitrators than to pay for the ludicrously expensive garden gnomes, and even if all the agreements were thrown out, by the time it was finished new tenants would already have been moved in. So... What options did that leave the young Princess...

"You said you will raise your tenants rent to extreme levels, and by extension evict said tenants if your request is not met, is that correct?" Orzel countered stoically, pointing directly at Jet Set, not once flinching. Jet Set nodded, smiling that smug smile of his, and very briefly the Princess considered denying his request then and there...

Instead she remained calm, looking about the throne room quietly. This shouldn't have been her fight... Luna and Celestia would know what to do. Even so, in a scenario where they were never coming back, Orzel would be expected to handle it on her own.

"Your requested sum is non-negotiable?" The Princess confirmed, once again Jet Set nodded, so the girl lowered her arm back to the armrest, taking on the implacable aspect of Obsidian itself. "Would you come before Princess Celestia or Luna with such a demand... Or is it because I am not a 'real' Princess that you thought you could pull off this obvious attempt at extortion? Was it arrogance or foolishness..." Both Upper Crust and Jet Set lost any semblance of decorum, as Orzel expected.

"It's your word against ours, you little brat." Upper Crust snapped, pointing a trembling finger at Orzel. "There's no one here that can back you up. None of your guards are close enough to have heard anything we said." The Princess briefly considered that point, or rather lack thereof... One of the effects of having such a large and open stone space, a benefit in this respect, was that sound tended to travel... In all likelihood, even Grim was listening in at the other end of the room. "The Princesses won't be back for a day or so, plenty of time for us to ruin you in the press, especially with the talk we've heard of the animal you really are... So I suggest you do as your betters tell you and sign the damn paper."

Orzel couldn't describe her exact feelings in that moment... Outrage, fear, trepidation, anxiety, anger... The cauldron of emotional magma was stirring to life, and the Princess wasn't sure if her meager experience in meditation would be able to avert the imminent violent eruption. In a manner of speaking, she was managing well enough, because from an outward glance it was impossible to visualize the fury fighting to break loose from its cage. The girl took a deep breath through her nose and closed her eyes, ignoring her two hostile petitioners for a moment. She was in control, and wouldn't give the two troglodytes before her the satisfaction of witnessing the inferno they'd wrought.

"Do you share the feelings of your spouse, Mister Jet Set?" Orzel returned her gaze back to the man, though both 'Nobles' seemed utterly gobsmacked that they hadn't gotten a reaction out of her. They were about to, just not the one they'd been hoping for. Jet Set nodded firmly, puffing out his chest in what he likely assumed to be his moment of triumph. "Good, We would hate to break up a couple." The two of them looked at one another in obvious confusion, then back at Orzel with increasing hostility.

"The Crown has shown great leniency towards similar behavior in the past, and so We are unsurprised you believe that it must endure such impudence. You will find that is not true of my court..." Orzel shook her head, then snapped her fingers. "The Crown finds both Lord Jet Set and Lady Upper Crust to be in contempt of court. They will be detained for a period of no less than seven days at the Canterlot County Jail, in addition, each shall be fined in the amount of five-thousand Bits." The words were calm, but boomed from her diminutive frame to reach the ears of every person in the cavernous hall. "Take them away."

In a matter of moments two Lunar Marines stepped forth from their posts, quickly closing on Jet Set and Upper Crust, both of whom seemed so utterly stunned at the Princess's pronouncement that they didn't think to start resisting until they'd already been handcuffed. Orzel watched with a mixture of satisfaction and concern... It was certainly gratifying to see two of her detractors removed on account of their behavior, and after having read so many novels, the idea of actually saying 'Take them away' in reality was likewise enjoyable...

What she'd done, however, once again felt... Disquietingly authoritarian. She supposed that was the nature of monarchies, and to some degree she accepted that, but... Then again, it wasn't as if she'd arrested an average citizen for saying something that she didn't agree with. Two petitioners came into Canterlot Castle, her court, her home, threatening, insulting, and demanding money from her... Over garden gnomes, of all things. It sounded like the sort of thing a raving lunatic might do, not two 'upstanding' members of Canterlot's upper society.

"We will have a twenty minute recess." Orzel called to Grim from the throne as she leaned back in her seat, ruminating on just what to do next. She needed a moment... "Please see to it that those next in line are informed." She added thoughtfully, and even at this distance she knew the looming figure at the edge of the throne room would heed her orders.

The girl closed her eyes and took another deep breath, quietly mumbling one of the Lexican ektanias... A brief session of meditation seemed appropriate after such an extreme start to her night. Orzel took solace in the statistical improbability that such an uncouth pair of petitioners would once again come before her, at least she'd gotten them out of the way early. Her breath and pulse slowed after several minutes, and with that came order. Through order she gained control, and from control came serenity... The chaotic emotions and memories, so fervently whipped into a frenzy, were brought gently to rest.

Typically reining in her feelings was a physically taxing and mentally violent affair, but... Not this time. Without the aid of the Hoard Slumber, Orzel was struggling to enter a deeper state of mind... Visions from her mind's eye appeared with far less frequency than before, flashing too briefly for her to get barely a glance. The oceans, the fields... The Monolith. She couldn't stop seeing it, and it instilled in her a sort of longing to discover just what it was, even if it proved to be little more than a manifestation of her imagination. Before she could approach it, however, she was drawn back to the waking world by the announced arrival of her next petitioner. How quickly twenty minutes came and went... It was time to get back to business.

Luna and Celestia sat within the train's dining car, joined by the newly revived Observos the Watchful. It wasn't the first time they'd met like this, but where those previous meetings were aimed at getting Observos up to speed on the new reality he faced, this meeting had a far more specific reason behind it. It was already decided that for him to reintegrate into society, he couldn't come back as 'Observos the Watchful'. It'd raise far too many questions that Equestria wasn't ready for, and conflict with the cover story already circulating through the press. So from the first meeting onwards, Observos the Watchful became known as Piercing Gaze... A talented practitioner of the Arcane Arts, aspiring author, with a degree in Pre and Early Equestrian history, as well as all the other details necessary to fabricate his new identity.

As for Piercing himself, the news still seemed so fantastical as to defy reality... Yet that reality was assured with every bellowing whistle of Luna's 'locomotive'. Aeroplanes, airships, steam engines, radios, moving pictures and most important of all, mass printing presses... Every innovation, every new piece of technology, filled his heart with a thrill beyond compare. As a man of science and scholarly pursuits, it'd been Piercing's fondest patriotic hope to create a nation where such miracles of magic and technology could flourish, a beacon of harmony and freedom, and flourish those ideals did...

There were many little things he didn't fully grasp as of yet, and a great many problems he'd faced in his day and age still apparently plagued Modern Equestria. No matter how many things changed, politics remained politics, and even if the particulars were different it all boiled down to three simple words... Us versus Them. Piercing supposed the finer details would all make sense once he had time to immerse himself in the nearest library, where he'd be able to read to his heart's content all the great discoveries of the past thousand years. Before he could ponder what that might entail, however, there was the matter of the ongoing meeting, a meeting he'd unfortunately ceased paying attention to.

"Piercing." Luna's abrupt urging of his new name took a moment to register, but he eventually shook himself out of his reverie and looked at her, eyebrow raised. "Please, you must pay attention. What I am about to tell you is exceptionally important." Piercing looked about the rest of the room, noting that Celestia displayed a similar look of intensity... That was another new change. Celestia was once as carefree as they came, and while she was still far less uptight than her sister, there was no denying a certain indescribable... Force. "The Crown is no longer confined to Celestia and myself. There is a Prince and two other Princesses that you will meet shortly after our return."

The man nodded simply at that, though he didn't see what all the fuss was about. It was only natural that others might be brought into the fold, he was honestly surprised the Crown wasn't considerably larger than it already was. Then again, to become a member of the Crown was an exceptionally difficult thing to pull off successfully if one wasn't an existing family member... He needed only to look at his own recent incarceration for evidence of that.

"Prince Blueblood's our distant cousin." Celestia explained further, leaning back in her cushy chair. "While typically that wouldn't alone qualify him for ascension, it did give me the excuse to do so... At the time, prospective heirs were minimal, and I feared a power vacuum should Nightmare Moon succeed in her return." She looked at Luna, who sheepishly glanced at the floor at the mention of Nightmare Moon, then back at Piercing. "You likely won't interact much with him at first... In essence, he serves as the Castle's Chief of Staff, so he's rather busy handling the duties of running the Castle itself, or otherwise dealing with the day to day complaints of the nobility."

"Next is Princess Cadence, an alicorn, my adopted niece." Celestia continued, and Piercing noted a distinct fondness that entered Celestia's entire being at that. Granted, the Celestia he knew tended to view everyone through the lens of a caring guardian, but given her new more reserved nature...? He couldn't say for certain as to why she was so fond of Cadence. "She's recently returned from Las Pegasus, and the extent of her authority is... Complicated." Piercing raised an eyebrow at that, but Celestia didn't seem inclined to go into further detail on that front. Fair enough, he'd just ask Luna later. "Cadence is mostly busy handling policy on a provincial level, especially now that we're moving towards a more simplified, less centralized model of governance. Think of her as a sort of... Prime Minister or Chancellor."

So far the Prince and Princess seemed fairly straightforward to Piercing, but when the two sisters looked at one another again, it became obvious that they were uncertain as to who should describe the last Princess... That in and of itself wouldn't have been so out of place, but add to that the slight fidgeting of Luna and the evidently insistent glance on the part of Celestia, and he got the distinct sense that the last Princess's primer would be... Complicated.

"That leaves Crown Princess Orzel..." Luna finally broke the silence, pursing her lips in obvious discomfort at the scenario. Hearing the name, Piercing gained a slightly better idea as to why.

Draconic Studies was one of his favored topics, and he'd delighted in tutoring Luna on the subject. 'Orzel' was a very un-Equestrian name... It originated from an ancient dialect of Draconic, Kwarczkie, at least if his memory served. Theirs was such a fascinating culture, he couldn't wait to see what scholars discovered about them in his absence. Regardless of the name's origin, he could only speculate as to why an Equestrian Princess would hold a Draconic name. Could it have been there was a war he hadn't heard about, and Equestria was forced to accept a Drake into the Crown as part of the peace treaty...? That seemed like the kind of compromise Celestia would be willing to make.

"She is the heir to the Obsidian Throne... My daughter." Piercing's thoughts of treaties and compromise came shrieking to a shuddering halt, his jaw slackening just a tad as Luna's admission sapped him of movement. So that was it, not the result of some treaty, unless this 'Orzel' was the result of a political marriage? No... Luna would never accept such an arrangement, which likely meant Luna had married a Drake... Not that there was anything wrong with that, but the longevity of Drakes likely precluded the chances of him and Luna being truly 'together' ever again, even if said Drake was now out of the picture.

"Daughter...? I... I see..." Orzel stammered almost uncontrollably, looking at the floor with his hands laced together. The thought of Luna having a child was striking on many levels... Why hadn't Luna mentioned her daughter or spouse sooner, unless she was trying to spare his feelings? She didn't need to do that, he thought she knew him well enough to realize as much, no matter how much the news stung at his weary heart. "I wouldn't have expected you to remain alone, after all, it's been a thousand years..." He trailed off. "You look great! I can't even tell you had a kid!" He shouldn't have said that, he knew as much, but his nerves were getting the better of him. Luna's face suddenly flushed with embarrassment and she quickly shook her head.

"No! No no no! Orzel is my adopted daughter!" The woman proclaimed steadfastly, putting a hand on Piercing's shoulder. The ache in his heart quickly evaporated into elation, so there was still a place for him at her side after all... Of course there was, she'd said as much when he first woke up! "She only came into my life rather recently, actually... I am just accustomed to the idea of not specifying that she is adopted." Piercing nodded quietly, drumming his fingers on the table, gradually unpacking the revelations.

Luna never seemed like the 'adoption' type, after all. They'd discussed her desire to have children many times, a desire that Piercing didn't necessarily share... It'd been one of the few sticking points of their relationship, and as such the subject of adoption never came up as a possibility. It wasn't that he didn't like children, they were fine... In theory. At least the older ones were. The idea of little versions of himself running around his laboratory or library, making a mess of things and generally putting themselves at risk, didn't fill him with confidence.

"Her story is an odd one... She is an adolescent Drake, specifically of a people known to us as the Kwarczkie, though if you must do so, she prefers to be referred to by the term 'Szafirian'." Luna continued, Piercing nodded again, pleased to at least hear his hunch about the name was correct. That she'd also specified that Orzel was an adolescent likewise assuaged his fears of having to deal with a screaming infant or rambunctious toddler, teenagers he could at least deal with... Well, yes, but actually no... Teenagers were an entirely different breed. Technically speaking he was still in his mid-thirties, thousand-year imprisonment not withstanding, so he knew fairly well what they could be like.

That wasn't nearly as important, however, as the revelation that this 'Princess Orzel' was supposedly a bonafide Kwarczkie. He'd encountered several descendants of their kind in his studies on the origins of Enchanting, though they were more evolutionary offshoots than actual Kwarczkie, well... Not really 'offshoots'. As with so many things with regards to Draconic history, it was... Well... Complicated. Gods, he hated that word. Even so, the prospect of meeting an actual living specimen opened so many possible paths for research into their remarkable past. He suspected many of the discoveries he'd make would be well known knowledge among Draconic Academia by now.

"Szafirian... Interesting." The man mumbled simply, rubbing at his chin. "My memory of them is fairly intact, I'll just need to consult my notes on the subject of their history. I have so many questions! Of course, I won't ask them unless you permit it, she's your daughter, after all..." Piercing noted that both sisters' demeanor became befuddled, which befuddled him in turn. "What?" The sisters looked at one another, communicating in that silent manner that he'd realized most siblings were capable of, before turning their attention back to him.

"The Kwarczkie are one of the most obscure and least understood Draconic Civilizations in history. I didn't even think books about them existed in Early Equestria, let alone that you would have notes on them." Celestia explained, and Piercing nearly laughed at the absurdity of that statement. She could be such a joker! Granted, the Kwarczkie weren't known by mainstream scholars, but almost entirely unknown? Hardly! "The earliest account we have on record is from approximately two hundred years ago."

Piercing rubbed at the bridge of his nose, shaking his head in utter disappointment. She wasn't joking... Dear Gods she wasn't joking! She was serious! The Kwarczkie were primarily studied by enchanters and alchemists, surely there had to be some new discovery made by the practitioners of those well respected fields in his absence. In a world with aeroplanes and radios, the study and understanding of the civilization that likely pioneered ancient enchanting as he and his colleagues knew it couldn't have actually gone backwards in understanding, could it?

"That can't be right, I spent the better part of a decade and a half curating artifacts, documents, and accounts of their written and oral history! I put it with all my files in my office in the library!" Piercing declared frustratedly, but the sisters looked at him with confusion. "Don't tell me you just... Abandoned the entire library in the Castle of the Two Sisters!" A bolt of further anger rushed through him as he received an apologetic nod from Celestia. Quickly he pulled himself together, now was no time to go losing his temper. "Assuming they weren't outright destroyed in your final battle, they should still be right where I left them... I had the foresight to ward them against aging, ironically for the benefit of scholars in the future." The man looked at Luna, his features softening. "Forgive me... I didn't mean to make this about my work. You have a daughter, a daughter you obviously love very much. I am just... Still processing that fact. Please, tell me more about her..."

Luna smiled sadly, and so she recounted the tale of her daughter's arrival to Equus... Both Princesses likewise explained to him the situation in the Szafirian Empire, before and up to the 'Fall of Cesarski'. What they described didn't seem to fit with the Kwarczkie of old, and as his memory of their culture gradually came to the forefront, it became evident to him that something must've gone terribly wrong after the Kwarczkie vanished from Equus to colonize their New World.

What was even more evident, however, was Luna's unmistakable love for her child. The way her eyes lit up when she'd describe how much progress Orzel was making in the field of enchanting was proof enough of the depth of her pride, yet Luna went beyond even that. It unfortunately also became apparent that what the Equestrian's knew of the ancient civilization was indeed but a fraction of the collected history Piercing and his fellows had uncovered through their studies prior his transformation.

He didn't interrupt the story except to ask the occasional question or for clarification, and after an hour or so, they'd caught him up on the basics of all the young Princess had endured. So it was that Piercing offered to shed further light on the subject of the Kwarczkie, for a myriad of reasons, including a few possible health concerns that Luna likely wasn't even aware of.

"The Kwarczkie were more than a civilization of warriors, though you know that already..." Piercing explained quietly, folding his hands into his lap. "All Drakes have evolved a hierarchy based on martial strength, but the Kwarczkie went beyond this. Where most of their contemporaries saw war as sort of 'force of nature', the Kwarczkie pursued war with an absolutely scientific discipline..." He looked at Luna, unable to conceal his own happiness to be speaking on a topic he seldom got to share with anyone but his now long dead colleagues. It was, after all, a rather esoteric field of study. "There's a very specific reason for there martial prowess, one that you should be made aware of." The woman raised an eyebrow, and Piercing knew he had the woman's full attention as she leaned closer.

"Tens of thousands of years ago, there was an ancient civilization of advanced magic users, named the Ahlikorinians. For brevity, I'll just call them the Ancient Ones." Piercing explained, looking at Luna and Celestia, searching for a sign of recognition in their eyes. The Ahlikorinians were often described as beings with three souls... Add to this the filter of phonetic syncope and it didn't take an expert linguist to realize the name was an archaic predecessor to the modern word 'Alicorn'. This realization thankfully seemed to click, as both sisters took on a brief look of astonishment. "Some time before the first century, they opened a portal to another realm in an effort to study it... What they found was a realm of utter blackness, filled with creatures of the vilest sort. In our time this realm was known as the semi-fictional 'Abyss'."

"Hordes of monstrous creatures spilled out of the Abyss, waging war against the Ancient Ones and threatening the world at large." Piercing continued, though he could see Luna wanted to know just what this had to do with her daughter, he was getting to it. "The Ancient Ones couldn't fight them on their own, as they were too few in numbers, so they sent emissaries to the other peoples of the world. Only one group agreed to join them, an at the time new but sizable clan of Drakes calling themselves Kwarczkie." Piercing stood from his seat and began pacing the floor, wishing desperately he had a chalkboard at the moment, if only to better lay out his thoughts. "Their size arose from their early development of disciplined tactics and strategy, making it easier for them to not only conquer territory, but to hold it... That they typically favored islands and coastal regions also aided in that respect, as once they were dug in it became virtually impossible to drive them out."

"In exchange for their military might, the Ancient Ones used a mixture of magic and advanced technology to accelerate aspects of the Kwarczkie physiology better suited to their 'Science of War' mentality." Piercing could see the gears starting to turn in Luna's head. While many aspects of Kwarczkie physiology were similar to their traditional Drake counterparts, there were several key differences that could prove problematic for those not properly informed, hence the prelude. "They were given superior intellect, strength, agility, and arcane power to rival that of the Ancient Ones. They were also innately gifted in the creation of enchantments and other contrivances, especially if such contrivances were intended for use as tools of war. Once again, for brevity's sake, I'll leave out some other enhanced traits that are of lesser importance." Piercing stopped beside a window, looking out at the darkness beyond, he could tell he had the sisters' full attention.

"As with all things, these traits came at a cost. Firstly, the Kwarczkie became hyper emotional and developed extreme protective instincts, even more so than typical Drakes. As a primarily island and coastal people, and lacking an 'inner flame', it became difficult for them to survive in even moderately cold inland regions. For some reason cold islands and coastal areas didn't share the same effect, we had a few theories but nothing solid as to why that was the case..." Piercing added with a slightly distant tone, returning to the table and taking a seat, trying once more to get comfortable as he launched ever onwards. "Anyway, their primary weakness, however, was spells intended to totally neutralize or suppress magic regeneration. While they'd be a nuisance to typical spell-casters such as you or I, they could temporarily cripple a Kwarczkie's ability to function, as their life force is intertwined with their magic... A strong enough suppression spell could even prove fatal."

The Princesses listened intently as Piercing continued to recount the story of the Kwarczkie, as he remembered it at least. Gradually through conquest and other means their numbers grew, and with their vastly expanded intellect they constructed great weapons of war, which they turned against the forces of the Abyss. The forces of the Abyss in turn sought to copy the methods of the Ancient Ones, and so they began enhancing the abilities of an enclave of insect-like humanoids, the Shen'ga'leen... Proto-Changelings. That they fed on emotions, something the Kwarczkie had in great abundance, further endeared the Shen'ga'leen to the Abyss... At least until it became evident that the extreme anger and hostility often felt by the Kwarczkie was ultimately toxic to their early test subjects.

There was a lot of work that needed to be done if the Abyss was ever to match the Ancient Ones in the martial prowess of its uplifted armies, but Shen'ga'leen were easier to control, and so the race was on for the Ancient Ones to defeat the Abyss before work on the first true Changeling Hive could be completed. They failed to meet that goal, but only slightly, and eventually the Ancient Ones prevailed, sealing the portal to the Abyss once and for all. That of course didn't prevent cults and other shadowy organizations from attempting to reopen that portal, or to bring beings of the Abyss into the world, but the bulk of the fighting was over. This marked the beginning of what most societies called 'The Great Awakening', when the war weary world sought to set aside the tribulations of the past and looked towards the future.

With their population vastly depleted by the war, the Ancient Ones sought to pass their legacy and knowledge to their faithful allies, the Kwarczkie, which many considered their children. Neither would ever get that chance. Not long after the end of the war, for reasons still unknown, the Ancient Ones came under attack from various clans of Drakes. Speculation suggested it was out of jealousy, or a search for enhancements like those granted to the Kwarczkie. This marked the end of the Ancient Ones as a civilization, with many using their magic to flee to parts unknown. A handful, however, opted to stand beside the Kwarczkie, who now stood alone against the other dragon clans...

"With their forces already depleted after centuries of warfare with the Abyss, and casualties climbing into the millions, the Kwarczkie could only fight a bitter war of defense, until they were finally forced back to their last island holding." Piercing stated darkly, even with the clatter of the wheels he could've sworn he heard a pin drop. "At the climax of the final battle, their remaining army and the two Ancient Ones leading it, Legate Vindas and Legate Sekari, vanished in a flash of light."

"They also took with them a sizable chunk of Clan Red-Flame's forces, specifically their most veteran soldiers. Lord Pyrite the Liar was fearful that the Kwarczkie might one day return, so he ordered all traces of their existence destroyed to deny them any 'Ancestral Rights' they might've retained for certain territories, this included the wholesale slaughter of POWs and refugees." Celestia raised an eyebrow at that, she likely wasn't familiar with the most fundamental code of ethics by which Dragon Society functioned on. "For a myriad of reasons, Clan Red-Flame was subsequently invaded by its former allies, specifically after it was discovered that Lord Pyrite willfully violated the 'Kodeks Zavoyevaniya'... Translated it means the 'Code of Conquest', a list of rules to be followed in times of war and the subsequent occupation of conquered peoples. With its veteran core depleted, Red-Flame only managed to prevail, ironically, by adopting tactics similar to those used by the Kwarczkie."

Piercing looked once more at Luna, who was watching him with rapt fascination. He'd missed that look. He was honestly fascinated by the story himself, especially now with the benefit of knowing what happened to that final legion of warriors. Recounting the tale got him thinking about what he'd learned of the 'Szafirian Empire'... Hundreds of years of constantly waging a war that was impossible to win likely left quite an impression on those who survived.

Such a traumatic experience had to have some formative effect on any culture that sprang from it, and so the Szafirians had become so utterly autocratic and militaristic as to make their Kwarczkie ancestors almost look like anarchists by comparison. All in an effort to ensure that nothing would ever again menace their survival. The loss of Cesarski at the hands of what appeared to be their world's version of the Shen'ga'leen had to be the cruelest form of irony...

"That wasn't the end of their story, however. According to several ancient religious texts, an enclave of Kwarczkie departed for the Western Unknown under the leadership of Lexicos, the Ancient One responsible for the spells that enhanced the Kwarczkie. She's since become the Goddess of Knowledge in the Draconic pantheon." As with the 'Code of Conquest', Piercing could've gone on for hours about the Lexican Orthodoxy as well, as he found many of their core beliefs to be remarkably ahead of their time, further evidence that perhaps the Kwarczkie had something to do with its founding. Celestia raised a hand, and on professorial instinct Piercing nodded towards her.

"If all records were ordered destroyed, and we know that those orders were almost entirely successful, how did you figure all this out?" She asked with genuine curiosity, and this was where Piercing found himself unsure of how to respond. He could come out and say that he'd gotten these accounts from first hand witnesses, Ancient Ones who witnessed with their own eyes the valiant armies of the Kwarczkie marching headlong into the ceaseless meat grinder, eventually to be slaughtered in honorable defeat, but... Those Ancient Ones likely didn't want their involvement disclosed to anyone, especially Luna and Celestia.

Even so, his sources had been gone for over a thousand years... That said, he'd already given the two of them a lot to take in, best to save that tidbit for later. Even with those accounts, the truth would likely never be fully known, especially given the nature of Celestia's question. It'd been a turbulent time in the world's history, and Piercing wondered if maybe, that was the true reason the leaders of Red-Flame goaded the other Clans into turning on the Kwarczkie and the Ancient Ones as they did... To erase any trace of those darkest of days and begin the world anew, free of the lingering wounds left by the war with the Abyss. That, unfortunately, wasn't the answer to Celestia's question however...

"I interviewed several Ancient Ones, some of the last to leave the Kwarczkie." Piercing explained simply, looking once more at the window as he noted that the train was ascending a gradually steepening grade. That was to be expected, as they were beginning the final climb of the Canterhorn itself, and would soon make their stop in Canterlot. "How I know doesn't really matter. What matters is that a Kwarczkie in Equestria might find life difficult for a myriad of reasons, especially on an inland mountain when winter comes." Luna nodded reluctantly, looking at the table with a considerable amount of uncertainty in her eyes.

"Equestria has plenty of coastal and island territories." Celestia assured her sister, which earned a small smile of relief from the younger Princess. "We can start having preparations made immediately." It was Piercing's turn to raise an eyebrow. So long as the Castle was heated, which seemed the likely outcome, there wasn't anything for Princess Orzel to fear... She just couldn't go for any long walks outside without proper clothing. Then again, Luna naturally worried about everything, and her daughter's health had to be at the top of that list... Keeping a Drake cooped up in a confined space for an extended period of time was also a recipe for disaster, especially given the historically volatile temperaments of the Kwarczkie... Or 'Szafirian', as the girl preferred.

It was at this time that the locomotive emitted a long drawn out bellow from its whistle, and the gradually steepening grade returned to level. Piercing cast a look out the window, they were passing through the outer limits of Canterlot... Gone was the blackness of wilderness, replaced by dimly lit houses and streets, not all that different from his own time period at a glance. The difference was that it was electricity illuminating these houses and streets, which had strange boxy machines that scooted about the cobblestones with headlights and taillight aglow. The train tracks were likewise illuminated, revealing that the train was passing through some massive cluster steel rails and wooden ties... Many trains sat idle on their sidings, others plodded along like disparate beasts of burden, their chuffing pistons and headlights adding to the overall eeriness of the utilitarian rail yard...

Eventually the train came to a creep, bell ringing and whistle blaring, leaving its meandering brethren well in its wake. By now Piercing could feel every echoing rumble of the locomotive's mighty heart in his own chest. A tremendous blast erupted from the whistle one final time, accompanying the train's final screeching halt. The bell continued ringing forth the trains arrival, clanging away for a good ten or twenty seconds before it too fell silent. That left only the hiss of steam, which billowed and plumed beyond the windows, obscuring any view of what might lay outside. The man looked back at the two Princesses, both of whom were scooting out their chairs and stretching. Despite the seriousness of their earlier conversation, it seemed the two looked to be in remarkably high spirits.

"I appreciate what you have told us, Piercing..." Luna stated, offering her hand and helping the man to stand. She looked him over appraisingly, then adjusted the lapels of his black suit, then the tie, which seemed a bit tight if Piercing was being honest. The outfit looked absolutely ridiculous, and didn't fit all that well, primarily because it'd been supplied by Director Orcus. "We are going to need to get you to a tailor once we have found you some suits you like... I think pinstripes might look rather good on you." Piercing raised an eyebrow, he didn't really know what that meant, and this earned a slight chuckle from Celestia.

"He looks fine for now." Celestia admonished, walking to a section of hooks mounted to the wall near one of the car's doors. There she grabbed a white woolen overcoat, which sat beside one of similar make, albeit in navy blue. The door abruptly opened, allowing a man dressed in a far better looking suit than Piercing's to enter. He said not a word, simply handing a folded piece of paper to Celestia and apparently waiting for her response. Curiously the Princess opened the note, her eyes darting over the page. "Luna...?" Luna quickly joined her sister, leaving Piercing's lapels as they were. She too read the note, and unlike Celestia, the woman's eyes narrowed. Vigorously she bit down on her lower lip... Piercing had seen that look once or twice before, typically before Luna lost her temper...

"An animal...?" Luna stated aloud, her grip tightening on the paper to such an extent that it seemed close to being torn in half. "They called my daughter an animal!" Piercing was honestly taken aback by that declaration, as he couldn't imagine who might've done such a thing.

"As far as Orzel is concerned, from what I am reading here, she was well within her rights to do what she did." Celestia seemed remarkably unsurprised by the note, and while on the surface she was far less angry, there was a definite bite in her tone. "The Nobles were going to push back against her, we knew that before we left. A play like this was bound to happen eventually, let's not get bent out of shape here." Once again her words were calm, and thankfully they seemed to have the intended effect of reducing Luna's rolling boil to a seething simmer.

"I do not know what to say anymore, Sister... I am... Beyond words." Luna mumbled tiredly, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I am certain the press will have a field day with this, regardless of whether she was within her rights or not." She put her hands on her hips, looking at the messenger and nodding to him. "You are dismissed." The man nodded and quickly left the car. "I have to wonder what goes through their heads..." Luna crumpled up the note and tossed it in a wastepaper basket, then grabbed her coat. "Forget it... I just need to get home and see her." She looked at Piercing. "Come along. I am sorry to say we have little time for sight seeing."

"Of course..." Piercing nodded amicably, approaching the door and grabbing his own ill sized overcoat from the hook. Together the trio stepped out of the train, onto a great platform of concrete. Towering pillars of matte painted metal jutted up several stories, joining rafters and open skylights, through which the smoke of the locomotive was being vented. Then there was the locomotive itself, the greatest monument to all of Equestria's achievements Piercing had seen so far. Steam gushed and inky black smog vented skywards, truly there was no better comparison to the iron polypheme than that of a dragon in mechanical form.

Several men in what he now knew were Lunar Marine fatigues were examining the locomotive, illuminating gloomy sections of it with their electronic torches, while a man in a black suit and tie quietly approached. The pale skin and dark spectacles revealed him quickly to be Director Orcus, the man whom had loaned Piercing one of his suits, though he himself dressed in another identical suit and tie. The man was far smaller than Piercing recalled, and barely resembled his old friend in appearance. In his day Legate Orcus was a Giant, a type of Thestral rather rare to Equestria, so to see him even at an average height was unnerving. There was probably some elaborate reason for it, but Piercing wasn't about to ask.

"Welcome..." Orcus began before adding a slight dramatic flourish. "To the future!" Piercing couldn't help a small smile at that, especially coming from a man with such an intensely dour posture about him. It wasn't the first time they'd seen each other since Piercing's return, but they'd not had a moment to really talk... It was looking like this wasn't one of those times either, as Luna and Celestia were quickly moving towards what appeared to be an exit, discussing whatever it was that Orzel was 'in her rights' to do. Both men quickly moved to keep up with the Princesses, falling in beside one another... Something they'd not done in quite a long time, and yet to Piercing the last time they'd spoken didn't feel all that long ago. He supposed he'd just have to get used to that sensation.

"It's really something to behold..." Orcus declared as the two of them stepped through the door, out onto a large sloping plaza staircase that stretched down to the sidewalk of a cobblestone street. The city that lay before him was perhaps the greatest shock he'd ever endured in his entire life, and rapidly replaced the impressive might of the locomotive as Equestria's greatest monument.

Cyclopean structures of glittering glass and steel towered to graze the very fabric of the heavens themselves, their surfaces dotted with hundreds of yellow glowing windows. Dull pulsing red lights marked their apex against the starry night sky, far higher than Piercing would've imagined possible. There were smaller buildings of course, and it seemed there were several of the titanic sky scrapers still under construction nearby. They all had the most peculiar sort of aesthetic to them, some reminiscent of the architecture popular during his day, while others leaned more towards the artistic and decorative. The automobiles were just as sleek as the people that drove them, puttering along even despite the late hour. Many were painted in ostentatious yellow with an odd checker-board pattern as livery.

A quartet of black four door automobiles were parked at the base of the steps, and Piercing noted that they seemed to hug a little closer to the ground than other similar models. A pair of miniature Equestrian flags were mounted at the front, as well as an odd statuette of a structure that looked vaguely like a small castle tower. They weren't alone, half a dozen vehicles of far sturdier build also accompanied them, as well as a cadre of smaller two wheeled contraptions. These vehicles were painted rather similarly to the color of an olive, each boasting bright blue strobing electronic lights. Luna and Celestia seemed set on the first of the black automobiles, and Orcus seemed intent on going there as well, so Piercing readily followed.

"So... Is this all for me?" Piercing asked, tucking his hands into his pockets as he examined the vehicle up close. The doors seemed inordinately thicker than they should've been, the windows as well, especially compared to some of their checkered counterparts that scooted past, all of which were giving the whole convoy a wide berth.

"Sort of..." Orcus admitted, taking an odd paper packet from his coat and withdrawing one of the strange paper tubes recalled from his first moments back. Tucking the tube into his mouth, Orcus withdrew an equally odd rectangle of metal, half as big as a playing card. It evidently opened on a hinge, and when Orcus flicked a small metal wheel Piercing was amazed to see a miniature flame appear from a small shower of sparks... Even fire-starters had come so far...

"Chaos Wave still has folks in Canterlot on edge, so we decided forgo the traditional horse-carriage." Touching the flame to the end of the paper tube, Orcus took a slow steady inhale and flicked the fire-starter shut... Wisps of gray smoke quickly assailed Piercing's nose, a smell he was already slightly familiar with, revealing the tube to be some sort of tobacco product. Piercing started towards the automobile, where a man in a suit stood holding the rear door open, but Orcus abruptly stepped in front of him. "Hold on a second... I'll send him right in." Piercing put his hands on his hips, shaking his head as Orcus offered him one of the smoking tubes.

"You need to remember that folks aren't ready for a man out of time quite yet." Orcus stated bluntly, putting a hand on Piercing's shoulder and taking him off to the side for a moment. "It's a lot of glitz and glamor, but you scratch the surface and some of these people are just like they were back in the day. If you're different, even a little bit, they'll sniff you out just like that." The Director snapped his fingers, taking a long puff on the tube. "Then they'll come after you like wild dogs... Don't believe me? Just ask Luna, or her daughter." Piercing scowled, glancing over at the car, then back to Orcus, whose expression remained stoic. "That's not to say they're all bad, but the folks in this city...?" The man shook his head again.

"Now, I don't want to argue about what happened back then, Piercing. What's done is done. What matters is you're here now, and Equestria still needs you." The Director added, sighing as the two stopped a few feet from the automobile. "Look, I'll brief you in a week or so, after you've had time to get your bearings. Try to get into character, make the name 'Piercing Gaze' your own! If that doesn't work, we can always fake your death and start again." With that half-joking suggestion, he patted Piercing on the back and gestured to the open car. "Now, go on and spend some time with your Princess. There's not enough room for both of us anyway." Piercing looked over at the car, sure that there was still plenty of room for Orcus as well, only to be faced with nothing but empty air and dissipating smoke when he turned his head...

"I hate it when he does that..." Piercing muttered while he awkwardly climbed into the backseat of the automobile, finding himself forced to sit between both Luna and Celestia. It wasn't an altogether unpleasant arrangement, the cabin was indeed quite spacious, but he couldn't help feeling a tad... Out of place. Both Princesses, being alicorns, were significantly larger in almost all respects. Matters weren't helped when Luna put her arm around him, pulling him up against her side, holding him with a surprisingly strong grip. "Uh... Lu?" He asked, glancing up at the Princess. "I'm a tad snug." He was suddenly jolted by the automobile abruptly lurching forward, the driver taking it out into the street behind the flashing lights of the vehicle ahead.

"Sorry, dear..." Luna offered absentmindedly, loosening her grasp but not relinquishing it completely. The scenery of the city was far more interesting than that of the train. Every shop, every lit up theater and 'billboard', was a feast for his eyes.

At least, it would've been, if not for the fact that over the course of just a few minutes Luna was once more holding Piercing with now trembling arms. The man bit his lip when he spotted tears streaking down her cheeks, despite her silence and otherwise calm demeanor. He was struck dumb... He'd only seen her cry twice. Firstly upon the anniversary of her Parents' deaths, and then in the wake of the news that the Tribal Council ruled against their relationship. The woman suddenly hugged him fully, pulling him against her chest and leaning her head against his.

"It is just... I never thought you would get to see what we built, and now here you are... Alive." She whispered with a voice like shattering glass. Enveloped in the starry strands of her ethereal hair, Piercing could hear the nigh indomitable Princess Luna begin to openly sob. "Promise me you will never do something so foolish again! Promise me you will not leave me to go on alone..." With those words any fog of confusion evaporated, and Piercing was man enough to admit hearing the pleading in her voice broke him on some level.

"Never again, I swear..." Piercing promised while doing the only thing he felt he could, wrapping his own arms around the woman and holding her as tightly as his atrophied muscles could bear. No matter what happened, no matter what changes might've taken place, she'd remained his Princess for more than a thousand years... Gods willing, she'd remain his for a thousand more.

Luna and Piercing found themselves standing in front of the recently installed blast door to Orzel's tower, and the Princess had to admit she was impressed at the girl's apparent resourcefulness in procuring it. Given the revelations recently provided by Piercing, Luna wouldn't have been surprised to learn the girl did the majority of the enchanting work herself. The level of protection afforded by the door, coupled with the protective runes lining its face, made clear that Orzel was not keen on unexpected visitors. Regardless of the late hour, whether the teen wanted to be left alone or not, Luna was intent on seeing her, if only to just poke her head in and ensure the girl was sleeping soundly.

The look on Piercing's face told her, however, that breaching the new defenses might be easier said than done. He was far better versed in the field of enchanting than even Luna, having studied under Starswirl the Bearded, so she trusted his judgment in that respect. The man was quietly examining one of the strings of runes, written in an odd form of script that Luna recognized as a derivative of Szafirian, the same derivative that accompanied many of the enchantments on Orzel's family sword. Silent as he might of been, Luna could see Piercing was giddy with fascination.

"The characters have a few stylistic alterations, but it seems that typical linguistic syncope has been limited..." Piercing mumbled aloud, idly reaching to his waist... Typically, at least a thousand years ago, that was where he'd be wearing a belt with a small array of various pouches. In this case Luna realized he was reaching to the point where he tended to keep a notebook. "Strictly regimented, controlled, but... I see more general draconic influences as well."

"As I said, accounts of the Final Battle indicate that a lot of Lord Pyrite's veteran troops were unintentionally whisked away, so that isn't unexpected..." Piercing placed his hand on the painted metal surface. "They would've been leaderless, I've no doubt the Kwarczkie could defeat them in that state, but... I should think Legate Vindas would spare them. They were enemies, but on another planet I've no doubt any able bodies would prove useful." He paused for a moment, looking over his shoulder at Luna. "What was it you called those 'enforcer' types? The Missies?" He patted at his waist again, at least until it must've dawned on him that he was without a writing implement.

"The MIS... Ministry of Internal Security." Luna corrected, unable to keep from spitting the name, as it left a bad taste in her mouth. Piercing nodded quietly, pursing his lips. "The way Orzel describes them, they were all of the Noble Caste. Widely responsible for maintaining the status quo, by any means necessary... And I do mean any means." The scholar put his hands on his hips, looking at the floor and exhaling a deep sigh.

"They would be suited for such a task..." He concluded darkly, gesturing to another string of runes. "The blending of the languages and the repressive nature of the Imperial regime leads me to suspect that somehow the balance of power between Kwarczkie and the remnants of Clan Red-Flame's enclave was twisted somehow. Their world lacked magic, without sufficient magic the Kwarczkie would be far weaker than here... It could explain the development of their Caste System to begin with." Piercing's disappointment and frustration was evident in his voice. "It wouldn't surprise me if the Szafirian Emperor wasn't Kwarczkie at all." With that he stepped back from the door, examining it more at a distance.

"An interesting theory, but I fail to see how it pertains to us opening the door." Luna added skeptically, Piercing turned to look at her with a raised eyebrow. "That is why we came here, remember?" He stared at her blankly, forcing Luna to sigh through her nose... Of course he'd get so caught up in his own fascination that he'd forget what he was supposed to be doing... In truth, it actually gave her hope, as it was a trait that she knew Orzel shared as well.

"Right, yes... Of course!" Piercing's cheeks flushed as he clapped his hands together, then brought one to his chin. "It appears that people she designates may use their arcane signature to open the door, all others must speak a pass phrase." He explained, stepping back from the door and crossing his arms. "I wouldn't recommend trying to teleport through... I don't think they would seriously injure you, but the wards look strong enough to give you a nasty headache. Try just... Giving it a burst of magic." Luna nodded reluctantly, then extended her hand and placed it upon the cold steel surface. Her magic flowed from her palm, illuminating the runes and prompting a muffled 'thunk-thud' from within as the locking bolts retracted inwards. "Remarkable..." Mumbled piercing. With equally remarkable ease, the blast door swung open, revealing the darkened tower base beyond.

What looked to be a half assembled toy soldier lay atop Orzel's portable enchanting tablet, though closer inspection revealed its arm was modified to sport an enchanting stylus... In fact, most of the other toy soldiers were likewise adjusted. It certainly explained how her daughter could complete so many runes in such a short amount of time, she had help... Proud as that might've made the Princess, the fact that the toy soldier now sat half finished was evidence enough for Luna to suspect something was wrong...

She knew Orzel wouldn't leave a project out in such a disassembled state, or rather, the girl would instead organize the pieces and neatly put away her tools for later. In this case they were strewn about the workbench in that bizarre 'orderly chaos' fashion Orzel tended to leave things in as she worked. More over, Luna had always suspected that despite her daughter's age, for whatever reason, playthings in general held a special place in Orzel's heart. The way she took care to arrange her stuffed animals, or how she went out of her way to ensure every model she made was as close to perfect as possible. The discordant state of the toy soldier wasn't the only thing that drew Luna's attention, nor was it the primary reason she grew concerned.

Every conceivable flat surface at the base of the tower was adorned with numerous votive candles, flickering faintly in the darkness, confined to red decorative glass containers. A faint lingering smell of frankincense and sage wafted through the open doorway to greet Luna and Piercing. A look of recognition filled the man's eyes, though what it pertained to, the man didn't say.

Luna suspected that the mage was pondering something, something she trusted he'd share with her if he felt it pertinent. Just to see that look in his eyes again, to hear his meandering tangents and theorizing, filled her with indescribable joy... With only a slight pause, the two stepped into the darkened cavernous tower. Abruptly, the door closed of its own volition behind them, latching into place with a dull thud and the mechanical clatter of locking bolts. Piercing turned around, taking just a few moments to examine the hatch itself, before tucking his hands into his pockets.

Only light from Luna's ethereal mane and the candles remained to permeate the gloom, the latter of which were not only confined to the furniture, but also occasionally placed upon the steps leading up to Orzel's bedchamber. A quick examination of one of the glass containers revealed they too were enchanted, thankfully in a script that Luna understood this time. They'd keep the candles burning for an extended period, and, most importantly, prevent them from causing a fire. It came as a relief to Luna, given the sheer amount of books Luna saw at the base of the tower. If they'd caught fire, it was likely the entire stone structure would function as a gigantic furnace. As she'd expected, the vast majority of those tomes pertained in one way or another to meditation or other such means of achieving 'enlightenment'...

"Please, do try to be careful..." Luna warned Piercing as he examined a notebook beside the unfinished puppet. Luna quickly joined him, taking a closer look at the workbench. The man nodded absently, picking up the book and flipping through the pages, which once again seemed to have his utter fascination.

Luna examined the writing for herself, an act that resulted in a mixture of curiosity and disappointment. Her daughter made a habit of writing her notes in Szafirian, and while Luna could speak the language fluently, reading it was a different matter altogether. Piercing, however, seemed perfectly capable. Thankfully, her daughter included numerous diagrams and schematics, which allowed Luna deduce that most of these were conceptual designs.

They appeared innocent enough, at least at first... For example there were obvious calculations about how to create full sized versions of her toy soldiers. What kid wouldn't want their own personal automaton? Still, Luna also saw the potential harm such devices might create... Sure, an automaton could be used to help carry books, but it could just as easily be re-purposed to carry a rifle, or perform for other less innocent tasks... Orzel's modification of the toy soldiers already proved as much.

For a few brief moments, Luna envisioned an army numbering in the thousands, glittering soldiers of steel marching endlessly from smoke churning factories. In reality, the Princess knew that such a thing could never happen. Orzel's calculations concluded as much. The machines would require an immense amount of power, more power than any conceivable Arcane battery could supply. Add to that the mathematical and engineering difficulties of Square-Cube Law, and there was no real way Orzel's design could be 'scaled up' without the automaton collapsing under its own weight... Then again, Luna knew that magic was about making the impossible possible...

"Do you think she is capable of actually making any of these?" This was the question that burned brightest in Luna's mind. Piercing merely shrugged, thumbing through the pages with an appraising eye. "I need to know..."

Both Celestia and Luna knew that recently Orzel showed virtually no emotion at all, as if the teen was one of the automatons straight out of one of her science fiction stories. What Piercing told her earlier of the girl's physiology, however, made it unlikely that Orzel wasn't nearly as calm as she appeared. Luna had to wonder if the concepts she saw depicted in the notebook, innocent as they might seem on the surface, weren't in actuality meant as a subconscious cry for help...

Admittedly it wasn't just Orzel's mental health the woman was worried about, it was her daughter's public image. Given what she'd been told by the guards in the throne room, Orzel was well within her rights to place Jet Set and Upper Crust under arrest as she did. Moreover, their veiled threats and demands were enough to warrant an official investigation into Jet Set Industries as a whole. The Nobles, of course, would bill it as a misuse of power or a fishing expedition.

Orzel's interest in enchanting was tolerated for now, but if she began looking to turn her research towards a military end... Well, it wouldn't do her any favors in Canterlot. Using enchantments on weapons, or creating enchanted items as weapons themselves, was a major taboo in Canterlot's magic community. Magic was considered to be an 'art form', something that came from the heart. Using magic to enhance weapons would therefore send the message that Orzel's heart was artistically inclined towards war...

"Is she capable...? Certainly." Piercing began. "Will she actually make anything in this book...?" The man shrugged, turning and setting the notebook back on the workbench. "I don't know. My guess is that all this..." The man gestured about the darkened room at the candles, books, and various gizmos Luna knew to be of her daughter's creation. "Is her way of seeking answers for something she's ill equipped to understand on her own. The realization that she's built differently from her peers."

Luna nodded quietly, squeezing Piercing's hand as she examined a few of the other devices for herself. Their purposes seemed to serve simply as examples of different engineering mechanisms, including a few rather crude looking 'engines' cobbled together from old coffee tins, coat hangars, and rubber gloves. She also spotted a toaster which Orzel likely 'borrowed' from the Castle's kitchen, and the woman could only guess what sort of experiments or tinkering Orzel had in store for the poor defenseless appliance. Toasters were a particular favorite of Orzel's when it came to acquiring the parts she needed. They had 'good springs', as her daughter explained.

"It could also be something entirely different." Piercing added with a somewhat hopeful tone, quietly following Luna as the pair now abandoned the workbench to start up the tower steps. "As you know, she is Kwarczkie..." Piercing stopped to correct himself. "Szafirian... We know so little about their actual physiology, the progression of their life cycle. It could be that this is the start of a natural phase, a maturation towards a more widely expanded intellect. She might just be... Well... Growing up."

Luna hadn't considered that possibility, and likely wouldn't have... She didn't really know how that made her feel either. She knew intellectually that in just a few short years Orzel would be an adult, and she was alright with that, in theory... In practice, well... Whether Piercing was right was yet to be determined, and while Luna hoped that this particular phase would pass quickly, a part of her just wished Orzel would stop growing... Just for a little bit.

Her daughter was exceptionally bright, especially for someone her age. Even in spite of the limitations of the Imperial education system, her voracious appetite for knowledge meant she would soon outpace her peers... Most parents would be ecstatic, and Luna was, but... Not as much as she thought she should've been. Orzel could consume all the knowledge of the Royal Library, reach a point where she could feasibly debate masters of their fields, and that was great... Again, in theory.

The cost was that if something didn't change soon, Orzel seemed set on a course of becoming more and more of a recluse. The tower she inhabited was separated from the main body of the tower, secluded and far away... It'd just had heavy blast doors installed, doors that couldn't be opened without a high security criteria. How much longer until Orzel started refusing to leave for family meals, or started sleeping with her Mother's sword under her pillow. The last thing Luna wanted for her child was to live perpetually in a bunker, to develop a mindset where the outside world was poison, something to be feared and guarded against with lethal force... All that valuable knowledge, and the beautiful mind that accompanied it, would be sealed off forever.

With that cheerful thought, Luna and Piercing ascended the tower steps, though at a considerably slower pace than the former would've liked. Typically she just used her wings or magic to bypass the stairs altogether, but even walking on her own she could cover the distance much quicker. Piercing's muscles were still suffering from atrophy, and so the two of them were forced to stop half way up the steps, allowing him to take a seat and catch his breath. Seeing Piercing in such a weakened state was disheartening, he'd seemed fully recovered before... At least he was on the mend, faring far better now than he'd been just a few days ago.

For Luna, every step he took was another victory... While she'd managed to compose herself since departing the train station, her emotions were still running quite high. Here she was, with him, going to look in on her child... She had to stop herself thinking about how things might've been different a thousand years ago, otherwise she'd lose her composure, and that'd make the continuing journey upwards that much more difficult.

Sitting beside Piercing, the woman extended a wing and wrapped it around his shoulders, holding him close against her as she'd done in the car. The warmth of his skin against hers, the feeling of him breathing beneath her wings, even the faint hint of cigarette smoke she detected radiating from his clothes, all were further monuments... Piercing... Observos... He was alive! He was alive and sitting beside her! All those years she'd grieved, all the years she'd remained alone, knowing there would be no one that could ever replace her beloved mage... She hadn't waited for nothing. There was still so much to worry over, so many things to concern and torment her, but finally... Finally, a piece she'd been missing for so long was restored to its rightful place... Now she could worry about something else.

"I am worried about her..." Luna stated bluntly whilst turning her eyes upward, holding Piercing's hand and leaning against him. "I know, I always worry, but..." The woman shook her head. "This is different... Something I have spoken of with Celestia."

She didn't expect Piercing to offer any advice, not at present at any rate. He'd always been the sort to listen to everything, to get all the facts, before speaking, if he spoke at all. Sometimes all Luna needed to do was talk, to get it all out in the open... Just knowing that someone was listening helped wonders.

"When first she arrived, Celestia suggested we ask the Dean at the Mages' College to take her in." Luna continued solemnly, recalling her earlier thoughts about her daughter, how proud she was... How happy she was, versus how happy she felt she should've been... "It was my decision to immediately adopt Orzel... Mine. It was Celestia and I that decided she would become a Princess... Ours, not hers... And she... She did not question it, she just..." The woman's voice cracked briefly, her nostrils flaring as she let out a tremendously guilty sigh. "She started studying... Every thing I tutored her on, every subject, every lesson, she threw herself into it with hardly any hesitation. She's gotten so smart, I wonder if she is not just playing along for my benefit!" Luna couldn't help but speak with a growing tone of pride, but quickly that pride turned to remorse.

"Now I find myself wondering if perhaps she might not have been better off with Dean Velvet." The Princess admitted, and once again it took all her strength to keep the emotions from overwhelming her. "There would be far less scrutiny upon her, far less stress... She would not fear the outside world as she does, she would have a life outside these walls..." Luna put her head in her hands, clenching her eyes tightly. "You saw her notebook for yourself... She could have the intellect to become one of the greatest minds of this generation, she certainly has the drive..." The Princess sighed heavily. "Except no one will ever care about that. They will not care what good she might bring, because all they will ever see, all they will ever care about, is her crown and her status as my daughter." Piercing lifted her head out of her hands, offering a soft smile of encouragement.

"Maybe you're right, maybe that would've been the better choice, in hindsight..." Piercing began, squeezing Luna's hand firmly. "It's easy to predict the future when the future is history, but with the exception perhaps of Director Orcus, there's no one I know that's mastered the field of Divination magic." He explained. "You. Cannot. Read. The future, Luna." The man declared bluntly, slowly, as Luna allowed the man to hug her tightly, her wing holding him closer. "You made the decision to take her in yourself because you felt it best for her, right?" Luna nodded. "She's better off now than she was when she got here? She's well fed and clothed? Getting the care she needs?" Luna nodded again. "Do you love her?"

"She is my child..." Luna declared fiercely, earning a wide grin from Piercing.

"So why worry about what's been done?" Piercing asked simply, sighing contentedly through his nose. "She calls you Mother, and from what I've read in her notebook, she studies so hard because she wants to follow the example you've set..." The man rolled his shoulders, then gently removed Luna's wing from his shoulder so that he could tentatively stand up. "You're family because of that snap decision you made, and if you asked her whether she thought you made the right choice, I guarantee you she'd say you did." Luna stood up beside the man, looking at him with glistening eyes as she allowed his words to sink in. "She chose to call you Mother. You earned that title." She couldn't fight the tears anymore, and in one great flourish of motion she once again embraced the man.

"Thank you, Piercing..." Luna accepted brittly, squeezing him tighter and tighter against her chest. Sometimes she got so caught up in worrying about her daughter that she forgot just how and why those those feelings ran so deep. It took her a few moments to compose herself again, and through it all Piercing was right there, comforting her as he'd done a hundred times before in those long ago days of their youth.

Together the two of them continued up the steps, taking them closer still to the solitary bedchamber. The pair stopped before the second heavy steel blast door, which displayed more of the spiraling runes, glowing in that pulsating mixture of cerulean and oxidized bronze. With moderate hesitation, Luna placed her hand on the door and sent forth her magic, further illuminating the runes on its metallic surface. Just as before, the door unlocked itself and swung open, and for a few moments the Princess feared she'd awaken her daughter with the noise. Then, without warning, Luna and Piercing were suddenly awash in wave of haze smelling intensely of frankincense and sage.

A cloud of whitish fog clung close to the floor of Orzel's bedchamber, apparently originating from a small brass smoke pot. Despite the volume of smoke, it was evident that the smoke pot was likewise enchanted for safety purposes, so it posed little risk. The noise of the door was apparently muffled by music, playing from a modified enchanted phonograph, which was playing a recording of some obviously religious draconic chant. Between that, the candles, and the smoke pot, the overall atmosphere within the room more resembled an abbey or convent than a bedchamber.

Luna and Piercing took care to be as quiet as possible, wincing at the sound of the door automatically closing and latching itself shut, just as its partner on the ground floor did earlier. Every step they took disturbed the low hanging fog, sending little ripples through the otherwise calm sea of swirling aromatic vapor. At the center of the room Luna saw a pile of books, or as close to a pile as Orzel likely allowed herself to create. It was thereupon that she saw the diminutive form of her daughter, dressed in simple robes, curled up and fast asleep.

The atmosphere and the ongoing litany revealed to Luna just how much her daughter was likely shaken by her near transformation, even if the girl refused to admit as much. Admittedly, Luna knew little about the Draconic Pantheon, but she did know Orzel's faith in a higher power was considerably strained... She reasoned, therefore, that her daughter wouldn't be seeking religion unless she felt her emotions felt truly beyond her own control. At least the chant's lyrics conveyed a positive message, the words speaking of peace and serenity.

Luna wordlessly approached the girl's bed while Piercing moved to the book cluttered desk, likely out of a desire to avoid being seen in the event Orzel awoke abruptly. Drawing down the covers, and fluffing her daughter's pillow, Luna took a brief moment to pick up a rather rough looking stuffed bear. She didn't know where it'd come from, only that it was evidently her daughter's favorite... Luna didn't really understand why, between its mismatched button eyes and slightly matted fur, it was hardly the picture of order and control Luna assumed her daughter would prefer in a plaything. It even smelled vaguely of charcoal, of all things.

Setting the bear down beside the pillow, Luna moved to the pile of books and looked down on Orzel, contemplating just how best to move her. A pile of books was no place for a Princess to sleep, after all. While awake Orzel could disguise or conceal her feelings, but in the unconscious state of sleep, Luna saw a great deal of fear etched into the sleeping visage of her daughter. The last thing she wanted to do was wake her, so as carefully as she could Luna gently scooped her daughter into her arms. The girl was actually quite heavy, despite being so small in stature. That was natural for a Drake, as more developed muscles, denser bones, and overall sturdiness tended to add quite a bit of weight.

Still, with the aid of her Alicorn strength, Luna managed to carry her daughter towards the girl's bed. Laying the still slumbering teen on the bed, Luna carefully removed the girl's glasses and headscarf, folding both neatly and setting them on the bedside table. Only then did she pull the covers up, though not before placing the odd little bear in Orzel's arms. The teen's face briefly displayed a look of abject fear at being touched, but this subsided as the girl snuggled the stuffed animal close to her. Luna woman brushed a few stray strands of hair at out the girl's face, then lovingly tucked her in.

Orzel whimpered quietly in her sleep, the look of anxiety once more crossing her features. After a few moments she began to fidget beneath the covers, whimpering and yelping all the while. Without hesitation, Luna placed a hand on the girl's forehead... This granted her a brief glimpse into her daughter's dreams. She saw flashes of a man of average height, adorned in a uniform of some kind, obviously Imperial... Its closeness to that of a typical Draconic or even a Griffon uniform couldn't be ignored, consisting of a dull green fabric and a short peaked cap, which was navy blue in color.

Distorted through the lens of sleep, this man cruelly displayed a wicked ear-to-ear smile, with eyes blazing like two miniature suns. Towering in stature, Orzel pictured him leering down at her, laughing maniacally as he reached out to get her. Luna's nostrils were briefly assaulted by the phantom smell of ink and parchment, and in her fleeting snapshot of the nightmare she could hear her daughter's frightened screams. The man wasn't alone either, joined by dozens of other faceless figures in those same uniforms, all with arms outstretched. Whomever this figure was to Orzel, Luna knew that he was a source of great fear, self-loathing, and shame... Perhaps this was her father?

"Realm of dreams, send instead onto me that which troubles my darling child." Luna stated solemnly, using her magic to force the nightmares to subside, taking all the horror into her own mind... Luna was used to dealing with the nightmares of Equestria and the world at large, but in those instances she was a professional, an outsider. She could compartmentalize her feelings, help the person work through their issues from a position of rational outside observation. That was impossible in Orzel's case... Luna couldn't be objective, and that made it difficult for her to help Orzel work through the dreams, so that left only one option. To take those nightmares onto herself was a small price to pay, even if it only staved the monstrous visions off for a single night. A price that Luna would readily pay again.

The woman gained more insight into who the uniformed man was to her daughter from her brief glimpse into Orzel's dream. He wasn't her Father, thankfully... His name was Agent Zhelezo, and to Orzel he was the MIS agent epitomized all that was to be feared of a tyrannical state... The other faceless horrors were his minions... Luna got the impression that time and again, this Agent Zhelezo served as the source of a great many fearful and shameful moments. Fragmented details emerged, figments of memories not her own, flickering through Luna's mind in fits of stunning clarity, all of the colors so vivid, so... Real.

The emotions those images conjured vastly surpassed what Luna expected, and it was all the woman could do to keep from crying out, as if she herself was living through those nightmares. Though the images were difficult to piece together, and even harder to watch, Luna wasn't surprised. Autocratic regimes weren't confined to the Other World, after all... The visions were obviously more than enough to leave yet another series of grizzly scars on Orzel's back. Invisible to the eye, but just as deep, cruel, and gruesome as the most brutal of floggings... Each insisting that she was worthless, that she was disposable, just like every other subject of the Empire... That such a mental scar was inflicted on a child was an abomination, and that it was Luna's child... Unforgivable.

Gradually the images faded from the woman's thoughts, but the pain they conjured still lingered... Knowing that her daughter was in such pain, an emotional pain for which there was no physical balm, proved just as difficult to weather as the nightmares themselves. 'Agent Zhelezo' was fortunate to be separated from Luna by the vast void of time and space, else she very well might've hunted him down and rent him limb from limb...

"I am sorry I did not return sooner..." Luna's voice was quiet, soft, soothing... "I love you... So very very much..." She added before planting a kiss on her daughter's forehead, then standing to her full height. Orzel didn't respond verbally, instead nestling more deeply beneath the blanket, clutching the stuffed bear tightly to her chest. Her face was now a picture of calm serenity, the girl's frightened whimpering thankfully ceased.

With her daughter in bed where she belonged, Luna joined Piercing at Orzel's desk. The man was curiously examining a closed book, its cover well appointed with distinctly draconic motifs. The title, printed upon the leather in gold, revealed it to be the religious book of the Lexicans. She'd only ever heard of Lexicos because of Piercing, and the man seemed just as intrigued as she was disquieted. While slightly curious to see what it might contain, she was also exceptionally tired. With her magic she stopped the phonograph, then extinguished the smoke pot and candles, leaving the tower's arrow slits as the only sources of pale moonlight... That and, once again, her glowing hair. Taking Piercing's hand in her own, the Princess opened the great blast door and exited as quietly as possible.

"Your thoughts on the book...?" Luna asked softly, only after the door was closed behind them. "Do you think I should be concerned?" The descent was far easier than the trip up, and Luna was pleased to see she wouldn't need to stop for Piercing to rest. Luna's magic hadn't been confined to the bedchamber, and so the rest of the tower was also plunged into near total darkness.

"I don't know your daughter like you do, I can't really say. On top of that, I'm not really the 'parent' type..." Piercing responded evenly, clasping his hands behind his back as they continued down the spiraling steps, each footfall echoing through the cavernous blackness. "That said...? Considering the Gods that make up the draconic pantheon, there are far worse deities Orzel could take an interest in than Lexicos. Paslen is the next best... Her followers are very somber people, very humble... A tad macabre, but you tend to get that sort of mentality worshiping the Goddess of Death."

"I'd only be worried if she was following Roshami. Draconic God of War, legendarily fiery temper..." Piercing continued absentmindedly, a thoughtful glaze gradually overtaking his eyes. "Also the God of Love and Family, which should give some insight into the typical Draconic view of courtship and social interaction in general. I find you can learn a lot about a culture by their war and love deities, you know?" The man trailed off. "I digress... Suffice to say, I'm not concerned."

Luna cast a glance upwards, then sighed, sometimes if felt like she just couldn't catch a break. While Piercing admitted he wasn't concerned, Luna couldn't help worrying... She wasn't against the notion of Orzel one day returning to some sort of faith, she just... Wanted it to be for the right reasons. Not out of fear or outward pressure... The odds were that things wouldn't go anywhere, that Orzel's agnostic side would win out... Then again, the fact that the teen was taking an interest in a Goddess who supposedly played an integral role in the history of her ancestors was also worrisome. Luna counted it a happy coincidence that Piercing's return occurred around the same time, at least now she had someone she could ask for clarification, even if most of his knowledge came from memory alone, and was typically accompanied by a tangent or two.

Piercing's return also presented a difficult scenario, one that'd need to be addressed sooner rather than later. That being how she'd introduce him to Orzel... It would be a sudden shock, Luna knew that, but concealing her relationship from her daughter would probably be the worse option. Orzel would detect some sort of clue, ferret out some detail or nugget of information. Without the complete picture, the girl's mind would run wild with paranoia and anxiety, until finally she reached the conclusion that Piercing was some sort of spy or manipulator... Gaining Orzel's trust after the 'Paranoia Train' left the station would prove as difficult as pulling teeth. Tomorrow, Luna concluded... She'd tell Orzel about it tomorrow at dinner...

Chapter 13

Of the many things that Celestia had been craving since their abrupt departure from the Grand Galloping Gala, a quiet breakfast was near the top of the list. As she sat in the expansive royal dining room, the scent of tea and eggs fresh in her nose, that quite breakfast was exactly what she'd gotten. Luna and Piercing were still asleep, Blueblood was already busy with his daily duties, and Cadence was also notably absent... Gossip from the Cleaning Staff indicated that she'd spent the evening in Shining Armor's quarters, but that was the sort of thing Celestia tried not to partake in... Even if she believed it. Whatever the reasons, the simple truth was that Celestia had the entire room to herself.

She was taking her time with her plate, working each piece of the meal at her leisure, silently pondering just what to do first with her morning. It'd likely be little more than reading the backlog of messages she'd received over the course of her absence of about two weeks, and that was bound to come with headaches... For now, however briefly, she could just sit before one of the sunlit windows, basking in the warmth of her dawn. Taking a sip from her cup of tea, the Princess reclined in her seat, eying that morning's edition of the 'Canterlot Bulletin' with modest intrigue.

There, splashed across the front page, were two mugshots. Jet Set and Upper Crust, looking into the camera with some of the most profound looks of disbelief Celestia had ever seen. Unlike other papers in Canterlot, the Bulletin was one of the few that Celestia trusted. Few details were released, but various sources were cited as having heard both Nobles verbally threaten both Princess Orzel and their tenants with financial and reputational harm. These sources were in line with reports from the Lunar Marines in the room, what with their considerably well developed hearing. The irony was that the two real estate magnates had their own reputation among Canterlot's citizenry, and as such Celestia doubted there would be much sympathy on their behalf, outside of the boiler plate Noble Party push back.

She'd already received half a dozen 'urgent' petitions for their release, coming from some of the mightiest law firms in the city... Could she order the release of Jet Set and Upper Crust? Of course. Would she? No... This was a power play on the part of the Nobles, if they could convince Celestia to release their compatriots it would send the message that Orzel wasn't to be taken seriously, something she suspected the girl to have figured out... Celestia shook her head at the thought of her niece, looking back at her plate and stabbing at an egg with her fork.

The woman knew that Orzel didn't go out of her way to cause problems, that more often than not it was the other way around, but... It could regardless get tiresome cleaning up all the controversy the young Princess inspired. Celestia of course had to take some responsibility for the state of things. The fact that both she and Luna agreed to make Orzel a Princess in the first place sprang to mind. Moreover, a monarch was ultimately at fault for certain actions of their subjects, and it was one thousand years of her complacently indulgent manner of rule that allowed this atmosphere of toxicity to fester and take root. Compared to her, the people of Equestria were but children, and she'd spoiled them as such... It just as well could have been Luna, Cadence, or even Blueblood, being lambasted by the press in such a fashion.

Realistically, she was more concerned by what she'd read several pages into the paper, in the 'International' section. Among the highlights was a drought across the continent Western Parthenia, border tensions between the Minotaur Republic and the Eastern Dragonlands, several violent coup de'tats in North Zebrica, and extensive pirate activity rising across all the world's oceans. These, it was assumed, were the proverbial 'aftershocks' from the Chaos Wave. Most present in Celestia's mind were reports of widespread strikes and other civil unrest unfolding in the Griffon Empire, primarily in the Northern Provinces. Some were protests, others were riots, but the Empire intended to quash them all with its military. She'd keep an eye on things, make diplomatic requests for leniency, but Equestria's standing policy was one of non-involvement, not without being invited in by the Griffons, and only then to serve as a mediator...

Even if she felt inclined to interfere, Celestia was already busy enough dealing with things on the home front. The effort to clean up the solutes left behind by the deluge of Chocolate Milk was getting underway. Already there were unprecedented arguments in the National Council about which areas of Equestria should get priority first. As most Black Crown strongholds were in rural areas, the areas most widely effected, it stood to reason that they'd wind up the first to receive aid...

It'd be the first major political victory Post-Bill 250 for either side, and Celestia predicted that'd lead to an explosive level of support for the fledgling party, as if things couldn't get even more complicated... She'd presided over numerous periods of unrest and disenfranchisement, but the rapid polarization she saw now was unlike any she'd seen before. The presence of a radio in virtually every household or automobile made access to information that much easier, and it was through that information that the discontentment was being spread... There wasn't anything Celestia could really do about it either, not without violating the constitution at any rate. That was probably for the best. Better to err on the side of liberty... At least the stock market was recovering.

The woman's thoughts were interrupted by the opening of the dining room doors, though Celestia was too focused on the paper and her meal to look up. In all likelihood it was Luna and Piercing, or perhaps Director Orcus had arrived with the morning threat assessment... Just what she needed after reading about all the ways the world was in trouble. A few moments passed before the seat next to Celestia was withdrawn. The woman looked up then, and was forced to do a double take, as she saw none other than Orzel scooting her seat in. Given what Celestia heard the night before, she was the last person the elder Princess would've expected to see.

Orzel appeared freshly showered, and attired in simple gray robes, rather than her usually more 'utilitarian' choice of wardrobe. As usual she wore her glasses and a headscarf, though this one was a deep shade of crimson, and lacked the typical floral pattern Celestia had come to expect. Celestia couldn't quite place it, but there was something else about the girl, something that seemed... Off. As if her very presence wasn't aberration enough. Of course the woman wasn't the only one surprised, seeing as the Royal server was quickly moving towards the table, pen and notepad already in hand.

"I will have two eggs, soft boiled, with my typical extra accompaniments, please..." Orzel stated simply, the server quickly jotting it down and walking away. "Good morning, Aunt Celestia." Celestia blinked owlishly, quickly shaking off her surprise and offering a smile.

"Good morning!" The older Princess greeted, setting her fork down for the moment and turning her full attention to her niece. At a glance Orzel was just as implacable as ever, but now that Celestia looked closer, there was actually just the faintest hint of cheerfulness to her demeanor. "I wasn't expecting that you'd join me, this is a pleasant surprise. It's been a while since we've had time to talk one on one." Celestia could detect just the faintest hint of relief in her niece's eyes, as if the absence of Luna, or anyone else for that matter, brought her some sort of comfort... Yet another thing to add to the list of things Celestia felt a need to address in the future. "I trust you slept well?" Her niece nodded, leaning back in her seat and folding her hands in her lap.

"I had the most wonderful dream..." Orzel admitted with the faintest of smiles, which Celestia knew translated to a large grin in a typical person. "I was in this massive library, larger than all of Canterlot..." The girl trailed off, the smile quickly evaporating away. Celestia followed the girl's eyes, which were fixed squarely on the newspaper. "Mother paid me a visit last night." It wasn't a question. Celestia nodded, watching as her niece picked up the paper and examined it for herself. "She was not alone... The door logs show there was a man with her. Identity unknown..." Celestia couldn't hide her surprise at that, then again, adding an enchantment that kept track of a door's comings and goings wouldn't be that difficult...

"He's a very good friend of the family... An expert on your ancestors." Celestia explained, hoping that would prevent Orzel from raising any further questions. Just who Piercing was and why he was there was a matter better left to Luna to discuss. The girl lowered her head slightly, peering at Celestia over the top of her glasses with an obviously skeptical glint in her eyes... Even if the act itself likely meant the older Princess looked like little more than a colorful blur. For a few moments Celestia considered what would be best to say, but... Nothing seemed right. She could only guess how Orzel might react to the news that her Mother was seeing someone, let alone that that particular someone would likely become her Step-Father. "I'm afraid it wouldn't be appropriate for me to tell you anymore than that at present."

Orzel emitted just the faintest of sighs, then returned her attention back to the newspaper, flipping past the front page to the business section. Just like that, the minute trace of cheerfulness left the teenager, buried beneath an avalanche of icy cold stoicism... Yet, despite her obvious efforts to come off as distant, Celestia got the distinct impression that Orzel had something she wanted to say. For one thing, Celestia didn't even know her niece read newspapers, let alone that she seemed more interested in the financial section than anything else... That, coupled with her unexpected appearance for breakfast and the evident relief at Luna's absence, told Celestia that Orzel had a specific goal in mind... Something she didn't think she could bring to her Mother. That was... Troubling.

"What're you reading?" Celestia laced her fingers together, leaning on the table and observing her niece a bit more closely. Orzel didn't take her eyes off the paper, the faintly glowing orbs darting back and forth across line after line. "Any stock tips... Keys to fabulous riches?" The woman tried to sound friendly, and that evidently caught Orzel's attention just enough for her to briefly look at her aunt.

"I am more interested to see what new technologies are being developed... There are two brothers, Misters Flim and Flam, seeking investors for an invention relating to food processing..." Orzel mumbled, lowering the paper and pointing to one of the sections. Celestia hadn't read the paper that far ahead as of yet, so she curiously examined the wording. The names Flim and Flam, however, sent a myriad of warning flags racing up the proverbial halyard. "If I had any money, I might consider buying... What is the word? A 'stake'...?" That struck Celestia once more as strange, she would've thought her niece would demand to see proof of the invention's existence, to know precisely just how it worked.

"Well, you do have money, but I wouldn't spend it on something like that." Celestia decided to continue along, hoping that perhaps a little more discussion might coax Orzel into speaking whatever was on her mind. The teen looked honestly surprised at the news, lowering the paper just a tad, her stoic mask faltering for the longest Celestia had so far seen. "You helped run the country for the two weeks we were gone. It's only fair you should be compensated for that work." Orzel's surprise was replaced by genuine confusion.

"I did that because it was my duty." She stated, as if the idea of being paid hadn't even occurred to her. Knowing how Orzel tended to think, Celestia didn't doubt that was exactly what happened. It actually brought a smile to the woman's face, though evidently that wasn't the case for Orzel, as the girl actually looked... Ashamed? "My temporary stewardship of our country was fraught with trouble... As such, I do not feel I have earned any such 'payment'. Besides, I installed new doors on my tower, each cost nearly eight-hundred Bits..." Celestia unceremoniously plucked the newspaper from Orzel, folding it neatly and setting it aside, taking extra care to ensure not a single glimpse of the two Nobles on its cover were visible.

"You did well under the circumstances, Orzel." Celestia assured gently, inwardly doing her best to refrain from cursing the names Jet Set and Upper Crust. The woman's words apparently sent the teen's eyes darting about the table cloth in rapid succession, as if she was searching for some further reason to object. Celestia needed to act quickly, as her niece's ability to find reasons to criticize herself was astonishingly well developed. It wasn't as bad as it was before she'd started therapy, thankfully, but the woman got the distinct impression there were still a great many things that Orzel didn't like about herself... "As for the doors in your tower, I recall that they needed to be replaced anyway."

That was a bit of an understatement, considering the old doors lacked a functioning lock, aside from a padlock which could only be applied from the outside. In the grand scheme of things, eight-hundred Bits per door was a bargain price, especially when taking into account the usual cost of the Castle's upkeep. Regardless of the price, Celestia could tell that even small purchases troubled Orzel. It was only natural, given the appalling standards of living described in the Szafirian Empire. From what Celestia could recall, despite living in a fairly well sized estate, Orzel's family nonetheless was often times barely able to afford basic necessities.

"I still do not feel I am deserving..." Orzel repeated distantly, resting her head on one of her hands as she leaned on the table. "You people have granted me access to more books than I ever could have dreamed of, to boundless enchanting supplies, clothes, food, a bed..." The girl tapped the side of her glasses. "With these I can see... I can actually see... The cost for these miracles is my service to my new motherland. Therefore, I feel I have already been 'paid'." Celestia placed a comforting hand on her niece's shoulder, gently coaxing the teen to look at her after a few moments of silence.

"It's not payment, Orzel, that's just what a family does for each other... You're smart enough to know that." The woman declared with gentle sternness, so that Orzel would know there was no room for arguing. Sure enough the teen nodded, albeit reluctantly, her gaze returning to the table. "Difficult as it may be to believe, even Princesses need their own money. You wouldn't use taxpayer Bits to buy a fancy new dress for yourself, would you?" Orzel stared at her blankly, and Celestia inwardly sighed almost immediately after the words left her lips. While Orzel could clean up nicely, it was obvious that designer dresses were the last thing she'd willingly spend money on. Tools, notebooks, maybe a new lab coat, but not dresses. "Okay, bad example, but you're also smart enough to see my point." There was another reluctant nod.

"If it helps, why don't we make this a lesson in economics." Celestia offered, withdrawing her hand from the girl's shoulder and taking another sip of tea. "I'll pay you what your Mother would've made for the two weeks you and Cadence ruled, I want you to use the money, however you see, fit to get the most value out of it." This was a lesson that she knew Luna had attempted once before, which didn't necessarily go as planned given some unfortunate timing. As far as Celestia knew, Orzel was still hiding the original twenty Bits she'd been given weeks ago. "Remember, the point of the exercise is to acquire something you want at the lowest price. Shop around, look for the best deal, then make the purchase."

"If you insist..." Orzel conceded hesitantly, looking at the table and twiddling her thumbs. "How much money will you be giving me?" Celestia bit her lip, that was the quarter-million Bit question... Well, actually a little more like two-hundred-thirty-thousand Bit question. The figure was... Extreme. At least by typical Equestrian standards, and Celestia suspected virtually inconceivable for Orzel.

It was sometimes difficult for even Celestia to grasp just how immense the money granted to the Crown was. Most of it came from real estate and other diversified investments, managed by a non-partisan board of directors who were, by law, required to remain as discrete as possible. A comparatively small portion came from the revenue generated by the gate admission, tours, and gift shops in the Castle's public sections. Having ruled alone for a thousand years, Celestia's personal wealth at one time exceeded the annual GDP of several countries... A portion of those funds were used to maintain the Castle grounds and interior, paying the salaries of the Castle's staff and the like.

Celestia had since divided up her vast private fortune among Blueblood, Cadence, and Luna. Orzel would likewise be added to that list when she came of age, which was why it was so vital that she learn to handle large sums of money... As a Drake, it would also be best to start her off with a comparatively small amount, so as not to overwhelm her ability to restrain the draconic urge to hoard. Obviously as a spur of the moment decision, this wasn't something Celestia had discussed with Luna, and she expected that how that conversation would go after the fact depended greatly on how Orzel reacted. She just hoped that the girl didn't have a conniption.

"Two hundred and thirty thousand Bits, give or take a few hundred..." Celestia stated bluntly, and for a few seconds she thought Orzel's eyes would actually bulge out of her head. The teen's jaw fell slack, in fact it seemed every part of her was limp. A few moments later Celestia saw the faint cerulean glow of the girl's eyes flicker...

Gradually that glow became more pronounced, taking on a distinctly greenish hue that somehow alternated between emerald and oxidizing bronze. This wasn't something Celestia was all that alarmed by, merely the outward manifestation of Orzel's draconic urge to acquire wealth... If there was anything to be really afraid of, the girl would've started another Elemental Transformation then and there. With a herculean effort, the mask of stoicism reasserted itself. The glowing intensity of those eyes lingered for several seconds, but they too eventually returned to the typical Cerulean shade.

"I... Do not... Need so much." Orzel's words were heavily stilted, further evidence that the urges were still running hot beneath the calm facade. As much as Celestia wanted to agree with Orzel's sentiment, the simple matter was that there was a reason the members of the Crown boasted such large bank accounts.

"You do, if you wish to get certain things done in Equestria." Celestia stated simply, taking on a tone that she'd not used since Twilight Sparkle's last in person lesson. "You recall that the completion of ESS Sokol is widely due to your Mother, correct?" Orzel nodded, taking a deep breath and steadying herself against the table. "When the program had its funding cut, how do you imagine she continued production? How about this Castle? It's a project I funded myself."

The woman looked about the dining room, recalling the tribulations that came with building a Castle atop a mountain. It'd been a necessary struggle, a means of helping Equestria's economy recover in the wake of the Nightmare War. The project was the single largest public work of its time, responsible for hiring thousands of men and women, building roads, aqueducts, and other vital infrastructure left in ruins following the war. With its coffers almost entirely depleted, there was no way Equestria itself could've supported such an endeavor.

"Without my fortune, the foundation for this city we call home would never have come into being. Without your Mother's funds, ESS Sokol would've been broken up for scrap. Without Cadence's, Las Pegasus would still be in the grips of a housing crisis..." Celestia turned her view back to her niece. "Equestria's government works well in most situations, but sometimes... The bureaucracy and deadlock can leave much to be desired. In such cases, it falls on the personal funds of the Crown to cut through the red tape and do what must be done." Orzel looked to have a better grip of herself, and that was heartening, but as with so many other topics Celestia could see there were many questions buzzing around the girl's mind.

"Why not just fix the bureaucracy?" The teen's voice trailed off at the end, and Celestia watched her shake her head with a modest grown of annoyance. "That would require the bureaucracy to want to be fixed, would it not?" Celestia nodded sagely, pleased to see that Orzel was getting a better grasp as to why certain things were the way they were. The woman knew that her niece's mask of apathy likely concealed a sense of deep frustration, her sensibilities towards efficiency and productivity had to be somewhat instigated.

The gears of Equestria's bureaucracy turned at a slow but steady pace, and the people responsible for lubricating those gears were the bureaucrats themselves... If the system became easier to navigate, those people would find themselves no longer necessary, which would result in them losing very lucrative positions. At the same time, making things too difficult ran the risk of them losing their jobs in response to public outcry, and so a delicate balance of inefficiency was maintained. As with the National Council, that particular part of Equestria's government was formulated when the country was considerably smaller. Celestia knew a fix might be found without the aid of the bureaucrats, if someone took the time to do a proper examination of the system, but the mechanisms with which to implement such a solution were so complex and archaic that many still made references to knights, damsels, and the odd jester or two...

"That's indeed a part of the issue, but we must also take into account the Nobility. Not just actual Nobles, those that hold titles, but those who regardless of title wield their own vast personal wealth." Celestia continued, leaning back in her seat. It was around this time that the server returned, carrying a fairly large tray of food, each plate shielded from view by a silvery cover. "This is a prime example." Celestia stated, gesturing to the tray being set before Orzel, its cover removed shortly after. "They expect the Crown to be appointed with fanciful things, and will make the implementation of policy difficult if they feel the Crown doesn't represent their ideals, as you may recall... Money, therefore, is vital to playing that role as well."

Celestia knew already that Orzel was intimately familiar with this particular concept. Bill 250 had seen an end to many of those obstructive abilities in practice, but certain mindsets would nonetheless persist well into the future. The woman took a moment to examine Orzel's choice of meal, though perhaps 'feast' would be the more appropriate word. Two soft boiled eggs, accompanied by a large bowl of rice, what amounted to maybe three pounds of cooked salmon, at least half a dozen kielbasa, a large pile of ham, four pieces of buttered toast, tomatoes, sliced cheese, and... Cucumber? In keeping with the topic of conversation, such a spread would ironically be viewed by the Nobility as a tad excessive. In their view, however, excessive was better than underdone.

"This is mine, get your own!" Orzel snapped suddenly, harshly, shocking Celestia with the hostility of her tone. The girl quickly raised an apologetic hand and looked at the table, cheeks flushing with evident shame and embarrassment. "I am so sorry, Aunt Celestia... I do not know what came over me." The girl picked up one of the plates of kielbasa and offered it to Celestia, but the woman simply shook her head. "I... Will do my best to adhere to your economic exercise..."

There was something going on here, something more, as Celestia earlier expected. Orzel typically had the appetite of a bird, and seeing her finish her plate at dinner was a rare sight, even when she opted for a small serving. Now she was tearing through her meal, shoveling heaping piles of rice or barely manageable chunks of meat into her mouth. Beyond the fangs jutting past her lip, Celestia saw that her niece's dentition was now leaning more heavily towards the carnivorous.

On more than one occasion, Celestia had the distinct opportunity to dine with Drakes, typically during trade or peace negotiations, and it'd been an eye opening experience. This, likewise, opened her eyes to the fact that there was indeed something profoundly different about her niece... With the exception of Spike, she'd never known a Drake before their first Elemental Transformation, but the Draconic Institute assured her that Orzel would remain more or less the same person after, with perhaps a few exceptions. In the Dragonlands, the Elemental Transformation typically happened after a young Drake reached full maturity, but could manifest early if they encountered danger outside the protection of its parents' lair.

That first transformation was a signal to the body to begin altering brain chemistry and physiology, an evolutionary response to the child entering a new and fundamentally dangerous world, where everything and everyone was a potential threat, where predators wouldn't hesitate to kill them without provocation or restraint. The Drake's metabolism skyrocketed, their musculature and overall durability became even more pronounced, and their fight or flight instincts skewed almost invariably towards the violent extreme of 'Fight', likely leading to Orzel's earlier protectiveness of her breakfast.

The teen already felt that the world was filled with danger to begin with, so Celestia could only imagine what it'd be like when those instincts were further amplified. Instincts that would be perfectly acceptable in the Dragonlands would not be met with such open arms by a populace already averse to Orzel's presence. Celestia would liken it to putting a yoke on a wild bull and attempting to plow a field... The work would be exceedingly time consuming, and much more likely to get the proverbial farmer gored in the process. Perhaps that was why Orzel seemed so out of sorts?

"Orzel..." Celestia spoke up, the conversation having entered a lull as soon as the girl began to wolf down her breakfast. This seemed as good a time as any to discuss Celestia's suspicions, and knowing Orzel would have trouble bringing it up on her own, it was likely best to just come out and say it. "You know that I'll listen if you have anything you want to talk about, right? Anything you might not want to discuss with your Mother?" The girl froze, her eyes darting away from her plate and glaring at Celestia, and yet in that glare the woman also saw conflict... After a few tense moments, the girl closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"It was difficult to maintain control of my emotions before, but now... Now I am not certain as to whether I can continue to do so. Not without help... Help that I fear even Doctor Scratch cannot provide." Explained Orzel, keeping her eyes closed and her features relaxed. Celestia hummed in understanding, having expected as much. "I have been attempting to teach myself meditation, yet I fear that in this instance I lack the ability to instruct myself adequately... I want to seek guidance at the nearest Temple of Lexicos... I assume you know what that is?" That, however, was entirely unexpected... Celestia was honestly stunned silent, though she did her best to hide this fact when Orzel opened her eyes again.

"To be honest, I only learned of Lexicos recently." Celestia's admission didn't seem to phase the teen, who by now managed to restore her cold demeanor in its entirety. "You know you don't have to have to 'control' your emotions all the time? It's okay to express yourself..." Orzel just stared at her, Celestia got the impression a brick wall would've been more receptive to that idea, so she moved on. "You're certain you wish to seek this help at a temple? I know you aren't so keen on spirituality, and there are bound to be plenty of experts in meditation without that facet..." The woman paused. "I'm not trying to dissuade you, I just... Want to understand." Orzel stared at Celestia for a few moments, long enough that Celestia feared the girl wouldn't answer at all, until finally she simply nodded her head.

"It is true, my faith in things such as divine intervention is diminished, but..." Orzel started, only to trail off and look around the dining room, apparently searching for peering ears. "That does not mean I do not believe in the possibility of a higher power, nor do I desire an entirely secular life... It is a matter I have discussed with Doctor Scratch, and she was encouraging." The girl briefly held up a portion of loose fabric on her headscarf, which dangled slightly past her shoulders. "I admit, I began wearing this for a multitude of reasons, but lately...? It is a placeholder, as much as I have grown attached." She folded her hands in her lap. "I believed in Vindicta because that is who I was told to believe in. Now that I live in Equestria, I have the right to pursue a faith of my own choosing, without fear of reprisal..." She trailed off. "Or, so I have been told."

In the silence that followed, Celestia once again could only stare at her niece, pondering the girl's words carefully. Once again, in theory, there should've been no issue for Orzel... She was a legal alien, and even if she wasn't, the right to worship freely would nonetheless be applied to her. Regardless of what the constitution said, as per usual, the Crown was expected to live by different unwritten rules. There was no precedent for a member of the Royal Family that practiced religion of any kind, let alone the worship of the Draconic Goddess of Knowledge. Even considering the widely secular nature of Equestria, it would've been an easier sell if Orzel took an interest in Faust, or any of the other Gods in the Equestrian pantheon.

Piercing's recent revelation as to the actual identity of Lexicos also lingered in Celestia's mind, and the ties between the now venerated Ancient One and Orzel's ancestors were sure to be eventually revealed. There was also a far more complicated issue to be considered, that being the prospect of a member of the Crown possibly being manipulated through their faith. On that front Celestia doubted that there was much to be concerned over, Orzel already understood that risk through her experience with the Vindictan Church. Her niece would not suffer such attempts at interfering with her rule lightly, regardless of where they came from... The Equestrian public, or at least the people in Canterlot, likely wouldn't be quite so open minded...

"I take it that by asking me, you've already found a temple, and that you don't want your Mother to know." Celestia deduced distantly, and was unsurprised by Orzel's nod. "You know that it won't be easy if this comes out to the public, we have no way of knowing how people might react...?" She could see a brief flash of betrayal in Orzel's eyes, and the girl quickly moved as if she intended to stand up and leave. Celestia reached out, placing a hand on her nieces shoulder once more, keeping her from departing just yet. "I am not saying no, Orzel... This is just a path I admit I know little about. I'll help you as best I can..." Orzel stopped trying to leave, settling down in her chair as Celestia withdrew her hand.

From there breakfast resumed in earnest, and Celestia decided to take the opportunity to speak with Orzel further on the various heavy topics they'd discussed. On the topic of Temple of Lexicos, the two agreed that Orzel would accompany Celestia on one of her fund-raising trips into Canterlot. They'd use Celestia's teleportation magic to discretely make a detour to the temple on the way back, where Orzel would hopefully get a chance to speak with someone about her questions and the possibility of integrating into the Lexican community.

While not a religious person by any definition of the world, Celestia nonetheless found it comforting that her niece had taken such an interest. The girl was putting down roots, taking steps to solidify Equestria as her new home in more than name... That she was seeking to exit the castle of her own volition was also heartening. Hopefully it would signal the end of the teen's reputation as a recluse, or at the very least be a step in the right direction... If it helped the girl to get better control of her anxiety, or somehow find a new way to deal with it, so much the better. Luna likely wouldn't see it that way, it was hard for her not to worry, not to see any change as a sign of the negative.

From there they moved on to the topic of what Orzel planned to do with the money she'd receive, and once again Celestia was encouraged, this time because she learned that her niece intended to acquire a proper workshop. Rather than building one on Castle grounds, she'd seek out an existing property, somewhere secluded and quiet, where she could work without interruption. It would unfortunately prove easier said than done...

While adult non-citizens were more than welcome to purchase land in Equestria, those that were under the age of eighteen were prohibited from doing so. Typically citizenship would've been granted automatically upon Orzel's adoption by Luna, but as Orzel had arrived in Equestria by magical means not accounted for in any of the existing laws...? Well... Even in the context of Equestria's bureaucracy, that complicated things. Celestia knew a means by which that law could be bypassed, at least until Orzel was old enough to become a naturalized citizen, so her desire for a workshop wouldn't be completely hampered by red tape. It was a technicality, not necessarily in the spirit of the law, but well within the letter. It'd easily be written off as a minor example, considering the vast extent of other such technicalities were utilized by citizens from all walks of Equestrian life.

What Orzel intended to make in her workshop once she actually acquired it was something the girl spoke of only in vague terms, describing them only as 'more advanced gizmos and gadgets'. Celestia suspected the vagueness had something to do with a certain facet of Orzel's ancestors that Piercing spoke of. Luna would undoubtedly worry about that development as well, and admittedly with good reason. Most parents probably couldn't handle the idea of their child making weapons or armor, and Celestia wasn't all that keen on the idea either. Orzel seemed like such a conflicted soul already, and it was hard to imagine her making anything that could actually harm someone.

Then again, there were plenty of people in Equestria whose special talent involved those fields. Gunsmiths, blacksmiths, armorers. All got their cutie marks just like everyone else. From Celestia's point of view, it was better to have at least some idea of what was going on rather than have Orzel work entirely in secret. Safeguards could be put in place which would still allow the girl the independence to research and invent whatever she wanted, while at the same time minimizing the overall risk to herself or anyone around her...

That brought them to the lighter side of breakfast, where Orzel somewhat awkwardly asked Celestia if she wouldn't mind sending a message to Ponyville. A letter, which she'd happened to carry with her in one of the pockets of her robes. Given the lengths she went to in order to hide her feelings, it made it all the more adorable to Celestia when Orzel shyly explained the recipient would be 'Mister Spike'. Of course the woman didn't remark on just how much her niece was blushing, she didn't want to make the girl feel worse, not after their earlier 'heart to heart' conversation. There was a time not that long ago when the very idea of writing to someone unsolicited might've paralyzed the girl. It was yet another sign to Celestia that Orzel was not only recovering, but actually beginning to thrive...

From there on they continued to chit-chat, that alone caused breakfast to last well into the morning. In time they'd need to get ready to depart, as the fundraiser was scheduled for around noon. In addition to providing an excuse for Orzel to explore her questions about faith, Celestia also hoped to turn the outing into one aimed at bettering Orzel's public image in Canterlot, perhaps even allow her to meet some of her peers. On second thought, Celestia suspected she might've been expecting too much at the moment. This was just one of hopefully many baby steps... Who knew what strides her niece might make, if given enough time?

"This won't end well..." Spike groaned tiredly, watching from the doorway of Golden Oak Library as Twilight Sparkle hurried off towards the heart of Ponyville. The bespectacled librarian was in the midst of one of her 'episodes', panicking over the fact she hadn't written Princess Celestia a friendship report. The tightly wound spell-caster was therefore off to 'find a problem' to fix, leaving Spike behind once again to deal with the library's daily operation. Typically not an issue, except for today, as the library's book return chute was always particularly full on Tuesdays. Add to that the fact he was still tired from waking up early to help pick up a package of cupcakes, and Spike found himself atypically overwhelmed.

With Twilight gone off in search of her marbles, the duty of re-shelving all the returns fell to Spike. As usual it would prove a headache as, unlike Twilight, he had no means of doing so with magic. Spike quietly set to work, taking the returned books from the chute and organizing them by the decimal system Twilight was so fond of. The smell of paper and old leather were heavy in the air, and the light from the windows cast an ethereal glow upon the dancing particles. Most of the books were works of fiction, romance novels and copies of the latest 'Daring Do' novel, the latter of which Spike hadn't yet had the opportunity to read. They were easy enough to put away, as they were situated on a relatively low level shelf. The other books, those of non-fiction, would prove far more troublesome.

It was monotonous work, but nothing he wasn't used to. In truth he preferred to be on his own, despite the tedious task bestowed upon him. The boring nature of the work left him plenty of time for introspection, and lately he'd been needing more and more of that. Heartache was chief on his mind, though he remained externally strong, inwardly it was proving difficult to come to grips with certain... Unpleasant realities. He'd always suspected such a reality might present itself, he just hadn't expected it to happen so abruptly. Up until a few days ago, he'd regarded the Grand Galloping Gala as a resoundingly positive event, his meeting and conversation with Princess Orzel having given him hope for some sort of friendship with her.

His opinion of the night changed considerably after Rarity let slip she was 'seeing someone' she met there. She was his friend, Spike should've been happy for her... He was, albeit a muted sort of joy, as he came to grips with the resounding crushing destruction of his... Crush. Rarity was a sophisticated and refined woman, at least nine years his senior, if not more. She deserved to be with a man that could live up to those sorts of standards... Not that Spike couldn't be refined, he was just... Well, a 'kid'... Hard as that was to admit. Things were made all the more difficult by the fact that this was one problem he had to deal with on his own.

It wasn't like Spike could discuss these feelings with Twilight, or any of her friends for that matter. He trusted them to be discrete, but he doubted there wouldn't be some snickering or laughter on their part... The boy was certain that if he did open up, and they laughed, or didn't take it seriously, he might very well just... Lose it. There were few things that riled him as much as not being taken seriously. Moreover, where before the man had been a font of knowledge and wisdom, in this case Big Macintosh wasn't of much help either. He was too busy preparing his orchard for winter, especially after the chocolate rain...

In time, Spike suspected he'd get over Rarity, eventually, but that was little comfort in the present... For now he'd just need to bite the bullet and take his lumps in silence. Be a man. Speaking of little comfort, or rather discomfort, Spike was noting a distinctly familiar burning sensation in his stomach. On instinct he turned his head away from anything flammable, no easy feat considering he was inside a hollowed out tree filled with dozens of flammable papers and books.

A whoosh of green flames erupted from the dragon's lips, barely missing a pile of loosely organized romance novels. The fire condensed upon itself, swirling into a bright rectangle of light before ultimately producing a neatly folded envelope. Spike snatched the missive before it could fall to the floor, somewhat perplexed as to its nature. Celestia was old fashioned, preferring rolled up scrolls to envelopes, so that begged the question as to just who this message was from.

The envelope itself smelled oddly aromatic, a strange bouquet, not unlike the alchemical ingredients utilized by Ponyville's apothecary. His name, or rather 'Mister Spike', was written on one side in a hand he didn't recognize. The flap of the envelope was sealed with bronze colored wax, atypical of the red horseshoe indicative of Princess Celestia's privy seal. This seal displayed a dragon wearing a crown, clutching a wrench in one claw and a scroll in the other. It was an emblem he fondly recalled, that which he'd seen on Princess Orzel's crown. Briefly the boy wondered if the girl somehow had the ability to read his mind, seeing as he'd been thinking of her only a few minutes before.

Curious, and slightly apprehensive as to what the envelope contained, Spike broke the seal and withdrew a sheet of paper. It was meticulously folded in three places, as if whomever wrote it took great care to ensure each section was as even as possible. That further cemented in his mind just who was responsible for the message, as he couldn't think of anyone other than Twilight that might match Princess Orzel in overall fastidiousness. Abandoning the task of re-shelving for the moment, the boy took the letter upstairs towards his rather small bedroom.

Given how Spike was getting older, the idea of sleeping in the same room as Twilight became less and less appropriate. His room wasn't much to look at, having at one time actually been a broom closet, illuminated at present by a small window. He nearly tripped on a pile of dirty clothes, just barely managing to catch himself. His bed was a mess of uncoordinated blankets and haphazardly tossed pillows, and his desk wasn't that much better. It was a cheap flimsy thing, left behind by the library's former occupant.

A gray primed figurine sat waiting beside a motley assortment of modeling paints, this one being just one of many in Spike's collection of various plastic minis. This one was, fittingly, a Princess. Intended to serve as an important NPC in one of Spike's upcoming sessions... He'd yet to decide on a color palette, perhaps something in gold? The boy took a seat in his rickety swivel chair, tentatively reclining as he once more examined the folded letter. His thoughts about miniature painting were just his attempts at putting off reading the letter, he knew that...

He'd gotten plenty of letters from Celestia, but none of them ever addressed directly to him... Well, aside from her invitation to the Gala. Nervously biting his lip, Spike sighed heavily through his nose. Outside his window he could hear chirping birds, the bustle of town... The contents of the letter could've been anything, not necessarily good things. Perhaps having to do with Twilight's recent 'vacation'? The one that she insisted on not discussing while he was around... Another reason he'd felt reluctant to go to her with his 'Rarity' problem. Once again, Spike decided the best thing to do was just bite the bullet. With that in mind, he unfolded the letter and commenced to reading it in earnest.

Mister Spike,

I hope this letter finds you well, I regret having had to bid you farewell with such abruptness on our last meeting. I admit, I am just as unfamiliar in the writing of personal letters as I am with large social functions. Events in Canterlot continue to try my patience, and I am told that it is often helpful to discuss such matters with friends. We are not well acquainted enough to be 'true friends', at least not yet... I would like to remedy that fact, and become your friend, if you would be willing to count me as such.

Spike read the letter and breathed a hearty sigh of relief, he hadn't even realized he'd been holding his breath. Each character of every word was precisely measured to an almost mechanical degree, yet there were enough variations that he knew this hadn't come from a typewriter. The handwriting still managed to flow gracefully in Equestrian cursive, although many of the letters displayed obvious draconic flourishes, the closest Spike could think of to a written version of an 'accent'. It was so distinct that he could almost hear the Princess's voice, speaking in his head.

It is difficult for me to trust people, at least those not within my family. This naturally makes it difficult for me to interact with other book lovers, and while I know you do not share my level of obsession for literature, you nonetheless interact with the written word on a regular basis. It would please me greatly to converse further with you on that subject, or... Any subject, really. I also must admit, I am... Lonely. I would love to know more about your other interests, of course. How do you feel about tabletop games? I have a fondness for Kriegsplan, though I am told there are many others... As I said, however, I have few people to play them with.

Reading further, Spike's earlier gloomy thoughts about Rarity were briefly set aside, supplanted by a surprising sensation of elation. Not only had the Princess reached out to him, she wanted to continue talking to him, wanted to know more about him and his interests. That desire wasn't in and of itself unusual for someone wanting to be his friend, but given this 'someone' was Equestria's future sovereign...? It also might've been because he'd be getting to befriend someone that would understand him better, who understood just how much of a struggle it was to fit in among normal Equestrians.

'I have so few things to look forward to here, and a letter from you would likely prove a singularly bright spot in my otherwise overcast day-to-day. I eagerly await your response, Mister Spike, and hope that our correspondence becomes a regular affair.

Cordially yours, Orzel z Glosem-Smoka'

Her signature was the only deviation from the letter's orderly formatting, a distinctly extroverted flourish. Large, flowing, elegant... Just as a Princess's signature ought to be. It was joined by a red rubber stamp, almost identical to that which had sealed the envelope, with the addition of that days date and several words in a dialect of draconic Spike couldn't decipher. He was tempted then and there to pen his reply, but what was it he would say, exactly? The thought of saying something wrong, possibly even offending the Princess, was... Terrifying. He could somewhat better understand just why Twilight was so worried today, even if it didn't send him off on his own weird sort of 'problem quest'. Spike shook his head, reining in the anxiety and setting his jaw. Just as he'd counseled Twilight, he had to have faith that Princess Orzel wouldn't hold any minor mistakes against him.

These thoughts were broken with the familiar sound of someone knocking on the front door downstairs. It appeared, fortunately for his nerves, that a response to the Princess would need to wait. That was probably for the best, it'd give him time to gather his thoughts. Leaving the letter on his desk, the boy straightened his t-shirt and made his way downstairs, mulling over just what it was he was going to say. The Princess asked him about games, and mentioned something called Kriegsplan, which Spike understood to be a more complicated and 'realistic' Griffon proto-version of 'Contingency: Global Conflict'. War games set in the modern era weren't really Spike's scene, though he'd dabbled in the aforementioned 'Contingency'... Maybe the Princess would be interested in 'Ogres and Oubliettes'? More knocking interrupted Spike's thoughts, and with an exasperated sigh he approached the front door.

"It's a public library, y'know? You don't need to..." Spike began, opening the door, only to stop upon sighting a rather familiar woman. Rarity stood, resplendent as always, in a white button down blouse and black slacks, additionally clad in a white wool coat to shield her from the cooling Autumn air. Her violet hair was coiffed stylishly, her eyes sparkling in the late morning light. "Knock." The boy finished, slightly sheepishly, only to abruptly change gears. "Hey, Rarity! What's up?" Spike managed to muster a cheerful greeting, though his face betrayed the half-heartedness.

"Oh, hello Spike! I just was wondering if Twilight was here." Rarity explained as Spike stepped aside, allowing the woman to step into the still slightly disorganized library. "She came by my shop a few minutes ago and seemed a tad... Off. Didn't give any reason as to why, so I thought I'd come check on her." Spike quickly gathered up several of novels on the library's central table, returning to his earlier task of re-shelving whilst Rarity peeked around the room.

"She's worried about one of the items on her checklist, I don't know if she'd want me talking about it... I'm betting on her tiring herself out, then she'll come to her senses." Spike explained, earning a bemused chuckle from Rarity, who in addition to looking over the box containing the cupcakes they'd gathered earlier that morning, also seemed to note the empty envelope from Princess Orzel. Rarity picked it up before Spike could get to it, first examining his name with evident fascination, then looking at the broken wax seal. "Uh... Twilight's obviously not here. Don't you have to be getting ready for the picnic?" Spike tried to sound nonchalant, but Rarity merely looked at him, grinning a Cheshire grin that sent a jolt of uncertainty down his spine.

"Of course, dear, just... Indulge my curiosity for a moment..." The woman offered, holding up the envelope with a raised eyebrow. "No formal address, plus the design of the wax seal. I can only deduce this is from Canterlot..." The woman paused to sniff the envelope, and Spike inadvertently blushed. "Add to that what smells like perfume and your flushing cheeks... Methinks it contained a letter from a certain Crown Princess, and not one of the 'formal' sort either." Spike quickly snatched the envelope, tucking it into the back pocket of his jeans. "Relax, I suspected something between the two of you. Given how you looked together at the Gala, a very handsome couple." Spike quickly shook his head, doing his best to conceal the ongoing flush to his cheeks

"It's not like that! Not at all! She just... Sent me a letter." Spike explained, but Rarity's grin remained. "A totally platonic letter." The boy emphasized, though in truth he wasn't entirely sure of that. The Princess had referred to their future correspondence as an 'affair', after all. Then again, Spike might've been reading too deeply into that. Of course Rarity would be the one to discover the envelope, especially given how Spike was still coming to grips with her own relationship. It was just shaping up to be that sort of day... "I don't want to talk about it, okay? She just... She's just looking for a friend." Rarity's grin lost its teasing edge, softening into something more understanding, the sort of look that Spike knew well.

"I'm sorry, darling... I'd no intention of making you upset, I'm just happy to see you talking to a girl your own age. Whatever your relationship is with the Princess, she is lucky to have it with you." The woman offered, patting him on the shoulder. "I know it can't be easy for you to find people like that here in Ponyville, at least people who aren't related to the Elements of Harmony, especially seeing as certain announcements on my part have been... Difficult for you." Spike couldn't hide his surprise at that, as he'd always done his best to remain discrete. This only earned him another chuckle from Rarity, who playfully pinched his cheek.

"Come now, you really think a master seamstress wouldn't have an eye for noticing details?" Rarity added, tucking her hands into her coat pockets. Spike sheepishly shrugged, rubbing at the back of his neck, his cheeks turning an even deeper red. How could they not? He was absolutely mortified to discover his 'hidden' crush wasn't so hidden. "You're a sweet boy, Spike. I'm flattered, really..." Hearing those words soothed some of his tension, even in the face of so much embarrassment. Taking a few calming breaths, Spike straightened his posture and cleared his throat.

"Promise you won't tell Twilight about the letter? Or anyone, for that matter..." Spike asked cautiously, recalling what the Princess's letter said about trust. He doubted Twilight, or anyone of her friends for that matter, would do anything bad... That didn't mean they might not tell someone else who wouldn't be so discrete, and the last thing Spike wanted was to make problems for Princess Orzel with the people in Canterlot... Or, rather, more problems... "I'd prefer to keep certain parts of my private life private, y'know?" Rarity nodded, smiling serenely.

"I won't tell a soul." Rarity swore, crossing her heart before returning her hands to her jacket pockets. "Now, you were right earlier. I've got to be going. There's a picnic to prepare for, and I've yet to finish my latest project. Do try to find Twilight, will you? Maybe seeing all of us later will help her 'come to her senses', as you said. At the very least, it'll give us a chance to maybe talk her off of the proverbial ledge." Spike smiled at the request, nodding in acceptance as Rarity started towards the door. "I'll see you later!"

Spike's continuing heartache was replaced by something bittersweet as he watched her go, it came shortly after the revelation that she'd at least known about his feelings for her. Rarity was still his friend, Spike doubted there was anything that would change that, but it was clear now that his suspicions of never having a shot with her were true. Pursing his lips, the teen resumed putting away his current arm load of books, listening until he heard the door close behind Rarity. The boy exhaled another tense sigh after she was gone, carrying on with his task while his mind worked through... Everything.

Spike was getting older, his seventeenth birthday being right around the corner, and that meant he needed to start acting accordingly. While he had a fair grip on controlling his emotions, his understanding of those emotions remained widely... Superficial. That bittersweet heartache was burning him up inside, gnawing at his sense of control, but as always he'd just put on a brave face. Bite the bullet... Be a man... Those were fast becoming his mottos, the mottos he heard espoused by the heroes of his favorite radio plays, or in the pages of the many fantasy novels he'd read, or the hard working men of Ponyville.

One thing was certain... Even having received a letter from a prospective friend, the day was still shaping up to be the worst day since... Well... Yesterday. Yet another tense sigh resonated throughout the empty library. The more he thought about it all, the more it seemed to drag his thoughts down, sinking into a mental swamp of silent misery. After completing his current stack of books, Spike swiftly ditched the envelope in his room, hiding it and the letter in the sock drawer of his dresser. On his way back downstairs he grabbed the box of cupcakes and made his way outside, pausing only to turn the 'OPEN' sign in the window to 'CLOSED'... Twilight would probably lose her mind if people came into a library left totally unsupervised, or at the very least lose her mind more than she'd already lost it.

A sudden and nearly deafening explosion echoed through town, almost knocking Spike flat on his keester, clearing his head of thoughts about Rarity or the Princess for several merciful seconds... For a few moments the boy feared Ponyville to be under attack, at least until he spotted a billowing rainbow colored mushroom cloud rising from the edge of town. It seemed most of the people around him came to the same conclusion, whatever it was likely had to do with Rainbow Dash, so no sudden outbreak of panic was forthcoming. Spike had an inkling Twilight might've had a hand in whatever caused such a big explosion, so he decided that walking towards the source of the blast was probably his best chance at finding her. Hopefully that'd be the only potentially destructive thing to happen today...

Orzel and Celestia's trip into Canterlot went about as well as the girl dared hope, though to be fair she considered anything short of a riot to be a resounding success. The fundraiser was her first public appearance since the launch and christening of ESS Sokol, and her proximity both to her Aunt and the philanthropic cause it supported seemed to better endear her to the people in attendance. It wasn't easy, of course, as the entire function was filled with members of the Noble Party... They were characteristically passive aggressive throughout the event, and the entire situation proved spiritually taxing for the young Princess. That made it all the more fortunate that the true purpose of the outing was in the pursuit of answering questions about spirituality.

Celestia for her part was dressed plainly, her typically flowing ethereal hair constrained now to simple pink, so as to not draw unwanted attention. Orzel likewise had changed out of the dress she'd been forced to wear for the fundraiser, returning to the simple gray robes she'd taken to wearing during meditation. Looking at the two of them, it'd seem remarkably unlikely that either held a title as lofty as Princess. Of course, the considerable but unseen cadre of Nocturne Agents likewise ensured no one would get too close.

This portion of the city, known colloquially as 'Little Ognyagrad', was home to a modest enclave of Drake merchants. Its placement near the Draconic Institute also made it an ideal place for students of that hallowed institution to live and commute, and it was these aspiring scholars that made up the majority of its permanent residents. The Drakes themselves were a more transient group. Those living in Little Ognyagrad, Equestrian and Drake alike, were a deeply spiritual and traditional people. To that end that, both Princesses found themselves standing among rather odd structures... Odd for Canterlot, at any rate.

For Orzel, it was almost as if she'd stepped into a drawing of Cesarski... Everything was just a little bit different, the motifs just a little bit off. The Temple of the Lexican Orthodoxy stood out considerably, situated as it was among the otherwise unassuming shops and apartment buildings. Here it was hauntingly quiet, despite a close proximity to the Institute and an already bustling city. So quiet, in fact, that Orzel suspected some sort of sound dampening enchantment to be at work... If only she could've looked the area over for runes.

Much as she was tempted to do so, she wasn't here to satisfy that spur of the moment curiosity. Her eyes flitted back to the surprisingly large building ahead of her, given how obscure the Lexican Orthodoxy was, she hadn't expected Canterlot's temple to be as large as it was. Then again, here in Little Ognyagrad, it probably wasn't all that obscure. She'd yet to encounter any other Drakes, likely on account of the Nocturne Agents, but that would likely change the moment she entered the Temple... They couldn't follow her inside, after all.

Primarily constructed of red bricks, and characterized by a distinctly pentagonal footprint, the temple was several stories tall and more resembled a miniaturized star fort than it did a place of worship. Orzel rather admired its geometric exterior, which displayed a most beautiful blend of the utilitarian with the artistic. While most of the walls were occupied by large stained glass windows, certain sections displayed wonderfully painted murals. Not only of religious images, but of mathematical equations, tips about gardening, even basic Arcane principles. The murals were evidently cared for regularly so as to provide their knowledge freely to any and all that might just happen to wander by. Orzel had expected as much...

Each corner of the pentagon was elaborately decorated with collections of polished white soapstones, all arrayed so as to mimic the layout of a fort's individual lunettes. Each stone garden was in turn dominated by stout octagonal brick pavilions, topped by tarnished bronze onion-esque domes. A strong smell of frankincense and sage wafted from their open windows, with wisps of whitish-gray smoke being carried away on the afternoon breeze. In some ways, Orzel was reminded of the Temple of Vindicta, but then again, most temples in the Empire shared common elements of design. The girl expected she'd find numerous small shrines within the pavilions, each likely venerating a tenet of the Lexican Orthodoxy... At least if they held to those common elements.

Orzel pursed her lips, the similarities between this temple and that of those in her Old World raised a lot of questions, questions she hoped she might find answered within. Celestia hadn't said two words since they'd arrived, which Orzel took to mean she was allowing the girl to soak everything in. There was something in the air beyond the smoldering aromatics, something much more difficult to pin down... Orzel's typical anxiety was more or less holding steady, despite the ultimately new experience that awaited her. While she'd ardently snubbed ideas of spirits, ghosts, and other such terms in the past, there was something here... She couldn't quite explain it, but she almost felt... Centered. Perhaps it was another unseen enchantment, but she was leaning more towards the idea that it was the spiritual nature of the place, and her own mindset of wanting to accept it, that gave her pause.

Science was still her prime gospel, and that was why she hoped she'd find some answer here. The way things were changing, the severity of her Elemental Transformation... All indicated she couldn't rely on facts alone when it came to matters of the heart, or the soul... She still believed in souls... She'd never stopped believing, she just... Couldn't. Whether those souls manifested themselves as 'spirits' or 'ghosts' was a wholly different matter, yet even in that instance... She found her mind surprisingly open.

"Well, we're here..." Celestia tentatively broke the silence, clasping her hands behind her back. "Are you sure you don't want me to come in with you?" Orzel briefly considered turning her down, to assure the woman that she'd be fine... At the same time, given how she figured her Mother might react at the news of her secretly visiting the temple, it was probably prudent that she have Celestia along. If her Aunt was present, and saw that Orzel was perfectly fine, it might convince Luna to relax... At the very least it'd lessen the woman's nervousness.

"I would, actually..." Orzel began, taking a moment to adjust her headscarf. Celestia smiled warmly, but the girl quickly put her hands on her hips. "Just... Do not interfere, that is all I ask." Her Aunt nodded in acceptance, and with that brief acceptance of the teen's terms, Orzel took the first step off the sidewalk, onto a path of pave stones that led towards the temple entrance. It was a short walk, shorter than Orzel expected at any rate. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Aunt Celestia still with her, keeping pace behind her.

The Princess turned her attention back to the temple itself, quietly adjusting her headscarf and straightening her spectacles. The temple doors were plated in the same oxidizing bronze as the pavilion roofs, displaying on their surface a striking bas relief of a hooded robed womanly form, her arms outstretched over a crowd of non-descript people. For a few moments Orzel was reminded of the visions she'd seen during her meditation the day before, as well as those she'd seen in her dreams... The women in the robes... Perhaps they had some connection to this place...?

Taking one final calming breath, the teen reached out and pulled open the heavy temple door. Together she and Celestia stepped through into a significantly darker atrium, allowing the door to close softly behind them. The atrium was smaller than Orzel expected, illuminated by candlelight only, with dozens of white votive candles occupying candelabras, a chandelier, and wall sconces... The walls themselves were constructed from rough-cut slabs of basalt, inset with evenly spaced alcoves, where even more candles flickered.

A distant choral chant echoed throughout the chamber, with a considerable amount of reverb fostered by the vaulted ceiling, a ceiling which was painted to depict the same hooded woman on the temple doors, albeit in more vibrant colors. Orzel tentatively stepped forward, peering into one of the alcoves and spotting a small statuette, again, not unlike that of the bas relief. Curious, she examined it more closely, finding that the statuette lacked a face... Much like those figures she'd seen in her mind. Celestia likewise silently inspected the figurine, looking over Orzel's shoulder.

"Welcome-" A man's voice suddenly spoke from behind, startling them both enough to jump. Turning around to face the source of the noise, hearts pounding in their chests, both Princesses were greeted by a rather pale fellow...

He was of average height, but possessed an impressive belly, which made him seem stouter. Like Orzel's, his robes were simple in overall form. The fabric was a deep crimson, accented by a repeating white rectangular pattern about the cuffs, hood, seams, and other such fabric edges, not unlike the teeth of a cog. A gold chain around his neck displayed a rectangular pendant, likely crafted from soapstone or pearl, inset in a gold backing. The man's face was remarkably plain... Chubby, almost cherubic, and wreathed in a bushy russet brown beard. He presented an apologetic smile, pressed his palms together, then bowed his head.

"Forgive me for startling you..." He stated humbly, raising his head and clasping his hands across his considerable gut. While he was obviously an Equestrian, the man nonetheless spoke with a faint Draconic accent. "I am Brother Solanum, the Keeper of the Temple Grounds..." The man patted his chest, then gestured to the two Princess. "I mean no offense, but... Are you lost...?" Orzel blinked for a few moments, quickly sorting through his words before shaking her head, then looked at Celestia. The woman merely looked back at her... Right... She wasn't going to interfere....

"No, we are not lost..." Orzel clasped her hands behind her back, approaching Brother Solanum with eminent caution. "I am interested in learning more about your faith..." The girl inclined her head towards Celestia, then swapped to Draconic. "This is my Aunt, she is merely accompanying me to observe." She hoped she'd pronounced the words right. While Szafirian and Draconic were remarkably similar, the latter lacked a lot of the 'complexity' she associated with the former... Add to that she was still learning, and she suspected she might've been difficult to understand.

Solanum at least seemed to get the basic meaning of what she was saying, his expression remaining unchanged... With another respectful nod, he gestured down a hallway that spurred away from the atrium. Illuminated by more of the ubiquitous candles, small smoke pots were affixed to the walls, providing a considerable haze of the equally familiar aromatic herbs. Together, the two Princesses followed his lead, Celestia continuing to walk behind as Orzel and Brother Solanum transited the dimly lit passage.

"I am impressed you are able to speak Draconic, though your consonants are a tad sharp..." The man stated amiably, clasping his hands behind his back. "I suppose I am not surprised." Brother Solanum added in Draconic, his command of the language being far smoother than Orzel's.

Orzel knew that Celestia couldn't understand the language all that well, and she hoped that'd allow her the latitude to ask certain questions she wouldn't be comfortable doing in a more 'Common' tongue. For one thing, the nature of some of her visions, those which she'd neglected to inform anyone of... Unlike Mother, Aunt Celestia was far more difficult to predict, and while Orzel trusted her in most regards, she had no idea how the woman might react to the news that her niece was seeing and feeling strange things... Things that called to her, things that Orzel suspected were urging her even now to explore this temple... As if a part of her, deep down, barely perceptible to her conscious mind, was drawn to this place...

"What matter can the Lexican Orthodoxy assist you with, Princess?" When next he spoke, Brother Solanum's tone of voice was calm and curious, continuing in Draconic from then onwards. Orzel raised an eyebrow, but Brother Solanum chuckled faintly. "I listened to your address at the launch of ESS Sokol. Your accent is... Distinct. Your 'Aunt' is likewise easy to spot, up close." He explained simply, and Orzel had to suppress a frown... Of course it was her accent that gave her away. There was nothing for it now, other than to just come out and say why she was there.

"During the recent crisis, I underwent an Elemental Transformation, at least partially..." Explained Orzel, who was rather pleased to see that Brother Solanum didn't ask what she meant. Given the nature of his faith, however, she supposed it was natural he'd know about Drakes. "Now my emotions are growing more and more beyond my control... I have turned to meditation for assistance, but... I lack the ability to teach myself." Brother Solanum nodded again as the trio slowly continued down the hallway. "During my sessions of meditation I have... Seen things. Things that... Drew me here." The girl added somewhat hesitantly. "I wish to learn more about Lexicos, and about how you meditate." The man stopped then and there, rubbing at his densely bearded chin.

"All are welcome in the pursuit of the truth, child." He stated simply, clasping his hands behind his back, briefly glancing at Celestia. The woman thus far was abiding by her word, standing a few feet behind, apparently unable to understand anything Orzel was saying. "Tell me of these 'things' you have seen. Spare no detail." Orzel looked at the man nervously, stopping amid the hallway. Brother Solanum stood with an expression of serene patience, crossing his arms across his chest and leaning his head back in intrigue.

Summoning her force of will, the Princess explained to him what she'd seen, though it left her feeling quite vulnerable in doing so. The islands and the open plains, the forgotten citadel and the massive libraries... The figure in black robes with the luminous golden eyes, and the figure in white with eyes glowing like emeralds. The bizarre open field of raspberry colored grass, and the Monolith that called her westward. Through it all, Brother Solanum's features remained nigh-implacable, and every now and then Orzel feared that she was saying too much... Then she'd remind herself that the man asked her to spare no detail... She didn't even know why she trusted this man, after all they'd only just met. She just... Had faith.

Brother Solanum's implacability gave way to a look of deep contemplation, and once again Orzel feared she might be told to leave, that she was beyond help... After a few moments he gestured for them to continue walking along the hallway, and so that was exactly what the trio did. In addition to the candles and smoke pots, they also passed more of the small statuettes, as well as a few paintings. While Orzel couldn't be certain, they bore remarkable stylistic resemblance to some of those in the Castle that predated the Nightmare War, each looked to be carefully maintained.

The images themselves appeared to be of scholars, some of whom Orzel recognized from her studies of Equestria's past, others were unknown to her. It was only here that Celestia seemed to show any sign of surprise, apparently brought about by a painting of an odd gangly fellow... While most of the paintings had name plaques beneath them, this one was simply labeled as 'Unknown Scholar'...

"Many of these paintings have been enshrined with the Orthodoxy since before the Nightmare War, they are some of our most priceless relics." Brother Solanum explained, noticing the curiosity of both Princesses. The trio turned a corner, and Orzel spotted another pair of heavy bronze doors ahead of them, from which she could hear the chanting with far more clarity. From here it was also possible to hear the dulcet sounds of a pipe organ. "As for your visions, I believe the Monolith you describe is a sign from Lexicos herself, guiding your path to us..."

"There She bade them to construct a library for the knowledge of all the universe, that one day its contents might be freely given to the world entire." Continued Brother Solanum, the man reciting the words without pause, once more bowing his head. They were words that Orzel herself was familiar with, having just read them the night before... It'd been in the passage about the first followers of Lexicos, her 'First Children'...

"As for the figures you've witnessed, I am afraid that is outside the realm of my expertise. You would be wise to seek the counsel of our visiting Seeker." The group stopped before the doors, and Brother Solanum gave the Princesses another apologetic smile, swapping back to Equestrian. "We are in the beginning of evening services... I must ask that you await their conclusion before speaking with the Seeker. You are both, of course, welcome to join us in prayer." Orzel nodded quietly, rather eager for the chance to observe and even take part in a Lexican prayer service... It was one of the reasons she'd come, after all.

"I would like that..." Agreed Orzel, taking another moment to straighten her head scarf. As she was preparing to address Celestia, however, the room was suddenly illuminated by the golden glow of the elder Princess's magic. A few moments later, Orzel was pleased to see a scroll appear in her Aunt's palm... Hopefully it was a response from Spike. Quickly unfurling the message, Celestia's eyes darted across the page... Moments later, the woman pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing in annoyed frustration. "Is something wrong?" Celestia nodded wordlessly, biting her lower lip.

"A situation has arisen in Ponyville that demands my immediate attention, unfortunately..." The woman explained, using her magic to make the scroll vanish in a puff of white smoke. "I admit, I was hoping I could get a chance to converse with you in Equestrian, Brother Solanum. I've got my own questions, but..." The woman looked at the chubby man with an expression that Orzel couldn't quite discern. "They shall have to wait for now. I'm afraid I have to go. I'll pick you up as soon as I can." Orzel nodded in understanding. By now the many crises that arose throughout Equestria, which in turn demanded the intervention of the Princesses, were becoming par for the course. "I'll see you soon. Love you." Celestia added, hugging Orzel tightly before quickly making her exit. After a few moments, Brother Solanum and Orzel looked at one another, the former expressing concern.

"You are certain you wish to continue without your Aunt's presence?" The man asked earnestly, but Orzel simply nodded, waving a slightly dismissive hand through the still lingering cloud of white smoke. "Very well... Please, follow me."

With that, Brother Solanum opened the doors to the waiting chamber. This allowed the chanting and organ music from within to finally come into clarity, for a few moments Orzel feared she might be overwhelmed. The room beyond was impressive, easily as large as the expansive Castle library, which accounted for the temple's overall extensive footprint. Decorative tables lined the outer walls, upon which rested various artifacts. Numerous receptacles and crimson glasses contained a whole host of the flickering candles. While they provided fair illumination, the overwhelming amount poured through the series of sizable stained glass windows lining the chamber's outer walls, the very same she'd seen from outside.

Half a dozen pews were arrayed in a semi-circle around a large wooden altar, which displayed a large bronze statuette of the same figure Orzel had thus far seen so much of. Two brass smoke pots rested upon the altar, flanking the statuette and filling the air with dense billowing strands of foggy aromatic smoke. Amidst the flickering candles and colorful window light, the smoke brought to the room a beautiful sense of the ethereal. Taken as a whole, the sight filled Orzel with a deep sense of serene wonderment, as if she'd entered into an entirely different world... In a good way this time.

Notably, the altar only rested on a modest stone platform, barely elevated above the floor, a far cry from the towering pulpits from which the Vindictan Priests would preach. The vaulted ceiling was painted with images of a woman robed in crimson, standing in various scenes before large crowds of different people, apparently in the process of teaching them basic mathematics, or alchemy, or magic, and engineering. They were beautiful, colorful, and Orzel suspected she could spend hours just taking them in alone.

Behind the altar there stood a tall burly man, holding a large leather bound tome in one hand while his other was empty and held aloft. Behind him, looming as tall as the ceiling, were the various pipes that allowed the organ to function. The man at the altar was clad in crimson robes, like those of Brother Solanum they depicted the repeating rectangular pattern at the fringes and the like, though in this case they were a distinctly shiny gold. A tall cap, virtually identical to the klobuk typically worn by Vindictan Priests, rested proudly atop his head... A great bushy red beard filled out his face, of such volume and length as to rival that of even Starswirl the Bearded. A pendant nearly identical to that worn by Solanum dangled around his neck, further decorated by the presence of several large rubies.

Brother Solanum urged Orzel onwards into the chamber, leading her forward, to the pew closest to the altar. Walking quietly and respectfully, she took a moment to drink it all in. Between the ongoing choral chant and the beauty of the room, Orzel felt as if she was about to cry. Not from fear, not from sorrow... Here, things were beautiful... Peaceful... Serene... Just what she'd been told worship was supposed to be... There weren't any armed guards, no forced smiles or frightened glances. She didn't feel the need to search the crowd for lurking MIS agents or informants... They were just... People.

The pews were almost packed with men and women, all dressed in hooded robes identical to those of Brother Solanum. As a matter of fact, Orzel was the only one wearing gray robes, which left her feeling somewhat awkward. All those in the pews had their heads tilted forward, their eyes closed, hands clasped together. All were filling the air with the soothing sounds of choral chanting, unaware of Orzel's late arrival... The lyrics of this particular litany were being sung in draconic, and despite the harshness of that tongue, to her ears they still sounded sweet. Composing herself, the girl walked to the front pew and seated herself beside Brother Solanum. There she bowed her own head and lacing her fingers together in her lap, listening to the words as they were sung by the Seeker and those around her.

"We give praise, Lady Lexicos... Mother of knowledge, she who gave birth to the light of truth, and who drives away the chill of ignorance and fear..." The lyrics sounded far better in their native Draconic, as Equestrian didn't really have proper translations for some words. The Seeker's voice carried a distinctly organic draconic accent, the sort that one acquired by having it as one's first language, much like Orzel's.

"We shall not live in fear..." Chorused the rest of the congregation, though at first Orzel's was slightly belated as she'd yet to learn this particular chant. She managed to catch up quickly, at least after listening to a couple verses. With her eyes closed, the Princess continued to follow along in the litany, her thoughts focusing themselves as they'd done in her previous foray into meditation. Once more, she was inundated with flashes of imagery, vast open prairies and rocky mountain tops. At first she stood alone, but as time went on she was eventually joined by the two hooded women...

The woman clad in white was always standing closer than the last time, blazing emerald eyes staring at Orzel with purpose. The woman in black, meanwhile, remained constantly at the girl's side. The soft glow of her golden eyes bestowed a sensation of calm contentment, the sort that helped to set the girl's mind at ease... Once more, Orzel saw the Monolith, but where as before she'd felt pulled towards it, now no such urge presented itself. Somewhere atop the massive slab of stone, impossibly distant beyond her sight, Orzel felt as if someone was watching her... Urging her to dig deeper into her own thoughts...

She decided to heed that insistent coaxing, in the interest of immersing herself into the service, and as she did the images of the Monolith faded into a black abyss. Then, as if she'd stepped on some sort of mental landmine, an explosion of previously unrealized ideas coalesced in her mind. She was seeing snapshots of diagrams, mathematical equations, even alchemical recipes... Ideas she'd thought of only in the vaguest of terms, now given shape and form. From the recesses of her subconscious, a new desire barged forward... Where before she'd tinkered and created small gadgets as a hobby, this felt... Different. Enhanced somehow... Similar to how she felt when she'd first started studying the field of Enchanting.

Eventually, as the tumultuous explosion subsided, new and more complex contraptions filtered through Orzel's thoughts. There were so many that she couldn't keep track of them all, strange and new and... Visceral... Armor, weapons, potions, and enchantments, all her's to bring to life. The dots were connecting, introspective constellations guiding her on a course of new discovery. Some of them, she realized, were already laid out in her notebooks... Schematics she'd doodled while idly musing over engineering textbooks, or otherwise created in a fit of boredom. They were only supposed to be thought experiments, but... Orzel supposed some of them could be turned into something more tangible.

At the center of all those thoughts, staring intently into Orzel's eyes, the woman in white hovered in the gloom. She and Orzel now stood eye to eye in the theater of her mind, so close that the girl could finally glimpse the face concealed within the black abyss of the hood. The woman had bronze glittering metallic skin, curling black fluted horns, a razor sharp carnivorous smile, complete with long forked tongue... The blinding emerald eyes stared eagerly into her from beyond a pair of tortoiseshell spectacles, spectacles just like Orzel's own. Realization dawned in an instant, the figure in white was... Her. Not an exact representation, obviously... Mother had the alter ego of Nightmare Moon, so what if... What if this was Orzel's alter ego, her 'Nightmare Moon'? Mother assured her that wasn't possible, but... Mother couldn't know everything.

What surprised her, frightened her even, was that she wasn't... Frightened. Not in the slightest. Orzel didn't fear the 'Dragon Her', or the contraptions and instruments of death that floated around her, or what they all might represent. It all felt... Natural. As if she was merely gazing into a mirror. She should've been scared out of her mind, right? That was the normal Equestrian response, and she herself tended to feel the same way about the unknown... Fear. Why was there no fear this time? Why not in the face of this 'Dragon Her'...? How did she even know this Dragon Her was, in fact, her?

Like so many things she'd seen in her admittedly few meditative visions, it just didn't make sense... Somehow, be it intuition or divine inspiration, she just... Knew. Before she could go deeper down that bizarre path, her trance-like meditation was broken abruptly, brought about by the end of the litany. The sudden absence of a continual mantra forced her brain to turn its attention back to the waking world at large, and so she was saddled with more questions than she'd arrived with. They were questions that would need to wait, as the service was still ongoing.

A half hour was spent listening to the Seeker, who spoke the entire time in draconic, just as he'd done with the chant. Orzel knew enough to follow along, and the experience actually proved helpful in her further learning of her third language... Granted, knowing Szafirian already gave her a head start, but any assistance was welcome. The sermon itself was about the merits of forgiveness and self-acceptance, which spoke to her in a way that was as subtle as it was sublime, a welcome change from the 'fire and brimstone' rants she'd grown up with.

The sermon was followed by a lengthy period of silent prayer, and while Orzel had yet to decide if she wanted to pray to Lexicos specifically, she nonetheless wanted to pray. It was a deeply personal matter that guided her prayers, one that'd been gnawing at her ever since the evening she'd learned the nature of this world... The Old Realm. The thought of her Mother's soul wandering, forever adrift, was the fuel of countless nightmares, and so that was what she prayed for an end to. She prayed for the safety of the souls of her Mother and Father, and all those lost in the destruction of Cesarski...

In keeping with the topic of forgiveness, she prayed even for those she'd hated. It was the first time Orzel had prayed in earnest since she could last remember, and to her relief, she found that it agreed with her. When she thought of those she'd lost, thought of the burning city and roaring monsters, they were unaccompanied by the typical terrified trembling. On the contrary, her anxiety melted away, and though she knew that too was temporary, for the moment she was at peace... She went on to pray for all that she'd seen, all that she'd lost, and all she stood to gain... Thanking whatever powers might be for Luna, Aunt Celestia... Everyone in her life...

The period of prayer lasted an hour, perhaps even more than that. The services concluded with two choral hymns, accompanied by the organ, whilst the Seeker took the leather bound tome he held and reverently placed it in a white stone box, previously concealed behind the altar. Once again, Orzel didn't know the words, and that only added to her feelings awkwardness whilst the others sang. Brother Solanum cast her a smile of reassurance, and that helped... If only slightly. With the final hymn's conclusion, all eyes settled upon the Seeker as he bowed his head to the statuette on the altar, a movement that once again the other worshipers and Orzel mimicked.

"Lady Lexicos, your children thank you for your gift of knowledge, and beg your benevolent guidance in our studies, that we might one day better understand the infinite mysteries of our evolving universe..." The Seeker stated solemnly, then turned to face the congregation and extending his arms outward. "This service is concluded, with the light and love of our Lady in your hearts, depart now in peace." Orzel watched the others rise from their pews and gradually file out of the room. It seemed she wasn't the only observant one, however, as the Seeker watched the leaving parishioners with his arms outstretched. A pose that he held until the room was almost entirely empty.

It was around that time that Orzel was relieved to see that her Aunt Celestia standing near the doors to the chamber. The girl deduced she'd likely returned some time during the service and hadn't wanted to interfere... The woman looked uncharacteristically irked, likely because she hadn't expected the service to last so long. Orzel inwardly sighed, it wasn't like she'd wanted to make her Aunt wait... At least the 'urgent matter' in Ponyville had apparently been solved. The woman quickly approached the front of the room, face set in evident concern, though that expression relaxed when she drew closer to Orzel. After a few moments, the Seeker strolled closer to the front pew as well, allowing Orzel her first up close look at the man.

She immediately noticed, hidden beneath the fabric tails of his klobuk, two reddish-orange horns on either side of his head which had a vaguely 'slicked-back' appearance. A pair of slightly yellowed canines jutted past his lower lip, which prompted Orzel to briefly feel her own fangs, as if that would ensure she was seeing the man correctly. This made him the second Drake she'd ever met, though she really should've expected as much, given their current locale... Brother Solanum stood beside Orzel, quietly gesturing for her to join him as both Celestia and the Seeker came to a stop.

"Seeker Topaz, a wonderful service as always." Brother Solanum offered genuinely in draconic, which earned a small smile from the Seeker, evidently named 'Topaz'... "Please, forgive my late arrival, I was needed in the entryway..." The man gestured to Orzel and her Aunt, but Topaz merely nodded in silence, his smile remaining in place. "I know it seems unlikely, but I speak truth when I say this is Princess Celestia and her niece Orzel. The girl has come seeking Lexicos' guidance..." Solanum clasped his hands together, slipping into Draconic. "Though they are unfocused, she has seen visions of the Monolith." Topaz nodded again, staring at the two Princesses with a poker face that could rival Celestia's... Orzel stared right back, remaining implacable, while Celestia affected a greeting smile.

"Welcome, both of you. I am Topaz, the visiting Seeker of this chapter of the Lexican Orthodoxy." Topaz spoke evenly, offering an abbreviated bow, something that Orzel returned in kind. She did her best not to stare at his horns, though evidently not well enough, as the Seeker's implacable mask gave way to a warm smile. "As I said, I am visiting. I hail from one of our monasteries in the Southern Dragonlands, yet I am informed you come from even further away." Orzel nodded cautiously, inwardly wincing... She really didn't want to explain what life was like in the Old World when the Seeker inevitably asked. "It is not every day that I counsel heads of state... Please, make yourselves comfortable." He looked at Solanum. "You may take your leave, Brother Solanum." Solanum nodded, bowing his head to both Princesses and bidding a quick farewell before making his exit.

"Thank you, Seeker..." Celestia agreed as she and Orzel took a seat in the pew. Topaz's smile became more welcoming, as he too took a seat, taking the spot of Solanum beside Orzel. "I hope our presence wasn't too distracting. Our visit was a rather 'spur of the moment' decision." Topaz shook his head, waving a dismissive hand through the aromatic fog.

"All are welcome here, you were by no means a distraction." Topaz assured genially, resting his hands in his lap. "I believe it is more than coincidence that Lexicos bade me to visit this chapter, now that you have come seeking guidance." Topaz added, speaking directly to Orzel. When next he spoke, he did so in draconic, which Orzel suspected was for the benefit of privacy. "Tell me of your visions, spare no details..."

Sighing in exasperation, Orzel recounted once again the various things she'd seen and felt during her meditation. The islands and deserts, the fields and mountains, and of course the Monolith... The Princess also described the nature of her latest visions, those that took place during the service. How she didn't fear them, when she thought that she should. How she'd even conceptualized some new ideas already, without even realizing what they could be turned into. How it was surreal, to see images of machines and contraptions that could be more than simple flights of fancy...

Throughout it all, Topaz displayed little more than silent interest, his features hardening into another stoic mask. This did little to assuage Orzel's growing sense of anxiety, which was becoming harder and harder to restrain with every syllable. What if she said something to make the Seeker angry? What if he refused to help her, or worse, actively condemned her. Though her stoic mask remained intact, Orzel was a bundle of nerves by the time she reached the end of her explanation. Her only solace came in the form of Aunt Celestia's smiling, if somewhat annoyed, face... Obviously she wasn't keen on being left out of whatever Orzel was saying.

"I see..." Was all Topaz offered, idly stroking his robust facial hair, granting the Princess a better glimpse of several large gold rings that inhabited his hand... This movement also allowed Orzel to glimpse another odd facet of the man's appearance, a patch of crimson scales just barely hidden by the cuff of his robes. His finger nails were another point of oddity, as they appeared to mimic the color of his horns. The Seeker's stoic expression softened to one of understanding, and he laced his fingers together whilst reclining comfortably on the wooden bench.

"It is not uncommon for the visions of novices to be scattered. In time, as you practice, you will find it easier to focus on specific topics." Topaz explained amiably in Equestrian, which helped reduce her fears of being chastised, and apparently satisfied Celestia's apparent curiosity as to just what they'd been discussing. Orzel's nerves were still shot, however, so she remained rigid in her seat. "The content of your visions intrigues me..." The girl braced herself, taking a deep breath and gritting her teeth. "The Monolith is the repository for all the knowledge in the universe, a monument built at the behest of Lady Lexicos in another plane of existence. That you have seen it in your meditation is a sign that Lady Lexicos seeks to aid you." Orzel sighed through her nose, pursing her lips, only to wince as once again her fangs got in the way.

"Then why does she not just help me?" Her tone was rather blunt. "Why not reduce the severity of my emotions? She is a Goddess, is that not within her power?" The girl leaned back in the pew, realizing that later she'd likely have to explain a bit more to Celestia than she would've liked. For now, true to her word, Celestia was merely observing in silence. Topaz's smile grew apologetic, as if he was used to hearing that question. It wasn't lost on Orzel that she'd just acknowledged Lexicos as a deity, and on that matter she wasn't quite sure how she felt...

"It is within Her power? Certainly, but to do so would deny you the opportunity to learn and grow..." The Seeker explained evenly, pressing his palms together as if in prayer. "Knowledge requires wisdom..." Began Topaz.

"And wisdom requires patience..." Orzel finished, albeit with half-hearted acceptance. She was at least relieved to see Topaz nod. That he hadn't yelled at her, at least not yet, was encouraging. The girl looked once more at the statuette, the smoke pots continuing to smolder on the altar. She closed her eyes, bowing her head forward. "I am in a constant fight for control, Seeker... My emotions are always in flux..." The teen felt Topaz shift beside her. "Now I have these new thoughts... Desires to build things... The woman in white, the 'Dragon Me' I told you of, she is at the heart of it all. I am not frightened of her, and that... That is what scares me."

"We are Dragons..." Topaz stated simply, and once more Orzel felt him shift beside her, apparently moving to bow his head and join her in the posture of prayer. "For as advanced as the world has become, there are still aspects of ourselves that elude full understanding." Orzel hummed in agreement. "A Dragon's first Elemental Transformation marks the awakening of their true power, comparable to the arrival of an Equestrian's 'Cutie Mark'. That is why you do not fear your 'Dragon Self'. On a spiritual level, you realize she is not a threat to you, because she is you..."

"You are afraid of not being afraid, because to show your feelings, your true feelings, is not the 'Equestrian' thing to do. You cannot subdue your emotions, and you fear how those around you will react to that fact." Topaz continued in a voice that seemed more solemn than it'd been before, Orzel opened her eyes and sighed. The Seeker cast a brief look at Celestia, then spoke again. "In many ways, the Equestrians are a remarkably opened minded people, the sort of society Lady Lexicos smiles upon, but at times they can fall prey to certain... Shortcomings." Celestia narrowed her eyes at the man. "You disagree?" He asked with genuine curiosity.

"No, but Orzel already knows that, and I fail to see how reminding her of it is beneficial." The woman stated flatly, and Topaz held up a single calloused finger. Orzel cast her eyes towards Celestia, doing her best to remain calm, fearing that her Aunt's response might earn some sort of reprimand.

"It is pertinent to why she feels at odds with herself." The Seeker defended, lowering his hand back to his lap. "I suspect she realizes that because she is different, her peers will not know exactly how to quantify her. Is that correct?" Orzel nodded somewhat hesitantly, her eyes returning to the floor. She silently brought her palms together, as she'd done during the earlier prayer. "You are in control for now, but a time will come where your emotions may get the better of you... Even the patience of the most disciplined Dragon has its limits."

"So I cannot be certain I will remain in control, and I will be further ostracized because of that..." Sighed Orzel, shaking her head with a growing sense of... Futility. She needed strength, now more than ever, because she'd reached another sobering conclusion. "They will never accept me for what I am."

It was something that she supposed had always been lingering in the back of her mind. Ever since the first time she'd spoken to Twilight Sparkle, her greatest fear had been that of losing her family, of being abandoned... To be cast out, rejected... She doubted her family would do such a thing, but the same couldn't be said for the rest of Equestria. More than anything, she wanted was to serve her new Motherland, and the idea of her subjects despising her regardless of her convictions cut the Princess deeply.

"Not all of them, no, but I suspect the majority will welcome you, if you give them the chance." Topaz declared reassuringly, his voice evidently intending to rekindle the Princess's hope, and likewise mollifying Celestia's brief look of indignation. "For the darkness of ignorance chilled the hearts of mankind, and so Lexicos bestowed upon her children the warming light of truth, that it might melt away their fear." He stated with a great amount of conviction, and Orzel felt a large calloused hand pat her on the shoulder. "Ignorance prevails so long as you allow it, Sister Orzel. You must show Equestria that you are not a danger to them, but rather a boon. It is not fair, I know, but I suspect you realize by now that life seldom is..." The man tapped the side of his head. "Lexicos smiles upon you, she has blessed you with an active mind. I recommend you commit to a single field of study, work hard, persevere, even when times are difficult... Do these things, and you will go far."

Orzel lifted her head and inhaled deeply, her nostrils flaring as the aromatic smoke filled her lungs, her eyes falling once more on the statuette of Lexicos. Seeker Topaz was right, of course... She was the Crown Princess, the Heir to the Obsidian Throne... Upon her coronation she would swear an oath to defend Equestria to the fullest of her abilities. She needed only to show the people of Equestria that she could help them... An odd sensation washed over the Princess, and she leaned back in her seat... It was like watching a ship come through the fog, a bolt of inspiration... With the funds Aunt Celestia was paying her as part of their 'economic exercise', she had means to truly devote herself to not only studying, but actually creating something. Something not cobbled together from pieces of junk she fished out of the Castle garbage, or otherwise borrowed from the various maintenance departments. Something that might show Equestria she wasn't some mere child, or a monster to be feared...

The girl looked back to Topaz, his use of the title 'Sister' hadn't gone unnoticed. Now her journey to the temple was complete... She'd read the Lexican holy book, attended their services, spoken with a Brother and a Seeker... It'd given her a better look at who Lexicos was, what the Lexican Orthodoxy stood for. The unending pursuit of knowledge, and the task of spreading that knowledge so that everyone could benefit from it. As far as draconic religions went, Lexicos was probably the most benevolent and pacifistic deity one might find in in the Draconic Pantheon. Orzel decided then, rather suddenly in fact, that she liked being referred to as 'Sister Orzel', liked the idea of Lexicos watching over her, and she liked the prayer service she'd attended...

"Thank you for your counsel, Seeker..." Respectfully stated Orzel, resting her hands in her lap, inwardly reaching a decision that she knew would likely make things complicated for her upon returning home. Given how much her Mother worried, and the likelihood that she'd forbid Orzel from further exploring the Lexican Orthodoxy, there didn't really seem to be any alternative. "Do you have any advice as to how I might better focus my meditation, aside from practice alone?" Topaz stroked his beard once more, apparently an indicator of thought, then nodded sagely.

"With most Dragons in our order, to practice meditating upon their hoard is enough to rein in their emotions to a controllable level." The man began, turning his gaze skyward, back towards the paintings on the ceiling. "In your case, I would recommend training in some form of combat. It is as rigorous on the mind as it is on the body, and in that way, might grant you more control than meditation alone."

Orzel's eyes beheld the painting in silent contemplation, once more wincing as she pursed her lips. She still recalled the sting of being considered unfit for military service, the silent shame of knowing that her near total blindness disqualified her from even working in the Empire's war industry... Now in Equestria she was growing stronger, smarter, faster, more agile... With the aid of her glasses she could see just as clearly as anyone. So, in theory, she could also fight... The girl looked at Aunt Celestia, and she could see that this was probably a topic that'd require a lot of debate at home. The sort of debate that wouldn't be considered appropriate in front of the public.

Once again Orzel imagined how Mother would react, especially once Orzel informed her that she not only visited the temple, but that she intended to continue attending services, possibly even converting to the Orthodoxy... That wasn't even including her plans to purchase a workshop with the express purpose of sating the newly uncovered instinctual urge to build things of a destructive nature. As much as Orzel might've wanted to add 'I also want to learn how to fight' to the list of revelations, she suspected that might've been taking things a step too far.

Mother was already likely to hit the roof, if not outright go through it. Knowing just how powerful her Mother's magic could be, Orzel wasn't entirely certain it would be in a figurative sense either. The girl didn't like the idea of making her Mother upset, but... She had managed to run the country in her Mother's absence. Even with Cadence's help, it'd been a difficult undertaking. She'd made snap decisions, decisions that had impact on the lives of thousands of her subjects, so the argument could be made that, in this case, she could make weighty decisions that would only impact herself. Surely Mother had to see the logic... Surely. Then again, as far as Orzel knew, logic didn't always win when it came to adults... It could very well end up being one of those 'because I said so' arguments.

"I will consider it, Seeker..." Agreed Orzel, returning her gaze to Seeker Topaz. "I have only a few more questions." The man nodded readily, and so the girl spent the next twenty minutes or so asking him about the particulars of the Lexican Orthodoxy. What sort of things were expected of its practitioners, when services were held, how one converted from another faith, and so on...

She was pleased to learn that overall the Lexicans were as open-minded in practice as they purported to be in their holy book. The pursuit of truth was paramount, even if that truth proved unsavory or difficult to accept. Fidelity to one's own conscience was the second most important tenant, and thus the Lexican Orthodoxy could never influence the Crown's decision. That'd been the primary possibility that really concerned Orzel, as it would make it impossible for her to convert... Her liking both boys and girls, a virtual death sentence under the teachings of the Vindictan Church, was welcomed by the Seeker without incident.

Although Orzel expected as much to be the case, as Lexicos seemed a fairly progressive deity by Imperial standards, it nonetheless came as a great relief. All worshipers, known to one another as 'Brothers' or 'Sisters', could spread the word of Lexicos if they wanted, though at a temple that duty was reserved for a chapter's Seeker. Seekers, generally, being the most senior worshiper or scholar. Some, like Seeker Topaz, dedicated their lives to scholastic pursuits in secluded monasteries throughout the world... Only venturing out when called upon to do Lexicos' work. If Orzel wasn't committed to her role as Princess, she might very well have considered running off to do the same thing...

Topaz informed Orzel that in the future she'd need to attend services wearing robes like those of the Brothers and Sisters, something that the Princess intended to do regardless. She could continue wearing her headscarves if she wanted to, which also came as a relief. It was an archaic practice in the Lexican Orthodoxy overall, but a fair number of temples still adhered to it. They served more as an emulation of Lexicos' favored clothing than anything else, though there was some added meaning. Acceptable colors for a girl Orzel's age were red, violet, black, white, or any variation or combination. The only thing off the table was anything with gold embroidery, as that was reserved for married women. In that respect, it wasn't all that dissimilar from Szafirian custom, if a bit more simplified...

With her questions answered and the hour growing late, the sun already having set, Orzel and Celestia bid the Seeker farewell. As he returned to the altar to tend to the smoke pots, the two Princesses began their walk out of the temple. It was awkward at first, primarily because Orzel wasn't sure what to say, but Celestia seemed content to make the first overture.

"I take it you enjoyed the service?" The woman asked, clasping her hands behind her as the two walked down the dimly lit hallway. Orzel nodded quietly, assuming a similar posture, eyes fixed forward. "I'm sorry I couldn't join you for the entire thing. Perhaps next time?" Orzel nodded again, glancing sideways at her Aunt, silently probing for any signs of what might've called her away to Ponyville. The woman appeared uncharacteristically on edge, her words carrying just the faintest hint of irritation... Whether that was a result of the sudden 'Emergency' or the conversation with Seeker remained to be seen. "I only caught pieces of what you were discussing in there... What was that about your 'Dragon Self', and a 'Monolith'?" Orzel looked at the floor as they turned the corner, now passing the paintings of the various scholars.

"When I meditated... I saw things..." Orzel explained plainly. "Lots of landscapes, including one with a gigantic white stone slab, the Monolith. I do not know if I agree with the Seeker, that it was Lexicos who placed it in my head..." The girl stated somewhat reluctantly. "Perhaps it was just my mind's interpretation of the text." She looked up at her Aunt. "The 'Dragon Self' is just that... A vision of my older self, with green eyes, and more draconic features." Celestia's face gradually became one of contemplation. Rather than face the coming fusillade of questions, Orzel opted to change tack quickly. "What was the matter in Ponyville?" Her Aunt became stoic again, but this time Orzel wouldn't accept silence, not in the wake of the Chaos Wave.

"Twilight Sparkle had a bit of an episode." Celestia finally admitted with a sigh, her eyes downcast. "It's all sorted, no one was hurt, thankfully..." The woman placed a hand on Orzel's shoulder as they neared the front atrium of the temple, an act which brought both of them to a stop. "She's wound exceptionally tight. Seeing how it affected her, and having heard what you said to the Seeker...?" The woman's voice was solemn, but not in an overly negative way. "I know talking to me about wanting to come here this morning wasn't easy for you."

"I want you to know that if you ever just need someone to talk to, or if you feel like you're not fully in control, I'm here..." Celestia added before smiling faintly, and Orzel allowed a smile of her own to appear for the briefest of moments. "Now, I don't want you to worry, but tonight..." Celestia paused, mulling over her words as a fresh batch of concern began to brew in Orzel's mind. "Well, there are some things that your Mother and I will need to discuss with you. You aren't in trouble, it's nothing bad, I just have a feeling you'll be better off if we don't spring it all on you without warning, okay?"

Orzel inhaled deeply through her nose, taking her Aunt's words in, deconstructing them... Her tone was assuring, the girl detected no malice or trickery, just reasonable calm. In the wake of her latest meditation, coupled with a few stress abating techniques she'd learned from Doctor Scratch, the Princess managed to arrest the anxious tailspin before it could even begin. She was in control, on a level that felt more concrete and grounded than usual.

"Alright..." The girl started pensively as the two resumed their walk, quickly approaching the two temple doors. "In the future... I would like not to be kept in the dark. If there is a crisis, I feel I have a right to know." Celestia opened the doors with a flare of magic, her wings fluttering as the pair stepped out into the rapidly chilling night air. It only took a few moments for Orzel shiver considerably, to a point that her teeth started to chatter together.

"Let's... Put a pin in that one for now, alright?" Celestia asked as they walked down the stone path towards the sidewalk. "If it comes to a point where your Mother and I must depart, I will of course inform you as to why, but... You've got a full enough plate as it is, let's not add more to it until we absolutely have to." Orzel was about to retort, but again she got the feeling that this was an argument where she just couldn't win, no matter how right she believed herself to be. "Now, stand close to me, I'm sure they're waiting for us at dinner."

Orzel nodded, sidling up closer to her Aunt as the woman brought her magic to her palms. In the future Orzel had determined that she'd get a car or carriage to take her to services... While teleportation magic was good for speedy travel, as the spell was intended primarily for Equestrians it also had a sensation that she imagined was much like the 'Mirror Vortex' effect described in her 'EG-1' novels. That being a sensation of being enveloped by overwhelmingly frigid air, then feeling as if she'd been shot out of a cannon, before finally appearing at the other end of the spell with a short flashing headache, brief nausea, and a fleeting period of spacial disorientation...

The experienced tended to get worse the longer the distance was. She'd inform her Aunt of that fact later, as for now she just wanted to get home so she could get whatever stressful conversation Celestia mentioned out of the way as soon as possible. Taking Celestia's hand in her own, Orzel braced herself for what was to come whilst the wisps of golden magic coiled around the two of them. With an abruptness that briefly caused her to jump, the wisps flared brightly, and both Princesses were enveloped in a flash of bright light.

Considering how Luna expected things to turn out, the atmosphere of the evening meal was surprisingly subdued. While she'd not expected there to be an argument, the fact remained that her daughter tended to spiral when faced with a sudden change. That change, in this case, being the revelation that Piercing Gaze and Luna were together. It hadn't taken the girl long to deduce that there was more to it than that, or that Piercing had something to do with the Chaos Wave, as the evidence was rather difficult to refute. She'd been remarkably quiet, and thus far the girl showed no sign of panicking. Luna wished she could say the same for herself, as Orzel's own announcement about her day was... Surprising.

Not only that she'd gone out to attend a fund raiser, but that she'd subsequently attended prayer services at a temple of Lexicos, and was leaning heavily in the direction of converting. While at first Luna was resistant to the idea, the fact remained that her daughter made several valid points. That being said, it still didn't sit well with Luna, that her daughter seemed to be plunging headlong into such a decision at such a rapid pace. It was hard for a Mother not to worry, especially having made plenty of rash decisions of her own as a teenager. It didn't help that Piercing seemed fascinated by the prospect, though given their topic of discussion on the train the night before, Luna could see why.

What shook the Princess most wasn't so much the various physical changes brought on by Orzel's recent Elemental Transformation, but rather the mental ones. The girl she'd said farewell to at the Grand Galloping Gala, introverted and fearful, wasn't the same young lady that greeted Luna that evening in the dining room. She still came off as not exceptionally social, and there were still undertones of anxiety to her behavior, but they were more subdued than ever before. Luna was used to her daughter shunning the outside world and all that it contained, in favor of her own room...

On more than one occasion she'd encouraged her daughter to get out more. To meet people, and become active within a community, and now...? Now Orzel was starting to do just that. That same terribly frightened girl whom Luna had taken in all those months ago was now talking about acquiring a workshop, perhaps even starting her own small enchanting shop or engineering business. She was exploring her faith, expanding her horizons, taking chances and going out into the world. Luna was thrilled with the changes, at least most of them, but... Once again she was reminded of just how quickly life could fly by. Her daughter was only a couple years away from being an adult, and the idea of Orzel stepping out into the world as her own person... Well, Luna wasn't entirely sure how that made her feel.

She knew that Orzel would always be in her life in one way or another, they'd always be close, but it just wouldn't be the same whenever the girl inevitably went off to college. The woman shook her head ever so faintly, a melancholy smile briefly gracing her lips. Even now, as Piercing, Celestia, and Orzel conversed over dinner, it was clear to Luna that the girl was fast becoming a fine young woman. She'd make mistakes along the way, but Luna had no doubt her daughter would learn from them and grow, becoming even better for them... In that sense, it was more than enough to make a Mother proud.

The topic of discussion at present was the state of the world, particularly the ongoing issues in West Parthenia, specifically the Griffon Empire, and how Equestria should respond, if it should respond at all. Celestia, as per usual, was firmly on the side of non-intervention. It wasn't Equestria's place in the world to tell other nations how to conduct themselves. Orzel was meanwhile voicing her concerns that a sufficiently unstable Griffon Empire could very well find itself embroiled in a civil conflict, the sort of conflict that might spill over its borders into other neutral states. Piercing was fielding arguments from both sides of the issue, picking them apart in that analytical way of his. While she wasn't outright hostile towards him, it was clear that Orzel still didn't fully trust the man. Luna expected as much, but knowing how Orzel tended to think, she didn't expect it would take long for that detachment to subside.

"If we 'mind our own business' we will end up paying for it later." Orzel stated flatly as she cut into a juicy looking pan cooked steak... It was almost as large as her head, which in the past meant Orzel would only finish a quarter of it, if that. This, however, was her fourth such steak of the evening, and she was quickly going through it and a vast array accompanying side dishes as if they were little more than popcorn. "I am not saying we need to land troops or fight their war for them, but would it be so extreme to send First Fleet to keep an eye on our interests there?" Celestia shook her head, taking a bite of her salad.

"It would be far too provocative, we'd be seen as butting our nose in where it doesn't belong." The woman countered simply, upon finishing her latest morsel. "I've offered to serve as a mediator between the two sides, but mediation requires both of them to come to the table. Barring a sudden uncharacteristic wellspring of cooperation, that isn't likely to happen. That's why it's best we let the Griffon's solve their own problems." Orzel's features, while more or less expressionless already, became as impassive as a slab of solid granite, her faintly glowing eyes narrowing in the process.

"It is not just about 'solving their own problems', you know that. I have no interest in solving their problems, only ensuring their problems do not become our problems." She stated rather coldly, Luna knew exactly what she meant by that as well. It'd been one of the first lessons about running a country she'd taught Orzel. Everything is interconnected, even in ways that don't seem readily apparent. What happens in one country could have just as much an affect on a nation on an entirely different continent. "More than half the world relies on iron ore from the Empire for their economies to function, not to mention that a quarter of the world's sea lanes run through what the Griffon's claim as their territorial waters." Celestia opened her mouth, but Orzel cut her off.

"We cannot supplement the supply of iron at the same cost as the Griffons, not without dangerously depleting our own reserves. We also can't risk the Griffons seizing neutral shipping to supplement their economy." The girl continued as she leaned back in her seat, lacing her fingers together. "If we desire to keep the global availability of iron in its current state of abundance without taking military action, we shall need to charge a premium. Both for the cost of the product and the cost of protecting it in transit." Her tone was a tad shrewder than before, though her expression remained the same.

"I'm afraid I have to agree with her on this one, Celestia." Piercing admitted, rubbing somewhat awkwardly at the back of his neck. "Equestria's economy isn't nearly strong enough to serve as some sort of 'global iron charity'. While most of the world could probably get by, twenty five percent of the sea lanes suddenly shutting down could play havoc with the value of the Bit." Celestia sighed heavily, rubbing at her temples.

Luna knew all too well just how empathetic her sister could be, and while she'd run the country for a long time on her own, it was always a struggle for the woman not to feel bad for putting the needs of her own people first. That was yet another lesson that Luna made sure was at the top of Orzel's curriculum. A Princess needed to be cold and calculating in her trade and business negotiations, while at the same time not gouging her partners for every Bit they had. Doing so was a fine way to make money in the short term, but once trade relations were soured, they were exceptionally difficult to mend. The safety and prosperity of Equestria's citizens was paramount to all others. If heating one Equestrian meant leaving ten non-Equestrians in the cold, so be it... It was a cold mindset to maintain, but the world was a very cold place... Luna suspected Orzel knew that better than anyone.

"At present we're just talking about a couple striking protestors, not a full blown Civil War." Celestia emphasized, which, to be fair, was also accurate. Realistically, the odds of a Civil War sparking from something as simple as a few strikes were slim, but there were always factors that couldn't be accounted for. Even though the immediate effects of the Chaos Wave had dissipated, their lingering aftermath still presented the proverbial wild card. "Now, enough work talk at the dinner table..." Celestia stated somewhat firmly. "Have you given any thought to what sort of things you might make at your workshop, Orzel? You mentioned something about perhaps starting a small shop, and I assume that has to do with our economics lesson?" The girl looked at Luna for a moment, then nodded ever so tentatively.

"I have a few ideas..." She temporized, looking back at the table. "Some of them came to me during my meditation, actually. Others I have been considering for some time." Luna cast a glance at Piercing, evidently his interest was piqued as he leaned more heavily on the table. Luna could already guess what sort of ideas her daughter might come up with, what she'd seen in her daughter's notebook sprang to mind. "They are very technical, I do not want to bore anyone." She added, but this only served to further encourage Piercing's intrigue.

"Please, at least tell us what a couple of them do." He asked, resulting in Orzel casting another brief glance at Luna. While the girl's features remained flat, Luna could tell there was a fair bit of apprehension going on beneath the surface. Getting her to talk about her trip to the temple had been difficult enough, more a result of Orzel fears as to how Luna would react than anything else, and the woman suspected this was a similar situation... So Luna did her best to appear supportive, and that proved enough encouragement for her daughter to go into further detail.

"Well, one of them came to me as I was reading about Early Equestrian tapestries..." Orzel stated cautiously, and Luna could tell she was probably giving one of her less objectionable ideas. "A lot of artists used crystal encrusted thread, as I am sure you are aware. In theory, the same technique could be used with Alicornium or Arcanium powder, provided a sufficient bonding agent could be manufactured. Given the ability to mass produce clothing now, it could perhaps be used to produce better protective equipment."

Luna actually raised an eyebrow at that, the idea actually struck her as rather... Ingenious. It'd never occurred to her that enchanting clothing could be 'automated'. Luna suspected it would likely offend the 'purists' of the Enchanting school, to see their 'art' transformed into something that could be mass produced. As for its use in 'protective equipment', Luna was certain there'd be plenty of other applications for such a technology. Then again, that wasn't how Orzel tended to think... She was the utilitarian of the family, even more so than Luna...

"I was thinking that enchanted patches could be sewn into the uniforms of combat vehicle crewmen or firefighters." Orzel added further. "Speaking of, I have been meaning to discuss possibly issuing a change to those uniforms. They are mostly comprised of overly stuffy material, as I recall..." Orzel trailed off, looking at the table somewhat nervously, as if another idea had just come to her. "I wonder...?" The girl shook her head, casting her eyes about the room, as if worried someone might've actually been listening to her thoughts. "I suspect it is one of the many ideas I shall have to endeavor to explore when the workshop is operational." Piercing seemed likewise intrigued by the idea, but he cast a knowing look to Luna, he too had picked up on Orzel's brief pause.

"What about purely mechanical ideas? I hope you won't mind, but I did take a tiny peek at your notes." Piercing stated curiously, leaning back in his seat as Orzel continued to enjoy her meal. "I am fairly fluent in Kwarczkie, its written form at any rate..." He stated, and this earned him an odd look from the girl. "It remarkable language, your designs much impressed, but words me saw seem... Made up." He added in rather broken Szafirian, Orzel abruptly brought a hand to her mouth, snickering slightly, if it could be called that... It just as easily could've been her clearing her throat, which only served to confuse Piercing.

"You must work on your spoken Szafirian, Mister Gaze." Orzel responded in Szafirian, gradually regaining control of herself. "I apologize, but that was terrible..." She added in Equestrian while slowly shaking her head, manifesting the stoic mask once again. "As for the words appearing 'made up'? There are many technical terms in Equestrian that do not have a Szafirian counterpart. Seeing as I was the only person that was supposed to read those journals, I didn't think it would pose an issue. Some are literal descriptions, others...?" She shrugged. "I got creative. I can show you something I came up with today... It has few moving parts, and is a bit more practical, given my current level of skill in engineering."

The girl quietly whistled, a quick and lyrical sounding song. To Luna's slight surprise, a small patch of air on the table suddenly condensed upon itself like a cloud of black vapor, forming into the distinct rodent form of Orzel's familiar... Held in its tiny paws, as well as its mouth, was the leather bound notebook she'd seen on her daughter's desk the night before. Orzel offered the mouse a brief smile, scratching it under its chin and allowing it to scamper up onto her shoulder. She silently opened the notebook, turning rapidly to a page near the rear.

"Bear in mind, this is a tad unrefined..." Orzel added somewhat cautiously, stopping on one page and handing it to Piercing. "I only came up with theses rough sketches an hour or so ago." Luna leaned over to examine the page for herself, fearing for a moment she'd see the initial outline to a sword, spear, or other weapon of war.

What she saw instead was what at first glance appeared to be a standard 'Tank Top', though it was larger, bulkier, and had numerous buttons spaced evenly about its front. They weren't used to fasten it closed, that task fell to a pair of what looked like cotton webbing straps on either side. It was obviously a cuirass of some sort, with two slotted pouches on its front and rear faces, where she assumed something flat could be inserted. Beside it were several rough diagrams, the first being a simple rectangle, another was similar, though its upper corners were ground down, whilst a third consisted of five-inch squares of an unknown material bolted together, overlapping not unlike the scales of a dragon. All had writing scratched into them, which Luna translated roughly to mean 'Impact Surface'... Perhaps they were what went into the slots?

"I had the idea while in meditation, when I was looking at the Monolith..." Orzel explained further while Piercing's eyes were drawn to what looked like a rather long string of letters. "It is also based on a few of the new Science Fiction novels I read recently, as well as the ceremonial armor of the Vindictan Order. This is what I approximate 'modernized' garments of such design would look like at any rate." The man hummed thoughtfully, rubbing at his chin as he nodded. "I realize it may be different from what you were used to in your time, but we are facing different threats today than a thousand years ago."

"OUBC-XPOC... Am I translating the letters correctly?" Piercing asked, offering the book to Luna, though she couldn't really make sense of what the writing itself. For a 'rough' outline, her daughter's fastidiousness was on full display, with various calculations and notes already written into the margins. Luna in turn handed the book to Celestia, who examined it with an equal amount of curiosity and concern. "I admit, I don't know what exactly I'm looking at here. What do these letters stand for?" Orzel took the book back from Celestia as the Princess was finished with it.

"'Over Uniform Ballistic Cuirass - Experimental Proof of Concept'." Orzel stated simply, closing the notebook and setting it beside her plates of dwindling food. "The subject of armor is a topic I have rarely given much thought until recently. Still, after observing the Monolith in my meditative vision, it occurred to me that no one has found a sufficient means of countering modern firearms." Orzel picked up the notebook, then held it close to her chest. "A quick examination of available data indicates that while attempts have been made to develop bullet-proof suits of armor, the prototypes have proven restrictive both in freedom of movement and versatility, while offering little guaranteed protection."

"The problem is that these attempts thus far have been to create a full suit of armor, like that of a knight, but the weapons of today are not swords or spears... Why attempt to stop them as if they were?" Orzel continued, then suddenly smacked the book with her other hand. Luna's thoughts returned to the sketch, and upon reflection, she could once again see her daughter's point. The odd rectangles marked 'Impact Surface', and the visual cue of her smacking the book, gave her an idea as to just what it was her daughter was driving at. "Modern soldiers are trained to aim for the center mass, so we should focus on protecting the center mass. This in many ways simplifies the task." The girl looked at Luna, her expression like granite. "While I would much rather work on offensive equipment, I am inclined to believe you would have objections to such endeavors. As a result, I must redirect my focus to defensive equipment. Among other things, this is what I intend to work on in my workshop."

Orzel was absolutely right in that Luna didn't want her daughter going anywhere near 'offensive equipment', as the girl so delicately called it. A week ago, had she come to Luna saying she was even considering creating such things, Luna would've flat out refused. Casting a look between Orzel and Piercing, however, the woman's response was tempered... Orzel knew enough now not to get herself into trouble, and unlike most Equestrian teenagers, possessed a healing factor that made it less likely she'd seriously injure herself in an accident.

What was more, if Orzel's design proved actually feasible... It could prove an invaluable asset to the Equestrian military. Even if the design failed, it could still be spun as her being a Princess that cared for the lives of her soldiers, who would use all her technical acumen to help them come home to their families. It would go a long way towards silencing her detractors, and prove a boon to the girl's struggling public image. Of course, Luna knew that despite her jaded plans to spin the story to her daughter's benefit, Orzel's intentions were no less genuine. She wanted to protect those subjects that were willing to give their very lives for Crown and Country, and nothing Luna said or did would change that fact, so why not let it work to the favor of Orzel's public image?

As she looked at Piercing, however, another nagging thought made its presence known. If what he'd said about Orzel was true, if this was also the result of some sort of 'instinctive drive' to 'build a better body armor', could Luna really prevent her daughter from working towards that end? Maybe, if she locked Orzel in her tower and kept her under constant observation, but that was no way for her daughter to live... Orzel was driven, she didn't hesitate to do things without asking permission, and Luna had little doubt the girl would continue working in secret. Her daughter would take whatever risks she deemed necessary to test her armor, perhaps even using herself as a test subject... The less Luna thought about that the better. Looking towards Celestia, she needed only a glance to realize they were both thinking the same thing.

"Very well..." Luna stated calmly, holding up four fingers. "On four conditions... First, any tests you conduct are to be supervised by qualified personnel. Second, you will provide me with weekly reports as to your progress, and essays as to how they pertain to your regular studies..." The woman exhaled evenly. "Third, you do not allow this project intrude upon your regular studies." The woman cast a look at Piercing, knowing that this particular condition would be a tough one. "Lastly, I would like for you to help Piercing with his understanding of your language."

While likely to become a point of contention, Luna saw it as the best way she could get Orzel to interact with Piercing. She had no illusions about the two becoming best friends, but if Orzel could at least come to tolerate the man's presence, that'd be enough. Moreover, Piercing's knowledge of enchanting and the arcane far exceeded Luna's, and having him in her daughter's life as a sort of 'impromptu tutor' couldn't hurt. The girl thoughtfully considered Luna's terms, her eyes turning back to Piercing, as silently she placed her notebook back on the table. With a reluctant sigh, Orzel steepled her fingers and nodded in solemn acceptance, leaning back in her seat as her familiar scampered back to the table, where it took station atop the notebook. The girl's eyes turned to Piercing, staring intently at the man.

"Mother claimed earlier that you are a mage and scholar of particular skill." Orzel stated evenly, cutting another piece of her steak. "I would request that in the coming days you review the modern literature relating to enchanting and basic engineering." Piercing raised an eyebrow at that. "If you are to learn my language, you will need to do so as I work. If you are in my workshop, I would expect you to work as well..." Luna was about to intercede on Piercing's behalf, as she didn't like her daughter's tone, monotonous as it was. Piercing held up a hand to stop her, merely nodded his head with a look of respect.

"Your workshop, your rules. Never fear, I'm quite adept at multi-tasking!" Piercing conceded amiably, allowing a small smile to grace his features. "I shall be as helpful as, well... A helpful thing!" He added cheerfully, though he proceeded to awkwardly rub the back of his neck. "I'm afraid I don't know many modern metaphors, but as always, I'm ready to learn!" Piercing cast a look over at Luna, the sort that told her not to worry, because he was working an angle...

The woman pondered just what sort of angle that might be, until she recalled her first condition, that Orzel be supervised. With Piercing assisting Orzel in her workshop, he'd be in an excellent position to inform her of the daily goings on, beyond what Luna might read in the weekly reports. Even more importantly, he'd be able to give her a general overview of how he thought Orzel was doing in terms of her studies and overall mental health. She'd unknowingly provided herself an organic means of keeping an eye on her daughter...

Luna recalled that at Orzel's age she wasn't fond of the various attempts Celestia made to 'spy' on her, but now she was on the other side of that argument. Much as she'd yearned for privacy as a teenager, the fact was that she was a Mother, and Mothers sometimes had to do things they themselves wouldn't like. For now it seemed that the conversation had been restarted, and with Orzel conceding to Luna's conditions, the rest of the evening meal passed without further incident. The next few days would prove equally interesting, Luna was sure. Perhaps they'd make a family outing, or maybe take in an opera, or even one of the fascinating 'moving pictures' she'd heard so much about. Whatever they did, it seemed life was looking up, for once.

Chapter 14

After being temporarily delayed due to weather, specifically that brought on by the Discord Crisis, the Global Series was finally ready to get underway. The air in Lone Star's capital city was warmer than Orzel had grown accustomed to in the frigid mountain city of Canterlot, and she found herself far more comfortable as a result. It was, much to her dismay, still an incredibly dry heat... What she'd seen of the city so far struck her as not only welcoming, but patriotic to an almost religious extent. They hadn't gone a single block without seeing at least a half dozen fluttering Equestrian flags, accompanied by an equal number of Lone Star provincial flags. A field of diagonal red and blue stripes, above which was situated single large white star.

What struck Orzel most of all wasn't the flags or the environmental warmth, rather it was the warmth of the people. Thousands of them had turned out, lining the route from station to stadium, waving fluttering banners and holding signs... Most were welcoming Orzel's Mother or Aunt Celestia, but a fair number had also gone out of their way to welcome the young Princess as well. She'd become so used to people ignoring or criticizing her that the simple act of greeting her, acknowledging her presence in a positive light, was deeply touching. A blunt and unexpected reminder that these people were her people. No matter how the rest of the day went, regardless of whomever won the game that day, she would remember that drive more than anything else.

It wasn't long before they'd arrived at the stadium, even then Orzel found herself enthralled. She had to force herself to maintain focus as she and her family quietly made their way towards the Royal Viewing Box. The path they'd taken was not one open to the public, and it had afforded her an opportunity to observe the numerous steel buttresses, I-Beams, and countless strange devices that made the thrumming stadium live. The building was sturdy, that was for sure, not unlike the arena in Cesarski... Granted, she'd never actually been able to see much of anything at the Arena. She'd been able to hear the roar of the crowd, feel the vibrations of the seats, but as with so many things... Life had been a blur.

The cheering of the stadium's crowd reverberated in Orzel's chest, only occasionally overcome by the bellowing calls of eager vendors going about the stands. 'Peanuts! Hot dogs! Ice cold beer!'... Again, not all that different from the vendors at the Cesarski arena. The sheer volume of it all was a little intimidating, and Orzel had needed a moment or two to gather her composure, as for a few brief moments she could've sworn she'd been hearing panicked screams rather than cheers. She was able to shake it off and continue on to the Royal Viewing Box, which she was told more resembled a private dining area than anything else.

They would have arrived sooner, if both Orzel and Mister Piercing Gaze hadn't stopped to admire every bit of industrial machinery that they came across. She'd been told the stadium itself had cost millions of Bits to build, a figure Orzel believed by the sheer amount of mechanical wonder's she'd seen so far. The most fascinating of them all had been the elevator, a device that Orzel had heard of, but never actually used. With it, they had ascended through the stadium's towering form in a matter of moments, eventually stopping at about the middle of the structure. The only members of her family not present, much to Orzel's dismay, were her Cousins Blueblood and Cadence.

The former had declined to come on account of having already made plans with someone, a woman whom he'd described as 'elegantly bucolic', whatever that meant... Cadence, conversely, was staying behind to see to the running of the country. She wasn't particularly a fan of Baseball, though Orzel had suspicions there was another reason she'd wanted to remain behind. The cleaning staff had a habit of gossiping while they worked, and Orzel had heard there was likely something between her cousin and Celestia's 'Captain of the Guard'. The girl frowned slightly at that, Shining Armor was a man whom Orzel didn't see eye to eye with, at least in their few encounters... He respected her as he did all Princesses, but it was obvious he was still suspicious of her Mother, and her, by extension. Why Cadence had chosen him...? Orzel could hardly guess.

Making their way through a well lit hallway towards the Royal Viewing Box, the powerful PA speakers mounted throughout the outer stands crackled to life, though the words were muffled beyond discernability by the crowd. Orzel's eyes turned to her Mother, as well as the man that had monopolized a great deal of Luna's time over the past few days. He now sported a pair of spectacles of his own... Granted, his lenses weren't nearly as thick, and he'd opted for metal frames as opposed to obviously superior tortoiseshell. His clothes were a bit more relaxed today, perhaps a tad too casual for Orzel's taste. Like so many people she'd seen throughout the excursion, he additionally wore a black baseball cap, bearing a white platter-like helmet embroidered at its front.

While Orzel had dressed more casually than she ever had for a public outing, the conditioned fear of reprisal still lingered in her mind. A simple beige button down blouse, accompanied by a floor length gray-blue skirt, which helped to hide an added novelty, a pair of shoes fittingly called 'sneakers'. They were comfortable shoes, not nearly as versatile as her beloved steel toed work boots, but better ventilated and thus more suited to the warmer climate. As per usual she'd tied her hair back beneath a crimson headscarf, a task that was slightly more complex considering it'd grown down to the middle of her back, requiring the addition of a snood to keep everything better in place.

She'd not noticed before on account of her scarves, but as with the addition of her fangs and voracious appetite, her hair was starting to change... It was taking on an almost metallic texture, naturally highlighted by streaks of green, like that of an old copper statue. Not only did her hair now look like metal, it was also starting to take on numerous attributes of metal... The Princess had attempted to cut a sample for examination under a microscope, only to find that scissors proved insufficient, and so she was forced to resort to tin snips. This had proved fruitless as well, as the sample looked more or less identical to normal hair upon closer inspection.

Luna assured her there was nothing to worry about, it was just another emerging trait brought on by her Elemental Transformation. Between a loss in height, the jutting fangs, insatiable appetite, and now changing hair, Orzel had to wonder just when the discovery of new 'traits' would end. Odds were they wouldn't, not until she wound up looking like the 'Future Her' from her meditations...

The girl shook her head, clasping her hands behind her back and putting up a front of stoic calm as she appraised her family further. Luna and Celestia were casually dressed, both in similar fashion, and the trio of Princesses had all foregone their crowns for the day, with both elder Princesses donning ball caps of their own. Celestia was apparently a bit of a 'Wildfires' fan, while Luna wore the same 'Roughnecks' cap as her suitor. Orzel, for her part, had opted to forgo a cap altogether. The headscarf did an adequate job keeping the sun out of her eyes.

"We must first wait for them to announce us..." Luna explained to both Piercing and Orzel as the group halted near the entrance to the Royal Viewing Box, sunlight streaming through a pair of windows set within the doors themselves. It cast remarkable beams of light through the dusty air, vaguely reminding Orzel of her visit to the Lexican Temple. Briefly she thought how lucky she'd been to manage attending another service prior to departing Canterlot to witness the looming Global Series. Seeker Topaz went a little light on the chanting, replacing them with more lyrical choral hymns, but overall it'd been a pleasant experience.

Orzel could see the wide open diamond more clearly, at least if she stood on the tips of her toes to peer through the window proper. Immediately beyond the door was a familiar pair of hulking figures, standing at attention, flanking either side of the passageway. Grim and Fable had preceded them, diligently adorned in their dress uniforms. The two were likewise joined by a pair of smaller men, dressed in red jackets and black trousers, wearing towering bearskin hats. Under normal circumstances Orzel imagined they'd all be baking in the heavy woolen garments, but they showed no sign of it. Likely on account of one of the many other fantastic inventions Orzel had seen today... Her first 'Air Conditioner'. She'd made a note that whatever building she acquired for her workshop would need to be able to support one of the devices, as maintaining a steady humidity and temperature would be vital to ensuring proper test results.

"Are you certain you want to attend?" Luna asked in Szafirian, frowning faintly, as she apparently picked up on her daughter's hesitance to look at either her or Piercing. Orzel nodded, quietly clasping her hands behind her back, still refraining from meeting their eyes. This unfortunately didn't go unnoticed by either party, and the two glanced at one another uncertainly. "The train is well stocked with Enchanting supplies, if you would rather study..." Luna must've truly been concerned to suggest such a thing, especially considering the last time Orzel had practiced her enchanting on the train.

"It is too late for me to return, regardless of if I want to or not..." Orzel mumbled in her native tongue, glancing between Luna and Piercing. "I suppose I am just... Uncomfortable." It was more than the unpleasant thought that the stranger might be keeping an eye on her. No, the primary reason she was uneasy with Piercing's presence was how it seemed to be changing Luna as well...

The unbreakable, implacable, exacting woman with a will of Iron was 'lighter', less 'severe', the opposite of many aspects Orzel had grown adept at emulating. While she still remained serious, there was an unspoken cheerfulness underlying it all... Not that cheerfulness was a bad thing, it was just... Different. Orzel personally considered an over abundance of cheerfulness to be a precursor to naivete, and that was just a few short steps from ignorance. Luna considered the girl's words, then she took on that same understanding compassionate look that had comforted Orzel countless times. At least that hadn't changed.

"It is nothing time will not mend..." Orzel offered quickly, tucking her hands into her pockets and eying the doors. It seemed that was enough to assuage Luna's concerns for the moment, as she made no further comment on the matter. The PA speaker outside once again crackled to life, and now that they were near the door, Orzel could make out the scratchy announcer's voice.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, we here at Wildcat Park ask you to rise and join us in welcoming to the Royal Viewing Box, their Majesties, Princess Celestia, Princess Luna, and her Highness, Crown Princess Orzel..." The man's voice thundered, deep and heavy, and yet filled with exuberant energy. The crowd gradually fell silent, and from somewhere outside Orzel heard the familiar call of heralding trumpets. A few moments later, the heralding trumpets blared, leading into the tune of 'Faust Save The Queen'.

Orzel pondered the implications of the song for a moment... In theory, when she assumed the throne, she could very well take the title of Queen. There wasn't any law that stated she had to remain a Princess, just the tradition of Equestria's sovereigns opting not to change their title. It'd likely get very confusing if there were a bunch of Princesses as well. It was tempting... So very, very tempting... She quickly shook her head, not only was she getting ahead of herself, she was also allowing her desire for more to override her better judgment. She'd cross the 'title bridge' when she came to it, for now Crown Princess was more than sufficient.

Grim and Fable dutifully opened the doors as the song began in earnest, and Orzel had to admit she felt a tad under dressed considering the fanfare. Celestia stepped out into the sunlit viewing box first, and as expected was greeted by cheering adulation of a sort Orzel wasn't accustomed to hearing. Luna and Orzel stepped out next, with the former walking arm in arm with Piercing. To Orzel's utter amazement, the roaring cheers became louder and louder. Piercing stood off to the side as ten thousand voices, perhaps even fifteen thousand, all erupted as one to welcome her Aunt, her Mother, and her... Once again she was profoundly humbled, and for a second time she suspected that she'd remember this more than any play made during the game.

Orzel wordlessly joined her Mother and Aunt in approaching the railing of the roomy and well appointed viewing box. There were several comfortable looking chairs, providing an excellent view of the field from above and behind second plate. The rest of the chamber contained a small buffet, a bar, several couches, a radio, a series of clocks set to differing timezones, and more pieces of Baseball memorabilia than one could shake a bat at. All paled in comparison to the expansive sea of people that filled the rows of seats that flanked either side of the Royal Viewing area.

There wasn't an empty seat in the entirety of Wildcat Park, and even the buildings viewable beyond the boundaries of the the stadium had their rooftops and windows filled with eager spectators. The center of everyone's attention was the diamond, crisp white lines and verdant grass, all laid out beneath the wide open Lone Star sky. The air was heavy with the smell of cooking hotdogs, smoldering tobacco, and a myriad of different beers. Eager throngs chattered loudly throughout, all waiting with anticipation for the players to take the field.

Celestia and Luna commenced to waving to the crowd, her Aunt smiling widely while her Mother displayed an atypical warm grin. Orzel allowed a faint smile of her own, so as not to appear ungrateful for the welcome, though her 'royal wave' was far more reserved. She doubted much of the cheering was on her behalf alone, she had done little of note aside from the christening of ESS Sokol and her recent stint in the Nocturnal Court... Then again, she was told that Lone Star was deep Black Crown territory, and if that were so then her detention of Jet Set and Upper Crust had to have made papers here. She tried not to linger on the implications presented by her most noteworthy act thus far being to arrest to of her detractors, even if they had come into her home and insulted her.

Odds were she'd become more of a fixture in the Nocturnal Court, considering that Luna and Piercing were spending more and more time together. The girl doubted the people of Lone Star really cared about that sort of thing. She found that even considering what her Mother and Piercing were likely doing sent a chill down her spine, and prompted her to almost throw up in her mouth... Realistically, the less Orzel thought about Piercing and her Mother 'catching up', the better...

Even so, looking at her Mother's smiling face, Orzel briefly considered what might be becoming of the woman that'd taken her in. Would Luna become as cheerful and nearly naive as Aunt Celestia, would she stop pressing so strongly to better defend Equestria...? Luna deserved to be happy, no one believed that more than Orzel, but... If her reunion with Piercing Gaze caused her focus on the nation's protection to slacken, then it would fall upon Orzel to become the nation's new 'Protector'.

The crisis brought on by Piercing's arrival had been modest enough to moderate, thankfully. There were injuries, no serious casualties, but what about the next one? What happened when the next 'Chaos Wave' hit, or a massive wildfire broke out somewhere, or a plague swept across the land...? What if they were invaded? These were all things that'd happened in the Empire, things that could've been prepared for, but only the last was ever given thought... All that military spending, all that focus on military defense, but what about the people... These cheering people, the people welcoming her as their future sovereign.

As she stood there waving to the crowd, it occurred to her that in all her readings on Equestria's governmental bodies, not once had the topic come up. There were volumes on army and navy strategies, but not so much as a pamphlet or even a cocktail napkin on the topic of 'Civil Defense'. She was guilty of it herself, devoting her focus to the design of her body armor and other devices for the military... If there'd been some plan of action in place in Cesarski, perhaps not so many people might've died... Maybe Sokol would've survived the trip to Equestria... Maybe... Maybe she wouldn't have died in her daughter's arms.

Orzel's smile melted away as she set her jaw, her eyes blazing behind her spectacles as she remembered vividly the sensation of Sokol's final breath, and all that warm blood... So much blood... The girl resolved once again to herself, just as she had during the Chaos Wave, that she would never, ever, allow such a day to come pass again. There would be no more children orphaned as she had been, no more unstoppable destruction or unchecked chaos, not without a significant amount of resistance... If Equestria was to go down, it would go down fighting, and if Luna's will of iron had been weakened by Piercing's return...? Well, Orzel would take up the cause as her own...

Gradually the music came to an end and the trio of Princesses stepped back from the railing, now listening intently as the announcer declared that the game would start, just as soon as the National Anthem was sung. On the field below, Orzel observed a contingent of men in the dress uniforms representing the whole of Equestria's armed forces marching out onto the field. Several carried rifles, while others bore a series of standards. At the head of the contingent, held highest aloft, fluttered the Equestrian flag. Behind that was a white field, depicting an eight pointed sun, then came a third a blue field with a white crescent moon... Obviously these were the standards of Celestia and Luna respectively, but a third fluttered not far behind Luna's that Orzel suspected was a very new addition.

Unlike the previous two, carried by an Equestrian Regular and a Lunar Marine respectively, the third was carried by a sailor. The flag was almost identical to that of the Equestrian naval jack, consisting of a series of horizontal blue and white stripes, which in and of itself reminded Orzel of the telnyashkas worn by her Father and other men in the Imperial Navy. Where this flag differed was that at its center, emblazoned with remarkably shiny fabric of some kind, resided the increasingly familiar 'Bronze Dragon' emblem of Orzel's crown...

To many people, Orzel included, flags were more than just colorful fabric. They were symbols, symbols that told the world where one stood, and this symbol seemed to speak quite loudly. Orzel hadn't even known a flag had been made to represent her at all, there hadn't even been mention of it possibly happening. The crowd certainly seemed on board with the display, and Orzel was left feeling quite unsure of herself. Such things normally just... Didn't happen. That the color guard had thought to include her meant a lot, but that she was being represented by Equestria's Navy, a branch with which she felt a considerable connection...? She couldn't put into words the joy that gave her. Of course, she also suspected it was probably Celestia's doing, but the gesture was nonetheless well received.

A woman, whom the announcer identified as a singer known as 'Songbird Serenade', met the color guard at center field. Orzel pondered that for a moment... On the topic of symbols, she'd always found the naming conventions of Equestria were oddly... Specific. The country's name itself, Equestria, wasn't such a mystery to decipher. In the Pre-Equestrian era and beyond, the three tribes that initially founded the country made extensive use of horse cavalry and mounted archers. Horses thus pervaded nearly every facet of daily life, the nation was known widely as 'The land of the horse soldiers', and so the name 'Equestria' took hold. Even today, Equestria's Army still made use of horse cavalry, primarily patrolling the nation's borders and frontiers... Though, 'Mechanized Infantry', 'Armored Cavalry', and other vehicles such as fixed wing aircraft were likely to replace them.

The girl quietly sighed, pushing her headscarf back while the other stadium goers removed their hats. Not long after, the singer began a rendition of 'Equestria, the Gem of the Ocean'. A hush fell once more across the crowd as Miss Serenade, little more than a yellow and black figure from Orzel's vantage point, carried on in a manner that Orzel could best describe as 'Modern'... Taking liberties with certain notes, extending others. The woman reached the nearly final verse, and by this point almost the entire stadium was singing along.

As Serenade was singing the words 'the Army and Navy forever', Orzel was pleasantly surprised to see a formation of airplanes rumble overhead, perhaps only a few hundred feet above the stadium. She could recognize each different plane, primarily by its silhouette. Five L-86 Manticore biplanes, boxy looking single engine fighters, flew at the head of the 'Delta' Formation. A trio of SB-71 'Citadel' Strategic Bombers thundered along behind them, their quartets of radial engines thundering, their fuselages bristling with machine guns. They were monoplanes, constructed from aluminum and painted olive drab like the other Army aircraft, with a single ball turret visible on the belly and one mounted dorsally.

The last trio of aircraft in the flight appeared to also be Manticores, but this was where Orzel relied on their silhouettes. The N-86 'Sea Hare' had slightly canted wings that attached to the aircraft's body at a pair of hinges... It also had a tail hook for carrier landings and, unlike the Army aircraft, was painted a powdery blue, with an off-white underbelly, their tails displaying the familiar blue and white stripes of the naval jack. As the aircraft thundered out of view and the song came to an end, Orzel found herself growing more intrigued by the presence of the N-86s than she was by the game about to begin. She took a seat beside her Mother and her Aunt, but her eyes remained fixed on the horizon.

Monoplanes from other countries were quickly beginning to outperform the biplanes employed by the Army, and Orzel suspected they would soon seek a bid for a domestic monoplane fighter of their own. The Navy would undoubtedly get stuck modifying the L-86s already in service with the Army when, inevitably, the Army replaced it with a monoplane. It would be a simple matter of adding the hinges that would allow the wings to fold back, making it ideal for storage aboard an Aircraft Carrier... Of course, that'd be the only thing 'ideal' about it.

The N-86 was a fine aircraft when it had first been developed, a response to the keel laying of ESS Sokol a few years prior to Orzel's arrival in Equestria. Performance reports indicated it was remarkably stable in a dive, and its biplane nature afforded it a high degree of maneuverability in mock dogfights... Of course, that wouldn't mean much when one realized the N-86, like the L-86, had exactly one .30 caliber machine-gun... The DAC would likely decline the Navy's request for its own monoplane, citing its 'surplus' of 'perfectly good aircraft'. The Navy wouldn't fight the issue because, save a few odd Admirals, they were still almost slavishly devoted to the 'Cult of Big Guns'. They weren't alone in that fact. The Army Air Corps was also almost as criminally under appreciated as Naval Aviation, they just generally had better funding, at least comparatively speaking... Perhaps they'd be better off as their own branch? Now there was an idea for later...

For now Orzel had to focus on the Navy, specifically the disposition of its new Carrier. She'd recently received a letter from Captain Maelstrom. The future commander of ESS Sokol was getting the runaround from the Admiralty... Again. The ship's engineering plant was being delayed due to 'budget restrictions', which, thanks to Celestia, Orzel already knew to be a load of bull-... Bilge water. What was more, several officers deemed vital to the proper operation of the Navy's first Aircraft Carrier had been reassigned, without Maelstrom's knowledge or consent. That irked Orzel, more than it likely should have. Perhaps the fact that the ship in question bore the name of her Birth Mother had something to do with it, or maybe she was just sick and tired of what now seemed to be malicious interference on the part of the senior Naval staff.

The risk of an internal power struggle within the Navy, Equestria's most widely deployed branch of the Armed Forces, also might've played a role. She'd speak to her Mother about it after the game, of course, but doubted that it would do much good. Even if Luna wasn't going soft, as Orzel feared, the woman had used much of her political clout just to get the Navy to actually accept delivery of the ship. As Orzel had no political clout to speak of, she'd need to find more... Creative methods of getting the point about Naval Aviation's permanency across. Just another thing to add to the pile issues and problems forming on her proverbial desk.

The girl shook her head and tried to focus on the baseball diamond, restoring her headscarf back to its previous position as the others replaced their caps. From the center of the diamond, the ceremonial first pitch was thrown, and with a fearsome rumbling voice that could be heard clear over the eager spectators, there came the umpire's gravelly cry. "Plaaaay baaall!."

With another thundering cheer from the crowd, the game started in earnest. The Roughnecks were first at bat, and their first batter strode to the plate with a confidence she'd seen matched only by the Royal Guard. Orzel did her best to remain interested, she honestly wanted to become a fan of 'Equestria's Pastime', but once again her mind was consumed with a whirlwind of thoughts. So many new problems, and so many possible solutions, not a single one of them easy...

Orzel recalled ESS Sokol launch, the leviathan of steel trundling down the slipway, then fighting against the waiting tugs, eager to take the fight to all her foes. As the ship's sponsor, it was Orzel's duty to see its well being, to fight for its future... The carrier would never be ready for sea if Orzel didn't fight for her. Sorting out the Admiralty would be her first order of business upon returning to Canterlot, even before looking into her workshop prospects. She doubted Mother would be pleased afterwards, but the limits of Orzel's power were currently ill defined, and Orzel was counting on that to lessen any backlash. It was easier to apologize than ask permission, and the girl doubted her powers would remain so ambiguous for much longer, best to make use of that card while she had it. Even in the Empire, sometimes the Admiralty needed a little kick in the brass...

Orzel chuckled faintly at the pun, though the sound went unheard beneath the din of the crowd. There was a crack from home plate that rippled through the air like a rifle shot, drawing Orzel from her thoughts just in time to watch the bright white and red baseball sailing up... And up... And... Backwards? A sudden gasp rose from the spectators as both they and Orzel realized the ball was hurtling straight at the Royal Viewing Box, straight at her head. Wincing inwardly in anticipation, as she knew it was coming far too fast to escape, the teen prepared for the inevitable 'Are you alright?' from her Mother. Ultimately she doubted it would do little more than bounce off her forehead, she was a Dragon after all... At worst, it might damage her glasses. With that in mind she didn't allow the coming impact to so much as illicit a cringe, as might've been the case 'Pre-Piercing Gaze'. To all those watching, of which she was sure there were many, the hurtling horsehide may as well have been a passing leaf.

Suddenly Orzel's view was obstructed by a catcher's mitt... No, it was a hand, an incredibly massive hand, which caught the popped foul ball from the air with the ease one would pluck a ripened apple from a tree. Orzel glanced to the right, tracing the hand to the blue woolen sleeve of Grim's dress uniform. The behemoth bodyguard held the baseball between his thumb and index finger like a grape, which he then gently placed in Orzel's palm. His face displayed no sign of discomfort, or any emotion at all... She knew he had to be feeling something, judging by the baseball sized welt taking shape in his palm... It must've really been moving. Examining the baseball in her hand, she nodded cordially at Grim.

"A fine catch, Mister Grim." Orzel nodded in appreciation, to which the monolithic sentinel gave a slight bow before wordlessly sliding back to his post beside the door. The girl glanced down at the baseball, then at Celestia, Luna, and Piercing. The trio seemed stunned, both by the fact she'd almost been whacked in the face by a foul ball, and that she hadn't shrunk away... What was she supposed to do? There were thousands of people, and all were watching for her reaction. It simply wouldn't do to cower from such a paltry threat, especially if she was to build an image of strength and command. "I am quite alright." She added further, experimentally tossing the baseball up and down in her palm.

The player that had hit the ball was looking up at the Royal Viewing Box, obviously mortified. His white uniform and the black batter's helmet identified him as a Roughneck, Number 27, a pegasus fellow by the name of 'Crackerjack'. Orzel was familiar enough with both teams to know this man was actually a fairly well known player, though she was also aware he had a tendency to 'hit or miss'. It seemed that when he hit, he hit. Perhaps she wouldn't have been so fine after all, had the ball found its mark... Not pausing to ponder just what fluke of physics had instigated the strange fly ball, Orzel instead decided to assuage his apparent nervousness.

"Do not stop your game on my account..." She called down to him, then paused, looking once again at the ball. "Though, perhaps adjust your aim?" The girl added with the faintest smile she could allow, which thankfully had the intended effect dissipating Crackerjack's mortification.

To her surprise, Orzel heard a good portion of the crowd nearby chuckle. It had only been intended as a means of assuring the man that there were no hard feelings... The girl might not have been the biggest baseball fan in Canterlot, yet, but she didn't want something like an unintended foul ball to throw off the player's 'groove'. Crackerjack tipped his helmet, his golden wings fluttering in obvious relief, before turning back to face the pitcher's mound. With a confidant stance, apparently taking Orzel's words to heart, he pointed out to left field...

"Not again... He can't possibly do it again..." Orzel heard Celestia mutter quietly, as her family was likewise getting back into the game. The girl had her eyes fixed on the pitcher for the Wildfires, a fairly powerfully built Earth-Walker going by the name of 'Bazooka'. This time Orzel had little trouble focusing on the game, as unlikely as it may have been, she couldn't help worrying history would repeat itself. Crackerjack choked up on his bat, the polished maple surface glinting in the sunlight, while Bazooka wound up for the pitch. A blur of white erupted from his coiled arm, sailing over the infield, curving slightly... Before twisting back in to sail right over home plate.

"Strike two!" The Umpire declared as Crackerjack stepped back from the plate, apparently fearful the pitch might've hit him. Orzel studied the rest of the diamond a bit more closely, there was a runner on first, must've missed that play, and the Wildfires in the outfield seemed particularly antsy. Bazooka caught the ball hurled back by the catcher, straightening his bright orange cap. He shook his head, shook his head a second time, then finally nodded... Orzel found herself on the edge of her seat as Bazooka wound up again, and time came to a crawl when the ball went sailing out of the man's hand. Meanwhile, barreling through the air like an enraged bull, Crackerjack's shining polished cudgel surged forth to meet the coming pitch. It was going to be close...

'Kra-crack!' Ball and bat collided with a tumultuous rippling crack, resulting in a blindingly fast blur of white leather flew out to left field like a cannon ball.... Right where Crackerjack pointed, Orzel realized. It sailed up... Up... Up... Well over the heads of the outfielders, still rising higher and higher, until ultimately it went sailing over the field's back wall, whereupon it was caught by a fellow watching from one of the adjacent rooftops... Needless to say, the crowd went wild.

"...here's wind up... And the pitch!" The radio announcer declared in a scratchy voice. There was a muffled crack of wood, followed by uproarious cheering in the background. "Crackerjack hits it out to left field... It's going... Going... Gone! A home run! Roughnecks lead by two at the top of the first inning!" The voice had become strikingly familiar to Princess Cadence, primarily because as far as sports were concerned, her beloved Shining Armor was a baseball fiend. Whenever the post season came along, she'd find the announcer on the radio any time the two drove together, ate together, or were generally just... Together... To a point that Cadence had to put her foot down as far as having the radio on in the bedroom.

As things were, the two had both completed their daily duties early, and had thus decided to spend it together on the town. They didn't have a destination in mind at present, as the musical they planned to see that evening wasn't set to begin for a few hours... After the game. Of course, the walk included stopping every few blocks whenever they found a small cluster of people gathered around an electronic's store or car radio. While not the largest sports fan in general, Cadence was rooting for the Wildfires, seeing as this was their first Global Series in nearly a decade.

A gust of wind suddenly blew a cluster of leaves along the sidewalk the two stood upon, briefly causing Cadence to shiver as frigid autumn air bit against her cheeks. She instinctively tucked her hands into the pockets of her pink wool coat, her scarf and hair fluttering like the many Equestrian flags hanging from a nearby Police Precinct. The woman yelped slightly her as blue beret, considered the height of fashion at present, was nearly carried away from her head. It was snatched from the air by the lightning reflexes of the well built, and ever courteous, Shining Armor. He stood at her side, his chiseled jaw set, his piercing eyes glittering despite the overcast day. The man wore an olive drab peacoat and coyote brown wool knit cap, far better suited to staying on one's head than her own choice of headgear now that Cadence thought about it. The Princess sighed, fashion was such a fickle thing...

"Thanks, Shiny..." She said, taking the hat and placing it back on her head, her magic flaring in her palms to make it a tad more snug. The announcer was still going at it, but Shining seemed satisfied with the latest report. He didn't seem pleased that the Roughnecks were up by two, and so early in the game no less, but nonetheless was impressed at Crackerjack's play. The man put his arm around Cadence's shoulder as they resumed their walk. "I love Canterlot in autumn, it's... Magnificent..." She added, looking towards the rather spacious 'Statesman Park' to their immediate left, appearing even more so now considering how the numerous trees lining the park's exterior were bare of leaves. By now they'd managed to spread the colorful little specks of russet and crimson in all directions... It wouldn't be long before the first snow fell.

"It's certainly something." Shining said, donning a wry smile as he cocked his head towards her. "Not as magnificent as you, of course." Cadence couldn't suppress a snort, and playfully she smacked the man's side. It wasn't his most creative response, but they couldn't all be zingers. As she recalled, cheesy lines had always been a fixture in his arsenal of courtship, primarily because Cadence couldn't help laughing at them. That was fine with her, she liked to laugh. "Tell me about your day... Blueblood had that 'other arrangement', so how'd it feel running the whole country on your own?" Cadence shrugged, pondering just how describe the odd mixture of boredom and anxiety that came with sitting on the throne.

"I had a few petitioners, and a few minor political brush fires to put out, but mercifully I think everybody's too preoccupied with the game." Cadence finally settled with a shrug, leaning her head against Shining's shoulder. It wasn't the easiest thing to do, he was taller than her, but Shining just had a way of making her feel safe... Cadence knew that he would protect her, as he would anyone, but that didn't diminish the warm sense of safety his mere presence ensured. "It wasn't as bad as when Celestia and Luna were indisposed, thankfully..." She trailed off. "Honestly, if Equestria was a little smaller I don't think I would've minded it so much, but the throne isn't really for me..." Cadence admitted more softly as the pair passed by a bakery, a sign in the front window proclaiming 'Closed For The Game'. "Can you imagine me? Leading an entire country?" Shining evidently didn't agree with her incredulous tone.

"You'd be great at it, better than I could ever be." The man protested, his eyes filled with honest admiration. Cadence looked at Shining skeptically, which caught the man apparently by surprise.

Sure, she could get by when it came to diplomacy and, as recently evidenced, housing reform. Aside from that, and her brief stint serving beside her Cousin during the recent Chaos Wave crisis, Cadence had never felt comfortable with the idea of ruling a country. Shining was far better suited for general leadership, at least in her view. He was the Captain of the Canterlot Royal Guard, one of the most prestigious units in the Equestrian Military. Tens of thousands of soldiers, officers and enlisted alike, sought to join the CRG... Only a handful ever managed to succeed, they were the best of the best, the cream of the cream, and Shining was the man overseeing them all.

"Why do you think Celestia hasn't named me 'Heir to the Solar Throne'?" Cadence began, before holding up a hand. "Not that I want the title, because I don't... It was one of the conditions of me becoming a Princess, you know?" Shining stopped walking and stared at her, stunned, apparently he didn't know... Great. Sniffling slightly from the cold, Cadence tugged him along, hoping to explain as they went. "If I have to, in an emergency, I can hold my own, but it's not a job I'd want for the rest of my life. I can do the fancy wave, I can chat with nobles and dignitaries, and I can certainly dress the part, but..." Cadence conceded finally, glancing down at herself, a slight frown tugging at her lips. "You and I know there's more to being in charge than any of that... First and foremost, you have to want to be in charge. That means taking responsibility for everything and everyone under your reign, and that's... That's just not me. Not now, at any rate..." Shining looked thoughtful, then nodded solemnly.

"I understand..." He stated gently as the two once more walked side by side, his eyes briefly darting upwards as a distant droning horn sounded somewhere in the city. Cadence recognized it as belonging to an airship, likely an arriving cruise vessel. Like the leaves falling from the trees, that sound would gradually become less common as Autumn turned to Winter, and the echoing baritone drone sounded fittingly mournful and lonely. No longer interested in the unseen airship, Shining draped his arm once again around Cadence's shoulders. "Even so, I think you'd do an excellent job, if you ever changed your mind." Shining's voice was filled with sincerity. "Sorry, I'm not so good with this emotional 'big picture' stuff..." He added self consciously.

"Now it's my turn to say you're better than you think." Cadence responded, hugging the man as tightly as she could, nearly toppling him over. "You might not know all the words to express what you feel, but you've got a good heart... Face it, Shiny! You're a big softy." He'd likely attribute it to the cold, but Cadence cold tell the flush that reddened his cheeks was from embarrassment. "Don't worry, I won't tell any of your friends." He kissed her forehead as the two resumed their journey.

"I love you." Shining declared, setting Cadence's heart a'flutter. It wasn't the first time he'd said those words, not even close, but it may as well have been as far as Cadence was concerned. With a growing smile, the woman laced her fingers with Shining's, squeezing his hand four times... It was a little ritual they'd developed when they were still in high school, her way of saying 'I love you too' when she had been unable speak to Shining, as she'd been so flustered and shy at the time. He smiled back at her, obviously understanding the gesture, and in companionable silence they continued down the leaf strewn sidewalk...

After fifteen minutes or so they came across a newsstand, illuminated by strings of light bulbs that glowed a warm golden hue. It was a small structure, more of a glorified shed than anything else, painted forest green and flanked on all sides by tables laden with countless issues of over a dozen different publications. Newspapers, magazines, comic books, even pulp science fiction novels. Despite this vast array of literature, few of those huddled around the structure seemed interested in the daily headlines or even the latest edition of 'The Adventures of Squadron Zero!'. No, this small cluster of people so tightly bundled up for warmth, stood transfixed upon something within the stand itself. The sound was indistinct at this range, but Cadence could tell by the tempo of the speaker the crowd was listening intently to the game.

The couple came to a stop once again, as Shining undoubtedly wanted to hear more of the game. He pushed himself into the crowd, evidently intrigued by the radio in the newsstand. Cadence was still interested, but couldn't keep from examining the various. The papers mostly focused on the latest national headlines... Senior Councilman Spindletop was retiring, and this had inspired other 'Short Timers' to take the same course. With fewer positions to fill following Bill 250, the race to win control of the various newly opened seats had kicked off exceptionally fast. Politics was much more present in her mind than baseball, and she was more drawn to a newspaper depicting the men and women eager to fill said vacant Council seats...

In the running for Lone Star Province was a Mister Longhorn, one of Spindletop's aides, and his 'chosen successor'. He'd be going up against a more experienced politician, Governor Candy Gram, who'd been in the business of public service for longer than Longhorn had been alive... Despite this, Longhorn was the odds on favorite, even having never run for public office before. Gram had aligned himself with the Noble Party during the recent 'Decency Demand Crisis', which had ultimately lead to Bill 250's passage and the formation of the Black Crown Party. Both sides doubted the Governor would last long, as Lone Star was rapidly becoming a Black Crown stronghold. Cadence didn't know the Governor personally, but his involvement in the DDC hadn't won him any favors...

She'd seen the aftermath of the National Council's meddling first hand, having come to know her Cousin Orzel much better. Calm as the girl might've been able to appear to the common person, Cadence could read the deliberately implacable teenager like a book. The girl harbored an awful seething grudge against the National Council, on a level far deeper than perhaps even Orzel was aware... Add to that her extremely volatile Draconic temper and the lingering grief of her Parents' deaths... Orzel wouldn't take it out on the Council directly, Cadence knew that, the girl cared far too much about Equestria to do something so petty... Hopefully. More likely, and worryingly, Cadence suspected the repressed emotion would eventually find another outlet, though perhaps 'target' was the better word.

Her cousin had been on the verge of potentially transforming into a full blown dragon, the sort that leveled city blocks, threw trains like toys, and proved almost impossible to subdue. This outcome was stopped only by Cadence's swift intervention. That brief contact, as the woman was administering the arcane sedative, revealed that they'd just been mere seconds from disaster. Orzel was growing to better control her temper, or at least she wasn't as much at risk of transforming any more, but... Churning inexorably out of view, the well of wrath perpetually bubbled and boiled, waiting to be unleashed. Just the brief mental contact with that cauldron of caustic choler told Cadence that the National Council had been exceptionally lucky. They'd managed to get away with taunting the dragon in its cave... For now... Woe betide that first unfortunate soul to actually provoke the dragon hidden within that diminutive frame to fully leave its den.

Peering more intently at one of the newspapers, Cadence ruminated grimly on the topic of hate and fury. If the race for the Lone Star seat was an almost slam dunk, the race for Canterlot's newly opened seat would be the governmental equivalent of a full contact, no holds barred, cage fight to the death. An unmitigated grudge match, in perhaps a very literal sense. Her Cousin Blueblood had only that afternoon announced his intention to throw his hat into the ring, an unprecedented act for a member of the Crown. His announcement had come following Olympus Solare's own bid for the seat, and no one was quite sure who would win, or who would prove to be the lesser of two evils. It wasn't clear if such a thing was even legal, not that Blueblood cared.

"...Wildfires are down by four at the bottom of the first, bases are loaded, two outs..." The Announcer said, drawing Cadence from her thoughts. Apparently the Roughnecks had edged out another couple runs before the bottom of the inning, and by comparison the Wildfires seemed to be floundering... Already Cadence could tell this was going to be a 'barn burner', as Shining called them. Peering into the newsstand, Cadence was stunned to see a large mahogany box, inset with two dials and a fuzzy, black and white screen... One of those newfangled 'televisions'. "Striding to the plate, it's... It's Clutch Fencebuster!"

Cadence saw the black and white figure of a prodigiously powerful looking man stride confidently towards the plate, bat slung over his shoulder like a rifle, waving casually to the stands. This man was thousands of miles away, yet here she was, watching him like she was actually there. Even in a world of magic, that technological ability impressed her greatly... The crowd of onlookers visibly lurched closer to the television, and at their urging the stand owner increased the volume. Clutch Fencebuster was one of the greatest sluggers in Modern Baseball, just one of the many legendary players currently engaged in the contest of sport in that southern province so far away.

"Fireballer's looking for a pitch she likes... Here comes the wind up... And the pitch!" There was a brief lull from the announcer, then Cadence watched a faint white dot come screaming over center plate like a meteor. Clutch swung for the fences, nearly twisting himself entirely around. "Swung on and missed... One and Oh."

"He'll pull it off..." Shining said softly, tucking his hands into his pockets as another gust of wind fluttered the various papers and magazines, a handful of dull red bricks kept them from taking flight like so many leaves. The announcer continued to rattle off what was happening, not that it was necessary... Another pitch came streaking in, a strike, the next pitch was a ball. "Come on..." The tension was staggering, Cadence found herself leaning against Shining, struggling to get a look at the screen. The pitcher pulled back, the ball came flying and... 'Crack!' Another tremendous shout of excitement erupted in the background, joined by an even heavier crack of wood, as Cadence watched the ball go sailing out of frame while the bat disintegrated.

"Clutch's bat just flew apart like kindling! High fly, down the center, looks like Deuce is trying to get under it... The Announcer declared, the camera rapidly panning to catch sight of a man searching for something in the sky... Shining's face went pale, as did many others in the crowd, though several appeared hopeful. Judging by the Roughnecks hats they wore, she could understand why. "It's over the outer wall, he knocked it out of the park! A grand slam! Wildfires and Roughnecks are tied four to four at the bottom of the first inning! It's a brand new ballgame, folks!" The announcer's voice was nearly drowned out by the screaming of the crowd behind him, as it seemed fans from both teams were screaming in admiration of what had just transpired, the field being briefly obstructed by the bodies of jumping, celebrating people.

"Man, I wish we could've been there to see that in person..." Shining mumbled with slight dejection, despite the look of satisfaction in his eyes. "Hopefully they're getting recordings of this from different angles, I bet that play's gonna be in every highlight reel from now 'til the end of time." He added a bit more positively, obviously entranced by what they'd all just witnessed. Cadence smiled and gently rubbed his shoulder while the cheering continued in the background. The cluster of eager watchers were likewise cheering, some were even hugging one another, indeed it sounded as if the entire city was crying out in adulation.

Cadence's eyes passed about the crowd, and gradually her smile grew. As much as she might've enjoyed seeing the play as it happened on the television, what she saw before her was just as awesome a sight. Undoubtedly they all had somewhere to be, as all of Equestria didn't shut down for one game, even if it seemed like it did. Newsboys and stock brokers, factory workers and tycoons, all had gathered round that tiny unassuming shack in spite of frigid temperatures and bitter winds. There, so tightly clustered round the television, all that separated the two groups was little more than what ball cap they wore.

What was more, this game was only the first of seven, so similar such gatherings would happen at least six more times. This was the true reason that Cadence had come to love baseball as she did... Not for feats of strength or agility, nor statistics or even its overall entertainment value. It was Equestria's pastime, a unifying force, around which all could rally together. Rich and poor, Noble or Black Crown, all ceased to matter as soon as the caps came on and the first pitch was thrown. For a few fleeting hours, the politics and ills of society just didn't matter anymore. All that mattered... Was the game...

The atmosphere within the confines of Alfredo's Bistro was at it always had been... Quiet, warm, and harboring a smell of garlic so potent that any vampire unfortunate enough to enter would thereupon drop dead. Alfredo's had been the principle restaurant of Prince Blueblood for as long as anyone cared to remember, though it wasn't known to the public exactly why. Most knew Alfredo's as the caterers of the Grand Galloping Gala, but that hardly seemed reason enough for him to be so fond of the place... The food was excellent, the wine selection superb, the staff friendly and polite, but even these traits hardly warranted the Prince's devotion to eating there. It was just one of those mysteries that'd likely never receive an answer...

Blueblood of course knew the reason with a fair bit of clarity. Even as he sipped gently from his glass of wine, reclining comfortably in his favored booth, his mind harkened back to a dreary winter day so many years ago. Tumbling snowflakes filled the air, air that had chilled his younger self to the core. He'd always been sickly as a lad... It was a time well before he'd ever heard the title 'Prince', when he was still just referred to as 'Master Blueblood' by his family's servants and various revolving door of nannies charged with his care.

That particular storm had been a rogue, which had become exceptionally bad after breaking free from Cloudsdale, and so it was with reticence that Blueblood's nanny at the time entered the front door of Alfredo's. The smell that greeted his young nostrils was identical to that which he sat in now, and conjured to mind images of several get-togethers he'd spied upon within the servants' quarters. So lively and filled with joy, a stark contrast to the regimented constraints and almost disinterested coldness of his parents and nannies. The waitress at the time, a pretty plump teenager by the name of Angel Hair, had welcomed he and his nanny warmly...

She'd sat him down in that very booth, brought him a glass of chocolate milk, gone out of her way to make him feel at home. It was the first time he'd ever known what that actually felt like. Upon being dragged away he'd never been able to forget the place, or the distress he would feel whenever he ate with his parents. Realizing that it was likely he'd never feel that way again, Blueblood had gotten low... Very low... That... Sadness had abated considerably upon his first meeting with his Aunt Celestia, whom had welcomed him into the Royal Family with just as much warmth as Luna accepted his Cousin Orzel. When she'd asked him where he wanted to go to celebrate, he didn't need very long to think.

It was only now, as an adult, that Blueblood was able to return to Alfredo's whenever he so chose. When he did so, once a week at least, it was exclusively by himself. Each and every time he sat in that same booth, affording him that small window into the kitchen, at the many cooks and chefs working like mad within. The walls were the same warm reddish-tan color, obviously drawing inspiration from the villas that speckled the hills of distant Stivale. Curling vines of ivy lingered overhead, carefully manicured for aesthetic purposes, the green serpent-like plants otherwise coiling around any surface they could. Peering back into the kitchen, Blueblood was reminded of a motion picture he'd once seen... A newsreel, about a great coal powered steamship, he couldn't recall the name... The men working in that hellaciously hot fire room, shoveling coal into the boilers... The kitchen couldn't compare to that chamber of fire, but Blueblood suspected it was as close as he'd ever come to witnessing it himself.

Leaning back in the plush leather booth seat, Blueblood's eyes fell upon the seat ahead of him. As it had been whenever he visited Alfredo's, the space was empty. Unlike other times, however, his eyes settled upon an untouched glass of wine and a menu that had yet to be picked up... Sighing faintly, his stomach growling in protest, the Prince looked at his own menu with dejected resignation. At first he'd hoped the woman that he intended to meet, as charming a creature as ever there was, was just running late. He supposed she'd reconsidered what being seen with him would do to her image in Canterlot, and Blueblood didn't blame her for that. Image was everything in Canterlot, after all...

"Signore Blueblood?" A woman's faintly accented voice drew him from his thoughts, and rapidly Blueblood turned to face the speaker. She was a tad plumper than when first he'd met her, dressed in a conservative Stivale fashion, but despite being at least ten years his senior she was still quite stunning. Angel Hair appeared slightly apologetic, her fingers laced together across her stomach. "There is a young woman wishing to join your table? She say she's a... Miss Rarity?" Blueblood's heart skipped a beat, and rapidly he straightened in his seat. "I know you say you were waiting for guest, but I wanted to ensure it was the right person. This is the woman you are waiting for, si?"

"Yes, that's her, Miss Angel Hair. Thank you for your concern..." Blueblood offered respectfully, nodding with a growing sense of hope. "Please, send her along?" Angel Hair nodded, disappearing from view towards the front of the restaurant. The booth he currently occupied was at the very rear of the establishment, free from prying eyes and the noise of idle conversation.

Blueblood had only a few moments to adjust the collar of his white button down dress shirt, he wanted to be as presentable as possible. Looking at the kitchen window again, to his surprise there were a few line cooks stealing glances towards him. Of course they were curious, this was the first time he'd ever invited someone to what he considered his 'happy place'... A few flashed him encouraging grins before returning to their work. Blueblood couldn't suppress a smile, his cheeks flushing slightly... They were like a bunch of big brothers and sisters, he'd undoubtedly get a good ribbing from the wait staff the next time he visited. Funny, that... Looking forward to ridicule, good natured as it might have been.

It was around then that the woman he'd waited for stepped into view... Dressed in an elegantly simple white evening gown, her flowing violet hair coiffed and curled, her flawless alabaster skin seemed to glow even in the dull yellow light of the overhead light bulbs. Her eyes were deep shimmering pools of sapphire, glimmering with eminent poise and compassion. Oddly, though perhaps not unexpectedly, she wore a light blue sash. Much like that his Cousin tended to wear to official functions. Like his Cousin's, it served no real function other than looking pretty, which it did very well.

Whether she realized it or not, his cousin had influenced Equestrian fashion... An irony that wasn't lost on him, considering some of whinging hurled her way. Blueblood's smile grew wider as he fully took his guest in, and so the man quietly stood from his seat to greet his date more properly. She offered her hand, clad in a white glove, and the Prince readily bowed to kiss it. She was radiant...

"Lady Rarity..." He greeted as he rose, pleased to see her cheeks blushing a bright crimson. "I had feared you reconsidered our meeting..." Blueblood added somewhat sheepishly as the woman took her seat, and of course he joined her on the opposite side of the table in his customary seat. Rarity smiled apologetically, glancing about the quiet nook he'd reserved for the two of them. "Given the... Eh... First impression I made in the Gardens."

The incident in question had come shortly after he'd left the party proper, when he had nearly bowled over the finely attired dress maker on his way to sample an Apple Fritter. He had done away with the facade of a posh horse's ass for the duration of the Gala, allowing him to indulge in some of his more deeply hidden tastes. Rarity had been most understanding, and not immediately put off by his appearance... How could she know his less than savory reputation, coming from Ponyville as she did? Blueblood was grateful for that, she was a wonder to behold... So smart, so generous... Keeping to his regular behavior undoubtedly would've driven her away.

"I must apologize, your Highness. It wasn't my intention to give that impression." Rarity explained modestly. "If I had reconsidered, I would at least be courteous and inform you." Blueblood raised an eyebrow at the use of 'Your Highness', he'd hoped they were past that sort of thing. As if reading his mind, Rarity blushed a bit less noticeably. "Forgive me again... I meant Blueblood..." The man only nodded, leaning on the table, unable to hide his curiosity. "You've no idea how difficult it was to find a cab from the train station, it seems almost the entire city is shut down to listen to that game..."

"It's quite alright, I'd forgotten the game was today... It's my own fault for not sending a car for you." Blueblood conceded, though he couldn't suppress a smirk. He wasn't much of a baseball fan, of course, but the city 'shutting down' for the Global Series was a yearly occurrence... Much like the falling of the leaves, or the Grand Galloping Gala, it just wouldn't be Autumn without it. "I trust the rest of your trip went well?" Rarity nodded, quietly picking up the menu before her. There was a quiet cheer from within the kitchen, and both turned as they heard the muffled sound of a radio being turned up beyond.

"It was pleasant enough." Rarity answered, thumbing through the pages with a curious look in her eyes. "I'm a bit curious as to why you chose Alfredo's... I realize they cater Castle functions, but..." Blueblood paused for a moment, he wasn't sure he trusted Rarity enough to give his true reasoning... Not yet. Then again, she was the first woman he'd ever felt comfortable taking to Alfredo's... That had to count for something, didn't it?

Romance wasn't something Blueblood was used to, not in an actual 'romantic' sense. He had been in other relationships, but they were more often than not predicated on the accomplishment of a political goal. The man made it a point to make that clear early on, as using people tended to make it difficult for him to sleep at night. The way he felt about Rarity was different, and brief as their first meeting had been, he hadn't been able to get her out of his thoughts... They'd exchanged letters, spoken on the phone, and not once had he felt the need to confess to any ulterior motives... There were none.

As for her question, it easily could've been deflected with a question of his own, parry the blow and counter. That was tactic he reserved for his enemies, not someone like Rarity. So he settled on the truth, of a sort... Old habits die hard.

"Nostalgia, I suppose." Blueblood explained casually, looking at his own menu, still laying neatly before him. He hadn't needed to read from the menu in years, as he'd committed most of its dishes to memory. He had only ever ordered one dish in all the years he'd been coming to Alfredo's, with very little deviation, but it was a pleasant reminder that Angel Hair was always thinking he might want to try something new. "The atmosphere is warm, the food is superb, and the employees are discrete." He added, taking a sip from his glass. "I've recently taken some political steps that might warrant a crowd if we were to visit another establishment, and I wanted this evening to be just between the two of us."

Rarity looked contemplatively between him and her menu, he had to wonder just what the woman would order... She didn't strike him as a fan of Stivale cuisine... More likely she'd prefer a Prench restaurant, but there were few in Canterlot that Blueblood dared show his face in again. Then again, wasn't this what legitimate courtship was about? Learning what one another liked and disliked, working out how two different people could come together and compliment each other? Blueblood smiled faintly at the thought, he had a good feeling about Rarity... That was rare. Angel Hair returned before he could continue, pen and pad in hand, and quickly she took their orders. Blueblood ordered spaghetti and meatballs, as always, while Rarity opted for eggplant Parmesan... Interesting.

"I saw your face in the paper, though I must admit I've not been keeping up with Canterlot's latest happenings." Rarity continued after Angel Hair departed, taking a sip from her own glass. Her eyes widened for a moment, and Blueblood briefly worried the newspaper would sour the moment. "Is this Chateau Jean-Luc?" She exclaimed, and the Prince could only nod. "My goodness, Blueblood..." She appeared genuinely touched by the gesture, which Blueblood had hoped for, though he hadn't expected such a reaction. "It's nearly three thousand Bits for a single glass! Really, you shouldn't have."

"Nonsense, I didn't spend a single Bit..." Blueblood smiled, swirling his own glass. "The bottle was one of several gifted to me by the Prench Prime Minister during last years economic conference. I was saving this one for a special occasion, I'm told it was a good year for Jean-Luc." The man nodded towards her, setting his glass on the the table's pristine white table cloth. "I can think of no better occasion than to share it with someone like you..." There was nothing wrong with a little flattery, so long as he didn't get carried away. "We've not had a chance to really get to know one another, I know you're a fashion designer, and that you're a member of the Element Bearers, but I must confess that is all."

"Hmm, well, where best should I begin?" Rarity mumbled thoughtfully, rubbing her chin, her eyes darting up and away as if searching for the answers in the air above. Blueblood wouldn't complain, as the overhead lights cast their light into the gorgeous glittering pools of blue that so enthralled him. "It's true that I am a designer, though admittedly I'd prefer to be more of a 'trend setter' than anything else." The woman glanced down at her sash, smirking faintly at what it represented. "Though, I suppose I'm not above following them once in a while... After all, they wouldn't be trends otherwise." The woman trailed off, sighing pleasantly. "And sometimes, I do my very best to buck them... My being here, for one." Blueblood raised an eyebrow, and Rarity gave that lyrical laugh of hers. "Come now, Blueblood... I'm not entirely ignorant to the happenings of Canterlot, people talk." Blueblood was about to speak, but she raised a calming hand.

"I'd heard rumors of your behavior prior to the Gala, though I'd suspected they were greatly exaggerated." Rarity continued, pursing her bee stung lips. "I admit, I'm not a creature of politics, but I like to think I have a fairly decent sense when it comes to judging one's character." Blueblood smiled faintly at that, that was one less awkward conversation he would need to have later. "Really, though, as much as I enjoy hearing the sound of my own voice, it's only fair that you get a turn to speak."

Blueblood nodded and began to speak, only to be interrupted as a sudden chorus of cheers and yells erupted from the kitchen. They didn't settle down as they had before, and seemed to only grow in intensity, before a rather flustered looking Angel Hair ran to the window and began shouting something in Stivalean, which quickly brought the noise back under control. Blueblood couldn't help a sense of mild curiosity as to just what it was that resulted in such a celebration. Obviously someone had just made an incredible play, but the radio remained muffled and impossible to discern. Looking back at Rarity, he chuckled cautiously.

"Perhaps we should have our food to go? The Castle would be a far less interrupted place to speak, wouldn't you agree?" Rarity looked at him dubiously, and inwardly he cringed, fearing he'd come on too strong. He hadn't contemplated the implications of his suggestion, else he might've worded it differently. The woman nonetheless shrugged, smiling good naturedly. Perhaps the evening wasn't lost after all...

"I don't mind sitting here for our meal. We can go to the castle afterwards, if the mood still strikes us." Rarity punctuated this by taking another sip of her wine. "Truth be told, I'm a tad... What's the word? Gun-shy?" The woman chuckled faintly, briefly casting a look around before leaning closer. "Last time I was there, I found myself whisked away to deal with that nasty Discord business..." Blueblood nodded in understanding, lacing his fingers together on the table. "So, you mentioned meeting with the Prench Prime Minister, that must've been exciting! Did he visit here or did you get the chance to go to Prance?" The man allowed a wider smile to cross his features.

"I was the one that went to Prance, yes." He nodded, recalling the trip rather wistfully. "Beautiful country, lovely people, my only complaint would be that I was there in an official capacity." Blueblood explained plainly, pursing his lips at the thought. "I would've loved to visit for the sake of visiting, none of the pomp and circumstance, but..." He shook his head. "No one in the Royal family can just 'visit for the sake of visiting', our very presence somewhere breeds controversy, it says 'This is important, pay attention!'." The man could see Rarity pondering his words.

"I suppose as an Element bearer I've had some similar experiences..." The woman admitted, crossing her arms as she spied the wine still swirling in her glass. "Not to such an extent, I admit, but my business has done remarkably well in the time since I started saving Equestria." Blueblood's eyes drifted back to the kitchen, several of the kitchen staff were still occasionally sneaking glances.

"Count yourself fortunate that celebrity has been a boon." The Prince cautioned, turning his full attention back to Rarity. "Tell me more about Ponyville, I hear it's a rather... Special place." Rarity smiled again, once more filling Blueblood with a sensation of considerable happiness. From that point on, the Prince listened intently as Rarity described life in the bucolic township of Ponyville.

The strange happenings only made up a fraction on of what happened there, only happening once a month or so. Typically they were easily resolved with some creative thinking and friendly understanding. It sounded almost impossible for such a thing to be possible, things being how they were in Canterlot. Blueblood was totally enthralled by the time their meals arrived, and almost forgot to thank Angel Hair for another display of excellent service. Life in Ponyville sounded... Peaceful... Tranquil... The sort of place where people looked out for one another. It wasn't perfect, as Rarity freely attested, but compared to what Blueblood saw and heard from day to day...? From that point on the two of them talked about all manner of subjects, from the weather, to their favorite authors, composers, and play-writes.

It'd been an hour or so since first sitting down when they'd finished their meals, and Blueblood offered to drive Rarity to the train station. She pointedly reminded him that the 'mood still struck her', much to the Prince's surprise. As always he left a sizable tip, gave his compliments to the chef, and just like that they were off. They departed to the Castle, talking in the car all along the way, and for the first time in Blueblood's life he didn't feel bad about saying goodbye to Alfredo's. The driver incidentally had the radio on, allowing the Prince a brief moment to hear the latest on the game.

"The score's tied five to five as we go into the seventh inning stretch, and the crowd is looking pretty pleased at that. After so many great plays, who can blame 'em?" The announcer proclaimed, sounding both exhausted and excited. While Blueblood was marginally interested in that, he was far more interested in Rarity, and it was at that point he stopped listening altogether.

Director Orcus strode quietly through the hallways of Canterlot's Nocturne Headquarters, his features hardened, his eyes hidden beneath his spectacles. The man was far from unhappy and, despite his unwavering scowl, was more or less moving with what he would deem confident optimism. The Lone Star Roughnecks had just won the first game of the Global Series, and while he had little interest in either of the teams, the game itself tended to mean that the crises faced by the Nocturne Agency for the day were comparatively light. Tomorrow would be a different story, but tonight would hopefully be smooth sailing.

The hallways of Nocturne HQ were surprisingly well appointed, adorned with photographs from successful operations and paintings of famous Agents, not to be circulated outside the building. Usually the air was heavily laden with the smell of paper, ink, and other office supplies. Tonight, however, those were drowned by the smell of fresh paint. Even as he was thinking of the day of calm, Orcus passed several men applying a fresh coat of paint to a nearby wall, as well as a trio of electricians rewiring an electrical panel, all of whom paid him little mind. That was fine, he didn't want to interrupt them anyway. Quiet days were so rare, and it was a prime opportunity for the facility's maintenance staff to get some work down without interruption.

The Director adjusted his tie with his left hand, as his right currently occupied by a smoldering cigarette. Fortunately Orcus was ambidextrous, so it wasn't that much of an adjustment... Besides, in a few short minutes he'd be aboard the elevator, on his way down to the ground floor, then home. Turning down one of the brightly lit hallways, his shoes echoing loudly against the black marble floor, the Director found his mind wandering to the event that had made him so busy in the recent months, and would see him busy for the foreseeable future as well. Not the Discord Incident, that was just another of the innumerable after effects...

The fates were sometimes easy to see, like as the silty bottom of an otherwise crystalline clear lake. Other times, whenever something unexpected happened, Orcus' visions of the future were obstructed. Small disturbances jostled the mirror surface and stirred up the sediment below the lake's surface, and only the passage of time would make the visions clear again... Lately, due to the event on which he pondered, he had been unable to even divine even the simplest of outcomes. The outcome of the next big game, for example. The sudden casting of a great stone into the shimmering waters of fortune had stirred the sediment of fate into an incomprehensible miasma.

The ripples left in the wake of the stone's impact were still ongoing, and Orcus doubted the Discord Crisis and subsequent after-effects would improve matters either. The Arrival Incident was the great 'stone', that which had thrown so much of what he did out of alignment. It'd violently disrupted the otherwise tranquil surface of the Arcane Barrier, and if that wasn't bad enough, likely stirred evil powers long dormant from their slumber. In just the past week he'd heard increased chatter from all known corners of the world.

Coups in Zebrica, rapid political polarization on the domestic front, talks of insurgency and secession in the Griffon Empire... These were all meager concerns by comparison to what he suspected would be Equestria's next potential disaster. An overall increase in the activity of the occult, and mentions of 'formless horrors' of blackest night... Creatures capable of altering their shape to that of, well, anything. He knew all to well what that meant. Changelings hadn't been encountered by the Nocturne Agency in centuries, and to Orcus' knowledge they'd just... Disappeared.

Except, when it came to the strange and bizarre, nothing ever just disappeared. Things that did tended to have a nasty habit of reappearing at the most inopportune of times, and the Arrival Incident only confirmed that. Granted, the remains taken into custody following that night were primitive 'de-evolved' specimens, but where two emerged, others were sure to follow. The Director recalled all too well Piercing's dissertation on the legendary 'Abyssal War', one he'd received shortly after the man's return to the fold.

The question of where the Changelings went had become an especially concerning one of late. As far as he was concerned they they were still out there, still scheming in the shadows, and they would do so with impunity until such time as their location was discovered. Even that didn't worry him on its own, but when taken into context with the arrival of Princess Orzel...? That was when things tended to grow out of proportion, especially given the girl's generally reclusive nature.

The Princess's arrival coincided with the increased difficulty Orcus faced in terms of divining the future... She was the only known surviving member of a species of dragons that did battle with the Changelings and the powers of purest evil in that most forgotten of ancient wars. Add to that the presence of an 'ancestral sword', strange and wondrous powers, even her adoption by Luna into a position of considerable influence. In the Director's experience, that tended to point towards the fulfillment of some sort of prophecy. That wasn't all, there'd been other odd happenings with regards to objects related to her arrival, such as the theft of certain items form an arcanely sealed morgue. It was difficult not to feel that powers beyond the comprehension of mortal minds were at work.

Prophecies were typically Celestia's bag, but the problem with this particular situation was a lack of any historical account of any such prophecy. Finding it, if it did exist, would prove next to impossible, courtesy of the ancient cleansing of almost all Kwarczkie lore by Lord Pyrite the Liar. What was more, it just as well could've been coincidence, and if Orcus pursued the 'Prophecy' angle he risked missing the signs of other solutions. He'd also need to have a conversation with Luna and Piercing, one that would undoubtedly become tense... If they agreed that there might be some unknown prophecy at work, it'd be an even more awkward conversation with Princess Orzel herself.

Ultimately he decided that there'd need to be some field work done to ascertain whether such a prophecy was in play or not, but to do so would require both time and patience. First and foremost, they needed to know just where to look. Fortunately, Piercing's knowledge of the Kwarczkie civilization was extensive... Hopefully he could steer them in the right direction, because if he couldn't...? If the ultimate conclusion of that prophecy came about before they knew just what it was they were looking for? Countless lives would be lost...

By the time the Director came to a stop in front of the elevator, his scowl had actually deepened, and any relaxation he might've felt before had since evaporated. Pressing the call button, the man took a lengthy drag from his cigarette, exhaling a considerable cloud of smoke. He watched his reflection in the polished steel doors, slightly warped by the un-even surface of the metal. He'd need to grab another pack of cigarettes on his way home... That too would need to wait, however. There was something about air around him, the way the floor felt beneath his shoes, a slight buzzing sound in the corner of his mind. Something was stirring, he could sense it... Moments later, frantic footfalls echoed down the hallway behind him, just as he heard the hum of the approaching elevator car.

The man crushed his nearly finished cigarette into a nearby standing ashtray, then took one of the last fresh ones from his pack. Smooth as clockwork he lit up, just in time to exhale another cloud of smoke as the owner of the footsteps came skidding to a halt a few feet behind him. In one swift movement he turned, finding a pegasus man attired in the brown uniform of a Technical Sergeant serving the Equestrian Army Air Corps. Orcus' dour expression had little impact on the man's stern stature, his feathery red wings likewise remained unruffled.

"Sir, we may have a problem in ADZ Seven." The man stated simply, gesturing down another stretch of the hallway. Orcus nodded without a word, ponderously following the soldier down the hallway, until finally he arrived at the door to a cramped and dimly lit office space.

Ideally suitable for ten people at most, the room housed twice that number at present. Every inch of wall-space was occupied by metal consoles that stretched from floor to sealing, each serving a different purpose, all illuminated by various flashing lights of differing color. Some were inset with Cathode Ray Tube screens, the state of the art displays streaming with various lines of text or other necessary information... The rest of the equipment, however, was so obsolete it might very well have been pulled out of a dump somewhere. The consoles were manned by men and women of the Army Air Corps, who watched the monitors intently, their ears shrouded beneath bulky headphones.

This was the SIRC, or 'Strategic Intelligence Response Center', more commonly referred to as 'The Circus' or ironically 'Big Top'. The brain child of a particularly forward thinking General, it'd proved just as difficult to secure funding for its establishment as had been the case with ESS Sokol. By comparison, setting up all this equipment was a far less costly endeavor than building an aircraft carrier. Even so, just providing the SIRC with what meager technology it possessed had nearly bankrupted the project.

In theory, the SIRC could serve as a 'Control Center' for all of Equestria's Armed Forces in times of crisis. In practice, given its lack of funding and limitations of its equipment, the SIRC was little more than a glorified weather station and air traffic control center. Biting his lower lip, the Director quietly made his way along the outside of the otherwise darkly lit chamber, the only appreciable light coming from a glowing map of Equestria's southern border on the various screens. It was more than enough to see by...

"Sarge!" A Specialist suddenly shouted from the far side of the room, his head rising from the console as the Technical Sergeant and the Director made their way over. Curious, Orcus silently loomed over the Specialist's shoulder, staring at the harshly glowing screen with intrigue. "Outpost Baker is still reporting three bogies in ADZ Seven." Orcus bit his lip, sighing through his nose as the report came in another screen. This one was circular, with a line sweeping around its interior from the center. Three large indistinct blots appeared as it passed over a section of the screen, gradually fading, only to reappear as the line passed over it again. "No eyes yet, but they suspect Reavers."

"Verify that these aren't signal phantoms, and alert General Warhawk at Firebrand. We may have a possible incursion in Air Defense Zone Seven. Then get me a location on the Princesses and their security detail. If they're still there, I want them out of Calico as soon as possible. Comet Protocol is in effect." Orcus ordered the Technical Sergeant, the man nodded and made his way to a red telephone on a nearby desk, leaving Orcus to examine the screen over the Specialist's shoulder.

Situated along Equestria's southerly border with the Southern Dragonlands, ADZ Seven had a sparse population, save for the city of Calico... Capital of Lone Star Province, where the Global Series had wrapped up some hours ago... Hopefully the Princesses were already on their way back. The ride from Calico to Canterlot by train could be a lengthy one, typically due to speed regulations and other limitations. Comet Protocol would clear the tracks of any traffic to make way for the Royal train, and additionally authorized the engineers of said train to travel at maximum speed whenever safe. With any luck, the Princesses would be back in Canterlot before Zero-One-Hundred Hours.

The three blips on the map shifted in appearance to red triangles, with small blobs of text identifying them as 'Bogey 1', Bogey 2' and Bogey 3' respectively. A soft chattering began to fill the room, the other operators were verifying there were no further targets in other sectors. It would take time to be completely sure, there were two dozen sectors and only so many free sets of eyes. Typically, Orcus wouldn't have held any delay against them, Reaver raids were exceptionally rare in the Autumn, but perhaps he'd allowed things to become too lax.

"Confidence is high! I repeat, confidence is high, these are not sensor phantoms!" The Technical Sergeant announced forcefully, holding a telephone receiver against his chest. Orcus made his way towards a set of stairs, rising to the second level and approaching the center of the room. "It's a bit difficult to tell in the dark, but Baker has partial visual confirmation that three airships may be bearing Reaver colors, course North-Northwest, bearing Zero-Two-Zero! War Hawk is awaiting authorization to scramble his alert fighters." Orcus noted that fairly quickly the names on the screen changed to 'TGT 1' and so on

"By the time we have authorization the enemy will be too close, tell him to do it on my authority. When you're done, I want you to phone the Castle and get me on the line with either Princess Cadence or Prince Blueblood! Get them on the party line, let's make sure our planes are cleared to take the shot if they need to!" Orcus ordered as he traced the line on the screen, a chill running down his spine. "After that I want you to call Colonel Archer at Meadowbrook Arsenal! I want him to deploy every SASC he has immediately in the enemy's path."

"That's not the correct procedure, sir." The Technical Sergeant objected.

"If we go by procedure they'll be above Calico before the first plane leaves the tarmac, now do it! When you're done with all that, call Field Marshal Arcturus and Field Marshal Redwood in as soon as possible, put them on the party line as well." Orcus countered, tensely taking a drag on his cigarette as he watched the 'TGT' markers gradually increasing in speed. The Technical Sergeant didn't hesitate after that, returning to his task. This would've been so much easier of the SIRC had just a few more men, or a few more modern pieces of equipment...

Like much of Equestria's government, the Equestrian military could at times be tedious in its procedures and protocols. It could get a job done if given ample time to get all the proper paperwork in order, especially if the Princesses made it a top priority, as was the case with Project Tartarus. When it came to emergency deployments, however, red tape could be almost as much a hindrance as concertina wire. Orcus had reviewed the reports following the Discord Crisis, specifically the Princesses' deployment of men from the Signal Corps to better improve communications... Just that simple task, sending one team of signalmen to each town designated as vital, had been delayed by nearly an hour due to a combination of frayed nerves and improperly filled 'Deployment Forms'. Were Equestria to find itself abruptly in a state of war, or even a skirmish as seemed to be unfolding now, the amount of casualties that might be inflicted as a result of tangled communications lines and other non-essentials was a number Orcus didn't want to contemplate.

The Reaver Clan certainly wouldn't wait patiently while forms were checked and re-checked. They were criminal outlaws and renegades, even among the Southern Dragonlands. Diplomatically, they had no official ties to their fellow dragons, and were just as likely to attack other Clans as they were literally anyone else. It'd been that way for as long as Orcus could remember, even when he'd served the Thestral Imperium. Piercing had gone off on tangents on where they'd come from, though Orcus hadn't paid much attention... Much as Orcus liked him, the man had a tendency to ramble...

There were still occasional skirmishes between Equestrian settlements and raiders from below the border, as most smaller Dragon Clans still had a desire to raid settlements. These were typically driven off by a combination of local militia and the Lone Star Rangers, both of which could respond to a threat in a quarter of the time it took the Army Air Corps or Territorial Garrison. When it came to legitimate threats, however, none were quite so loathsome or honorless as the Reavers. When they attacked, they attacked in force, and there was next to nothing that could be done to stop them short of killing every last one.

These airships in particular were on a direct course for Calico... A city the Reavers typically deemed too dangerous to assail, unless there was considerable chance of reward. That reward, in this case, being the Princesses, or so Orcus suspected... It didn't matter that the Princesses alone were likely a bigger threat to the Reavers than the Army Air Corps and Territorial Garrison combined, in the Reavers' warped minds capturing and ransoming the Princesses off would net them a gigantic prize.

"Targets just crossed into Equestrian airspace, sir." The Specialist at the console explained, pointing to the screen, on which the three 'TGT' markers had crossed over a dotted white line. "Target destination is Calico, ETA thirty minutes." The man rubbed at his chin, then looked up at Orcus. "Sir, maybe we should get on the horn with the Lone Star Weather Bureau? See if they can shift a head wind in that direction, maybe slow 'em down?" It was admittedly a good idea, but again, it'd take too long to implement. Orcus merely shook his head.

"Sir, we're patched in to Firebrand's comms." Someone announced from the back of the room, wordlessly Orcus gestured for them to pipe it through. On the off chance the Reavers responded it'd give him a better idea just what sort they were dealing with, maybe even give them some intelligence on where this particular set of airships might've departed from.

"...attention unidentified airships, this is Firebrand Army Air Base. You have entered into the Equestrian Air Defense Zone. Identify yourselves and reverse your heading immediately or you may be fired upon." A harsh sounding voice crackled through a set of speakers mounted to the wall. Orcus crossed his arms, scowling heavily as he took another drag on his cigarette. Typically he wouldn't have been so nervous, but with everything else on his mind, it was hard not to be a little on edge.

"Sir, SASCs are deploying." The Technical Sergeant stated quietly from the telephone, Orcus nodded quietly, exhaling the smoke through his nose. Surface to Air Spell-Casters were generally quick to deploy, as typically they could just teleport wherever they needed to go. The effectiveness of their spells would be limited by individual skill, as well as their ability to see the target. At night, the successful kill rate against a given target was typically ten percent, if that. Actual Anti-Aircraft guns, or interceptors from Firebrand, would've been far more preferable. Still, it was better than nothing.

"I say again! Unidentified airships, you have entered Equestrian Airspace! Identify yourselves and reverse your heading or you may be fired upon! If you cannot respond via radio, alter your heading to zero-nine-zero to acknowledge." The insistent voice demanded, again there was little in the way of response. A series of blue hexagons appeared on the screen, five miles directly ahead of the three 'TGT's, popping in one after the other... The SASCs.

"Nyet! Nyet! No shoot! Comm-pass no good! No speak Eck-wist-ran! We go beck!" A slightly haggard, vaguely reptilian, voice suddenly squawked back. It wasn't uncommon for the Reavers to respond with a similar ruse, though it'd never worked. The truth would be revealed when, if, the airships altered their course. Despite the general racket of the machinery, the atmosphere in the SIRC became abruptly tense... All eyes glued to their scopes, all ears turned towards the speakers.

Nearly a minute passed, and just as the markers were about to enter the range of the SASCs.... They began moving in the opposite direction. An audible sigh of relief went up throughout the SIRC, not the least of which came from Orcus himself. All eyes remained on the markers until they'd finally vanished from the sensor screens. Sometimes a crisis would avert itself, those were the best kinds of crisis... There would still need to be an investigation, but odds were the 'confirmation' of enemy airships would be attributed to the darkness of night or other such obstructions. Thankfully, someone aboard the airships actually responded to the radio calls, otherwise they very well could've opened fire on a Non-Reaver airship. An international incident was a headache Orcus didn't need tonight.

"Inform the SASCs and all pertinent commands... Recall any deployed personnel, stand down to Alert Status Yellow." Orcus ordered evenly, taking another drag on on his cigarette. It'd probably take an hour before his orders were actually carried out, double that if the paperwork got fudged somewhere.

Orcus would've liked to have the authority to order a restructuring of the military's communication and deployment protocols. Though technically one had to hold the rank of a Field Marshal in the Lunar Marines to hold the office, it was outside the purview of the Director of the Nocturne Agency to dictate protocol to the other branches. It could only come from within, or by order of a member of the Crown... Odds were it wouldn't happen for some time, as the inner workings of the military were a political minefield unto themselves...

The next few hours would be spent wrapping up the incident, discussing it with Princess Cadence and Prince Blueblood, working out what did and didn't work... A lot of paperwork, a lot of buck passing. Aside from those on the ground, Equestria would remain uninformed of the events that transpired in ADZ Seven. It'd still be recorded as it happened, of course, but no formal announcement. Such incursions happened frequently, and there was bound to be undue public concern if they knew every time an Airship violated Equestria's airspace, intentionally or otherwise. Orcus was thoroughly out of cigarettes by the conclusion of the meeting, and so at that point made a hasty departure for home.

The air was heavy with the smell of freshly applied paint, modeling glue, and the musty odor of dirty laundry. It mattered little to Spike, he was used to it by now, and if it was really bothering him he would've opened a window. He had bigger concerns, in a manner of speaking... Namely, the figurine he observed at present through the lens of his slightly rickety magnifying lamp. It was at Twilight's request that he was working to paint several new figures. They'd play a role in one of her upcoming Ogres and Oubliettes games, and her specification as to their color pallet was proving to be quite the challenge. They were Timber Wolves, but rather than the typical vibrant color patterns Spike favored, these had to at least somewhat blend in with the battle map itself. It'd be part of a special 'horror' one-shot session she was running in the lead up to Nightmare Night.

The studious librarian had given Spike a book by a rather obscure naturalist, 'An Extensive Study on the Adaptive Color Patterns of Flora and Fauna'. With a name like that, Spike had expected it to be one of the most mind numbing reading experiences of his life. To his surprise, it had actually proved an interesting read... It was no 'Daring Do', but it wasn't trying to be. The work was a scientific publication, evaluating the mechanisms with which animals evolved to emulate their environment, helping them to blend in and avoid predators. Spike took inspiration from a few of the well produced illustrations, and now was working very carefully to apply that knowledge to the figurines.

That wasn't to say the work at hand was his only focus, far from it in fact, as he was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate. Spike had plenty of stuff on his mind, but realistically when was that ever not the case? The main issue was his reply to Princess Orzel's letter, or lack thereof. He should've responded a few days ago, but thus far he'd thrown out every draft he came up with. He'd already decided to invite her to one of the games Twilight ran, the woman of course having agreed when he brought it up. She'd even offered to send the Princess a few of the basic rule books, but Spike was fairly certain Princess Orzel would be more than capable of acquiring her own. That left the majority of the letter up in the air, as merely inviting her to the game didn't really expand on some of the questions the Princess raised.

Simply speaking, Spike wasn't exactly sure what else to say... Writing was hardly his strong suit, creatively or otherwise, and more than anything he feared saying something that the Princess might misconstrue as offensive or insulting. Now his mind was fully consumed with his worries, and it was beginning to show. The teen stopped, pursing his lips and setting both the paint brush and the half painted figurine back on his cluttered desk. He'd need to come back and fix that one later, his brush having strayed and ruined what'd otherwise been the best figurine yet.

Carefully he moved both it and the paint brush aside, making room for a fresh piece of paper and his pen. He adjusted the lamp so that it cast a less harsh glare upon the page, his eyes flitting to the book resting haphazardly atop a pile of completed homeschooling assignments. A few moments of rifling through them produced the Princess's letter, which he carefully reread for what felt like the fiftieth time. It still smelled of that oddly fragrant perfume, the only thing that could cut through the ambient odor of the room of the teenaged model maker.

"My dearest princess-"

Spike quickly balled up the paper and chucked in the vague direction of his waste basket, where it joined the overflowing pile of other such discarded attempts. The boy quickly grabbed another sheet of paper from his desk drawer, set it on the desk proper, and stared at it for what felt like hours. In his mind he harkened back to the night of the Gala, to the unfortunately abbreviated conversation between him and the beautiful Princess. That image in and of itself conjured to life countless scenes from hundreds of fantasy novels, when the brave knight would correspond with the fair maiden he'd left behind to answer the call to adventure.

Of course, his relationship with Princess Orzel was hardly anything like those of his heroes. One letter did not a romance make, and he wasn't even sure 'romance' was what he was after... Even if it was, what were the odds the Princess would feel the same way? Struck by wave after wave of negativity, a frown tugged Spike's lip down, and again he found himself thinking about Rarity. He'd made his peace with her courtship, or so he told himself... It still stung. Indeed, lately he found it difficult just getting out of bed, made doubly difficult considering he hadn't been sleeping all that well.

For a few moments he felt tempted to go to Twilight, to talk with her about it, but ultimately he just sighed and shook his head. She had her own problems, she didn't need him coming to her like a baby, whining about problems he should've just shut up about and faced on his own... There was one person, a person who explicitly offered to listen to his problems, and it was in her that he'd need to confide. Biting his lip, Spike put pen to paper once more, this time writing with a more solemn mindset. Once again he called upon his memories of fantasy and heroes to guide his words, and with them in mind, hoped for the best.

My lady,

Your letter indeed found me well, and it is I that must admit my regret in having kept you waiting this long. You're not alone in the 'personal letter' inexperience department either, this is probably my eightieth attempt, and I'm not even sure if I'm going to keep it. I guess you'll know the answer if you're reading this right now. Of course I'd be willing to become your friend, not only would I consider it an honor, but I think it'd be a great chance for the two of us help one another.

As you've said yourself, life in Equestria can be trying, especially for people like us. I know that there are boundless depths hidden beneath the mask of calm you so carefully maintain, as it is a mask I too must endure. It'd help to have someone to talk to, someone who truly understands what it means to be a Dragon. In that respect, I am humbly at your service, and beg your indulgence of some thoughts of my own.

I've been giving a lot of thought to some of the things you said to me at the gala. The nature of Equestria's people, and how I fit among them. I try to believe that they're people that would do the right thing, if presented the choice to do so, but... Then I think about how they've responded before, how quickly their minds might be swayed by a fear of what they don't understand... What they can never understand. Then I ask myself 'Why do I even bother to put up the mask?'. I don't even know if I'm doing a good job at it, there's a lot of stuff that I just make up as I go along. Some of it I can't talk to my Mom about, so I look in books, or talk to someone who can keep a secret... There aren't many of those in Ponyville.

At times I can't help but feel like a coward... I want to be brave, I want to stand up, speak my mind, but I always 'think better' of it. 'I'm not important enough, best not say anything'. What other choice is there? I could go live with other Dragons, in theory, but would I even be welcome there? I worry about that too... What if I'm too much of a 'Dragon' to live in Equestria, but at the same time not 'Dragon' enough to live in the Dragonlands? Do you ever worry about that?

Spike looked over the page for a few moments, pondering if he should start again. Simply addressing Princess Orzel as 'My Lady' seemed overly familiar, but at the same time he didn't want to come off as too formal either. His mention of 'Masks' and some of his deeper thoughts also gave him pause... He recalled, however, that the Princess highly valued the honesty of a statement. What he was writing was just his stream of consciousness, his deeper thoughts, finally given a voice upon that unassuming page. Thoughts he himself likely wouldn't confront anywhere else, thoughts that up until then remained formless nasty things, infesting the edge of consciousness. Ultimately, he decided that he'd keep what he'd so far written, and it was from that point he continued.

That's enough about my worries... You asked me about books, if I'd read anything interesting lately. As a matter of fact, I've recently had the opportunity to read a rather lengthy piece. 'An Extensive Study on the Adaptive Color Patterns of Flora and Fauna', by Dr. Dazzle Disguise. It covers the subject of camouflage, how plants and animals evolved the ability to hide in plain sight, or otherwise ward off predators, merely by virtue of their coloration. Admittedly I'm not much of a naturalist, and much of the technical jargon went over my head, but the general premise is one I think you'd find fascinating. I myself have been applying similar techniques to painting several figurines for an upcoming game of Ogres and Oubliettes, which I think serves as a perfect transition to my next topic of conversation.

Spike cast a brief look at one of his shelves on the wall, catching sight of a few model airplanes, surrounded by a dozen or so finely painted figurines. They were but a fraction of his collection, the vast majority of which resided in a series of shoe boxes he stored under his bed, beside the other things he treasured. For some reason, he found his already poor ability to sleep was further hampered if he stored them anywhere else. A fair number of boxes containing unpainted models and figures resided in one corner of his room, awaiting the day when he'd finally get around to painting them.

Spike shook his head, turning his attention back to the letter. Hopefully the Princess wouldn't think O&O itself was too 'geeky' or 'weird'... Few people even knew he played the game outside of himself, Twilight, Big Mac, and the small coalition of girls around his age more commonly known as the Cutie Mark Crusaders. There were plenty of people in Ponyville that played, as Twilight and Spike himself could personally attest, but to his knowledge it was still widely considered a quasi-deviant hobby.

I've talked with my Mom, and she and I would like to invite you to join one of our game sessions. The game takes place in a fantasy setting, you get to make your own character and take them on adventures. There's not really enough space in one letter to explain how everything works, but I think it's a great deal of fun. It's got a large number of different editions, each with its own different source books and slight rule variations. Mom and I mostly run the current edition, since it's not as intimidating to newer players. We'll need to work out what day you might be able to visit, that is, if you're interested?

Spike sighed heavily, looking at the letter with another bout of anxious hesitation. Now it felt like he was rambling, or perhaps sharing too much, but once again he recalled the Princess's letter, he was merely responding as asked. That did little to mitigate the dread that came with writing, as the act itself was incredibly stressful. Once he felt the work was done, once he'd proofread it over and over again, discarding countless drafts and starting again from scratch, he'd still need to summon the courage to actually send it out there. Then there'd be nothing he could do to take it back, even if he wrote an addendum, that first message would still exist somewhere...

"Just do it... Man up, finish the letter, then sign the damn paper!" Spike grunted to himself, after a few moments of hesitance he clenched his fist and brought the pen within a hair's breadth of the page. His trembling hand was hardly controllable, even if he had the words they'd come out mangled and illegible. "Cyka bylat!" Spike blurted somewhat loudly in Draconic, setting the pen on the desk and crossing his arms. The teen immediately froze, however, when he heard a shocked gasp to his rear.

"What did you just say, young man?" Twilight stated, her tone stunned and bordering on angry. For a few fleeting moments Spike remained perfectly still, some deeper instinct telling him that the best thing to do when a predator was around was to make as little movement as possible. "Don't ignore me, turn around." Cringing visibly, Spike carefully swiveled his chair to face the door, where he found Twilight standing with a plate of food in hand. Any shock she might've displayed was replaced now by eyes narrowed behind her glasses, a set jaw, and a tapping foot... Had she not been holding what Spike suspected to be his dinner in her hands, he had no doubt she'd have both her arms crossed as well. "Now, what did you just say?" Sighing in defeat, Spike dejectedly repeated himself.

"I said 'cyka bylat'..." He slumped his shoulders, nervously pursing his lips. "I'm sorry, Twilight, it just kinda... Slipped out." He added, almost as an after thought, hoping that would be enough to placate his Quasi-Mom. It wasn't. The look on Twilight's face shifted more towards concern, and wordlessly she entered the room, carrying the plate to his desk and setting it atop a pile of papers. Spike unconsciously moved to try and obstruct her view of the paper, which only served to draw the woman's attention.

"You're up here so much lately, I've hardly seen you. I thought maybe you were just tired, but... That sort of language isn't like you at all..." Twilight observed, taking a seat on the edge of Spike's bed and resting her hands on her knees. "It's not just that, lately you've been in this sort of... Fog. I'm worried about you... Please, talk to me." Spike wasn't entirely sure what to say, if he should say anything at all.

Some silent voice inside begged and pleaded with him to tell her everything, but... As always, he thought better of it. Twilight had enough to worry about as is, she didn't need to know that every day he felt progressively worse inside, or that he wasn't sleeping, or anything else for that matter... It just wasn't worth trying to begin with, he'd need to find another way. Looking between her and the door to his room, Spike stood from his seat and grabbed the purple hooded sweatshirt resting haphazardly on his bed.

"I'm sorry, Twilight, really..." Spike offered as he zipped the garment closed. "You're right, I've been cooped up in here too long. I just need some air." It was getting dark outside, the air would be cool... He could go seek advice from someone else, there was already a person in mind. Twilight stood from the bed, glancing now at the unguarded letter. After a few moments she crossed her arms, though her features appeared more solemn than upset.

"Look... Before you go anywhere, maybe you should finish your letter first?" Twilight stated with gentle sternness, picking up the plate and turning towards the door. "I'll take this with me downstairs, you can come get it whenever you're done. We'll talk then, after that, if you still want, you can go... Get some air..."

Spike opened his mouth to protest, but Twilight left so quickly he didn't have time to get a single word out. Sighing for what felt like the hundredth time, he slumped his shoulders and resumed his seat at the desk, where he spent the next hour or so staring at his unfinished letter. His mind was playing tricks on him, dragging him deeper and deeper into a black smog... The world grew dimmer, the colors muted and gray. Briefly Spike got up to open the window, allowing the cool night air to flood into his stuffy broom closet of a bedroom... That helped, a little, but not nearly enough. Eventually, eventually, Spike picked up his pen and continued.

I hope I haven't given you too much information, or too much concern, and I would count myself lucky if our correspondence does become a regular affair. If ever you want to converse verbally, I can be reached by the library's phone at PV 5-5555. You're of course welcome to visit in person as well. No need to knock when you get here, we're a public library, after all. Hope to hear from you soon.

Spike once again found himself stumped... It shouldn't have been that difficult to just sign his name, but... Once he did that he'd have to send the letter... It'd be out there, in the Princess's hands, and he'd have no way of recovering it. The fear paralyzed him once again, this time he wasn't quite sure how long it took him to work up the courage to continue. Finally, with shaking confidence, the teen set his jaw... No more excuses... He was going to finish this letter, eat his dinner, then... Well, he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

Yours in confidence, Spike T. Dragon

Before he could second guess himself yet again, Spike folded the letter and slipped it into a waiting envelope bearing the Princess's name. Sealing it shut, the boy held the message up in front of his mouth. A small burst of green flames passed effortlessly from between his lips, rapidly consuming the message. The ashes flew out the open window just as they had so many times before, off to wherever Princess Celestia might be. Sighing with impending dread, Spike pushed his seat back and glanced once more at the clock. He hadn't realized how long it'd taken him to write one simple paragraph, and given the late hour Twilight would surely be in bed...

The boy's stomach growled, so he stood and left his room, hands tucked into the pockets of his sweatshirt as he quietly trudged down into the library proper. As he'd expected, the room was dark. Moonlight streaming through the windows, illuminating row upon row of neatly ordered book spines. A dim yellow glow was cast across the floor from the kitchen doorway, the result of the small light mounted in the hood over the stove within. Briefly Spike considered taking the opportunity to go on his walk, but his stomach grumbled in protest... There'd be time for that after he ate, besides, the person he'd wanted to go talk to was probably already in bed by now anyway.

As was always the case when Spike paid a midnight visit to the kitchen, he found the checkered linoleum floor to be spotless, a pair of dull red curtains drawn over the small window, and the electric icebox humming ever so dully from its place inset in the kitchen counter top. The floral wall paper was faded, but that mattered little, considering a good portion of it was concealed beneath innumerable framed photographs of Twilight and Spike, or Twilight and her friends, or some combination thereof. In all of them Spike saw happy people, big smiles and laughter. Some of his were genuine, but he knew more than a few were forced... He'd become quite good at faking them, as it was hard for even him to discern exactly which were real and which were an affectation.

What caught Spike unawares about the kitchen was the presence of Twilight herself, arms folded on the table, serving as an impromptu pillow for the woman's weary head. The woman had said she'd wait for him to come down and eat, and that was precisely what she'd done. Spike grimaced, inwardly kicking himself for not coming down sooner... He felt like such a heel, well, more of a heel than was already the case. The boy approached with caution, not wanting to startle the librarian, and instead gently shook the woman's shoulder. Twilight was undisturbed at first, but eventually stirred. She peered about the room blearily, raising her head from the table and rubbing at the back of her neck.

"Sorry, must've dozed off..." She mumbled, blinking tiredly at Spike. "All finished with your letter?" The teen awkwardly nodded, his eyes glued to the floor, as he found it almost impossible to meet the woman's eyes. He wouldn't have blamed her for being cross with him, but... She wasn't. "Good... Have a seat, I'll get our dinners warmed up..."

Twilight rose from the chair, only to stop and stare at a clock on the wall... One of those cartoonish 'black cat' clocks, the sort with a bow-tie, where the eyes and tail moved back and forth. Like so much of their furniture, it'd been left behind by the previous librarian... Spike didn't blame them, he wouldn't have wanted to bring it with him, the thing gave him the creeps. Twilight's interest in the clock was probably more to do with the very late, technically very early, hour.

"Or I'll just make breakfast..." Twilight decided, rolling her shoulders as she moved to the icebox. Spike opened his mouth to try and convince her to just go to bed, but the woman held a single finger up to the side. The seriousness she bore likewise killed any notion of protest. "We need to talk, so just... Sit down, okay? Don't fight me on this, I'm too tired..." The woman's voice once more was laden with conflict.

Spike did exactly as she told him, pulling one of the metal chairs out from the aging blue linoleum topped table. Meanwhile, Twilight took a small assortment of eggs and an equally small block of 'processed cheese' from inside the icebox. She set these beside the stove, then reached into one of the wall mounted cabinets, from which she took a tin of spiced ham. Judging by the plain packaging, announcing only the contents and depicting the seal of the Equestrian Ministry of Agriculture, the latter two were part of the 'Winter Stop-Gap' rations recently distributed at the Ponyville market.

"You're not in trouble, but I need you to be honest with me..." Twilight continued, placing a heavy black cast-iron skillet on the stove and lighting the burner beneath, this was in turn greased with a miniscule dash of cooking oil. "Are you happy here?" She asked, turning to lean on the kitchen counter while crossing her arms across her chest. Spike stared at her, searching her face for any hint of explanation... She looked... Worried, more worried than usual. "I mean, are you happy here, with me? Have I done anything to make you think you aren't wanted?" Spike again wasn't sure how to respond, or where this might've come from. "I'm a bit of a speed reader..."

"Oh..." Spike realized, sighing inwardly to himself for not having covered his letter more diligently. For a few seconds he found himself feeling... Angry at Twilight. It was his private letter, his private thoughts, she had no damn right to read them! Somewhere, deep down in his gut, a tiny flame was taking hold. With abrupt suddenness his arms felt very itchy, and for some bizarre reason his teeth hurt. Whatever the feeling was, Spike hated it. He didn't want to be angry, not at Twilight, or anyone for that matter. With that thought he managed to wrangle his emotions back under control, extinguishing the flame with the simple act of taking a deep breath.

"I don't know..." The teen finally answered, the itches and the pain in his teeth gradually receding. "You haven't done anything to make me feel like you don't want me here, but... I guess I'm just worried that it's only a matter of time." The boy gestured with his head towards the window. "Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if I didn't grow up in Equestria, y'know...? Would I be the same person? Would you still trust me like you do, to be your special assistant? Would you look at me and think 'That's a dragon, I should keep a close eye on him.'."

"Spike, you're more than my special assistant. I helped raise you, you're... You're my son. You're the most important person in my life, nothing is ever going to change that." Twilight insisted as she opened the tin of spiced ham and struggled with a fork to remove the slippery uniform brick of pink processed meat from within. "Honey... You don't have to walk on eggshells around me, or my friends, or anyone in Ponyville. We all love you!" Spike couldn't suppress the scowl that took hold, this was exactly the sort of response he'd expected from Twilight... She wouldn't take his concerns seriously, she'd write them off as him just 'not understanding'...

"I don't doubt you and your friends love me, Twilight, but c'mon... The rest of Ponyville?" Spike's disbelieving tone appeared to ruffle some of Twilight's proverbial feathers, and by now she'd given up on the fork and instead used her magic to teleport the spiced ham out of the can and onto a cutting board. "You saw how they all reacted to Zecora, and I know you've read how they responded to Princess Orzel... Heck, even Applebloom and her friends are more or less 'Normal', and they still get picked on. How long before I do or say something and they start avoiding me? Or worse, they go the other way! Full on 'grab your torches and pitchforks!', then run me out of town."

By now Twilight had transitioned to allowing magic to compile their breakfast, crossing the room and resuming her place at the table. Spike briefly watched the icebox open, a glass bottle of milk wafted out on a cloud of magic, moving quickly over to the counter. From this, the teen deduced she was making omelets... One of his favorites. Twilight meanwhile still bore the visage of a concerned mother, and she reached across the table to take one of his hands into one of hers, the other glowing faintly as it conducted the cooking of breakfast.

"You were right in your letter, I can't say I understand what it feels like to be a Dragon..." Twilight began, gently squeezing Spike's hand. "But I think it's safe to say that I know exactly how it feels to think you're just one small mistake away from total disaster." The boy was going to retort, but ultimately he had to concede that point... He'd seen it happen plenty of times. "Celestia and I talked about this, actually... Well, we talked about a bunch of stuff, but... Never mind." Spike couldn't help but smile, faintly, at the woman's rambling. "You and I, we... Deep down, we're both thinkers. We just think and think and think, all day long... Then, when we're done thinking, we think some more!"

Spike could see several bowls manifesting themselves on the counter. The magic was cracking the eggs, whisking them together with milk and so on... All the while Twilight appeared totally focused on the conversation. From what Spike understood of magic, the level of mental discipline it must've taken to do so much was frankly staggering. Twilight was right about one thing, she was most certainly a 'Thinker'...

"When we look at the world, we look at whatever data we have on hand, ask some questions, ponder over it for a while, maybe ask some more questions... This is how we gain our perception of reality." Twilight continued, withdrawing her hand so as to assist her other, now both glowed dimly with purplish energy. "Most of the time that's a good thing! It's how we learn, how we grow, but our conclusions are only as good as the data we use to base them on. Now, is it safe to say you think people were afraid of Zecora because she was different? I recall you weren't too keen on her, either."

"Yeah..." Spike agreed, earning an understanding nod from Twilight.

"Forget what you know about Zecora now. Imagine you're just an average person living in Ponyville. Ponyville, which at the time had been menaced first by Nightmare Moon, then a few weeks later troubled by Trixie and that Ursa Minor, just to name a few." Twilight explained with a logical tone. "Suddenly, a strange woman from a far away land moves to the edge of town. There she practices alchemy, potion crafting, and other arcane arts in secret. No one knows who she is, what she's capable of, or what her intentions are." The room was suddenly filled with the skillet sizzling and the smell of cooking eggs and frying spiced ham. "So... With that in mind, was Zecora really ostracized by Ponyville just because she was different, or because people who are different tend to bring trouble to Ponyville?"

"I... Hadn't thought about it like that." Spike admitted sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck while looking dejectedly at the table. "But, what about Princess Orzel?" Twilight's expression became a tad less optimistic, turning to a sad smile.

"Unfortunately, that's up to politics more than her being different..." Twilight stated simply, leaning her head to the side. She had bags under her eyes, and once again Spike felt a surge of guilt at forcing her to forestall a good night's sleep. "She's Luna's daughter, and a lot of people are still upset about the Nightmare Moon incident. Even then, both Luna and Orzel aren't universally disliked. The Black Crowns certainly seem to have taken a shine to them." The woman suddenly shook her head, more to keep herself awake than anything else.

"As for Applebloom and the others? I'm afraid that's a point I'll have to concede..." Twilight sighed. "That's one friendship problem I don't think we'll ever be able to fully tackle. Kids can be jerks, and picking on those they find 'different' falls under that category. Not to say we shouldn't try, of course..." Spike turned his eyes to the window, with his foot he nudged the curtain back. His eyes beheld the most beautiful night sky either had seen in a while, a glittering field of gems upon a satin curtain of bluish-black. "This is why I worry about you. How can I help if you don't tell me what's going on?" The woman added gently.

"It's not that easy, Mom..." Admitted Spike, his eyes fixating now on the distant mountain lights of Canterlot. With his elbow resting on the table, it wasn't long before he found his cheek resting in the palm of his hand. The boy might've been wrong about some things, he'd admit that, but... He'd already caused Twilight enough problems that night. If he'd only written a little faster, hadn't hemmed and hawed over every detail... Then, as was so often the case with his spiraling thoughts, the boy's mind made the herculean leap to the fact that he was going to be an adult in a few years. No one would care about how he felt then, why should they care about him now? He wasn't important enough, simple as that. "Look, I'm fine... I'm just a little tired, that's all."

Twilight looked about as convinced of Spike's words as Spike himself, but before she could call him on that fact he was saved by the bell. Quite literally. Specifically the rhythmic ringing of the telephone resting on the kitchen counter, which Spike quickly rose from his seat to answer. Speaking to whatever insane person might be calling at this ungodly hour of the early morning seemed a more than better alternative. Twilight sighed, rising from her seat and moving back to the stove so as to continue making their impromptu breakfast. Spike, meanwhile, lifted the receiver from its cradle and brought the mouthpiece near his lips.

"You have a direct call from Canterlot Castle for a 'Mister Spike'. This call may be monitored and recorded for the purposes of national security. Do you consent to these terms?" A nasally voiced operator stated, sounding more bored than anything else. Spike was floored, not only that he was receiving a call from Canterlot Castle, but that it was so soon after having sent his message.

"Yes! Yes... I, uh, I do." Spike answered quickly, a few moments later he heard a few distinct buzzing and popping sounds. It was likely the operator connecting him to whomever it was that called him, though he already had a fairly good idea. After a few moments he heard nothing but silence, then a muffled distant voice, which he couldn't make out. "Hello? Can you hear me?" Someone fumbled with the receiver, when next they spoke it was far easier to hear.

"Y-Yes! Hello, Mister Spike! I am sorry, I have never used one of these 'telephones' before." Princess Orzel's voice sounded a little tinny over the line, but otherwise it was just as Spike remembered it being. A flat monotone, with barely any inflection or deviation whatsoever. "I... Had the handset upside down." She admitted, in what for her might've been a sheepish tone of voice. "I hope I did not wake you, I only just received your letter."

"Don't worry, you didn't wake me..." Assured Spike, casting a brief look at Twilight, who was watching him with evident curiosity as she continued finishing up the omelets and spiced ham. He simply mouthed the words 'Princess Orzel', earning a surprised quirk of her eyebrow. "I haven't really been able to sleep as well lately."

"Oh... I... I admit I have been having some trouble sleeping as of late as well, for a number of reasons." The Princess's monotone strayed upwards for just a moment, as if there was more she might've wanted to say, but didn't. "I saw the phone number in your letter, so I thought... Well..." She trailed off. "I am sorry... I thought it would be easier to talk, but..." The girl awkwardly sighed, then took a deep breath. "Okay. I read what you said, and I wanted to say that know how it feels."

"I know what it is like to feel as if you are not 'important enough', that everyone is better than you, so you must keep your head down and 'think better' of saying how you truly feel." To Spike's continuing surprise, when next she spoke she had what sounded to be genuine emotion in her words... A profoundly deep sadness. "I know our friendship is new, but I wanted to say that you are important to me, and I do not think you a coward for fearing to speak up... It takes time to build that courage. I feared you might spend undue time worrying about such things. That is another area in which my experience is extensive."

"I..." Spike began, his voice faltering for the briefest moments. After a few moments he managed to put on a brave face, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand while turning to look at Twilight. She was setting their midnight breakfasts on a pair of plates, then mouthed 'I'm going to bed.', taking her plate with her. "Love you..." Spike said unthinkingly, only to worriedly realize he still had the phone to his hear. "Sorry, that wasn't directed at you, I wasn't trying to be weird... I was just talking to Mom." The boy nervously sighed through his nose. "I appreciate what you said, your highness..."

"Mister Spike... If you wanted to, y-you can just call me Orzel, i-in private, of course." Orzel offered, her voice taking on a notable shade of bashfulness... Spike could practically hear the Princess blushing through the phone. For some reason, that brought the boy a sense of relief, and just a little pride. "'My lady', as you put in your letter, is also acceptable... I suppose..."

"Thank you, my lady..." Spike stated respectfully, unable to contain a small smile as he carried the phone cradle and his plate to the dinner table. "And you may of course call me Spike..." The teen took a seat, picking up a fork and stabbing at a cube of spiced ham. He picked up the morsel and quickly swallowed it, once again looking through the window at the lights of Canterlot. The Castle was easily visible among them all, and Spike had to wonder if the Princess might be looking back at him... "So, have you given any thought to the offer to join one of our games?"

"I have, and I am pleased to say I accept." The girl agreed... Spike and the Princess conversed for a good while from that point on, first on the finer points of the game in question. She would send him a list of possible dates that worked for her, hopefully they'd find one that coincided with a game.

It was difficult for Spike to tell at first, but he got the feeling the Princess would likely wind up going with the 'Cleric' or 'Paladin' class for her first character. 'Wizard' and 'Artificer' were also good bets, considering the numerous questions she asked regarding how spells and item crafting worked. Gradually, the discussion turned to their other hobbies and interests... Model making seemed to be another point they had in common, as was reading, though not to the same extent.

If the Princess was to be believed, she could probably outpace even Twilight, with an ability to read a staggering twenty-thousand words per minute. By her own admission, that wouldn't have been possible for a typical Equestrian. Current understanding of the standard Equestrian eye was that, anatomically speaking, it was limited to processing less than a tenth of that. Draconic eyes were decidedly different, and the Princess's especially so... They did glow, after all.

Still, for as literately minded as Orzel seemed, Spike could tell she was doing her best not to ramble or go off on too many tangents. She seemed genuinely interested in what he had to say, at times asking just as many questions as he did, if not more so... He got the impression the girl's mind was a boundless sponge, absorbing any information it came into contact with. It was a tad intimidating, but this was mitigated by the level of humility and slight awkwardness the Princess displayed, not unlike Twilight's own mannerisms.

Eventually, having established a rapport and surprising level of trust, the two of them took to talking about topics of a deeper nature. Talking with someone about it, even if that person couldn't offer any advice, proved beneficial to the both of them. Spike told her of his occasional bouts of depression and insomnia, especially lately... How he feared losing touch with his Equestrian roots as he grew older, and what he worried would become of him should that ever happen. To this, Orzel responded by urging him to seek a counselor, someone truly qualified to help him deal with his issues... It'd apparently helped her greatly, and Spike assured her he would look into the matter further.

His words weren't all doom and gloom, and Spike spoke freely of his dreams for adventure and exploration... Perhaps, when he was older, he'd strike out for Equestria's unexplored frontiers on a survey expedition, or sign up for the Navy, to sail and see the world abroad. On the topic of the Navy, it was clear Orzel was exceptionally passionate. She spoke of the various places he might see, numerous traditions and things Spike hadn't even considered...

When Orzel spoke of her own fear, it was that Equestria's status as a Global Power was at risk. That they were perched on the edge of some great nightmarish abyss, just one shove away from total disaster. All the recent 'small disasters' and other incidents she couldn't go into detail over had apparently shown her cracks in its foundations. Her Mom likewise was apparently distracted by the presence of a suitor, which left Orzel feeling as if she was the only person to see the true danger faced by all. Orzel's mention of a suitor stirred some thoughts Spike would've preferred remain dormant. His conversation with Rarity, how she was happy he was talking to someone his own age, in particular. The fact that Orzel was starting to remind him of a pint-sized version of Twilight certainly didn't help matters...

The Princess was a little hesitant to speak of her own hopes for the future, and Spike supposed that was only natural. In terms of leadership, she wanted to be the one to lead Equestria into a new era of economic prosperity and martial strength... On a personal level, she wanted to push the envelope of technology and science, though Spike suspected that probably wasn't everything... That was fine, as much as they trusted each other now, odds were that trust would only deepen with time. Needless to say, the conversation went better than Spike might've expected. As with all good things, unfortunately, the end came far too swiftly...

"I think it is time for me to try and get back to bed, Aunt Celestia will be most cross with me otherwise..." The Princess's voice certainly sounded tired, and this was punctuated by a distant sounding yawn. Spike cast a look at the clock on the wall, then sighed through his nose... It was nearly four-thirty in the morning, and by now he could see the faint crack of the coming dawn through the window. They'd been talking for more than three hours, and he hadn't even realized it. "I have enjoyed our conversation, Spike... Please, do feel free to call me anytime." Spike nodded to himself, looking at the phone somewhat dejectedly.

"Of course. Farewell, my lady." Spike offered solemnly.

"Until next time." Orzel's voice responded, and with that the line went quiet. Spike held the handset to his ear for a good ten seconds, then set it on its cradle and tiredly rubbed at his eyes. The boy picked up his plate and quickly placed it in the sink, then wordlessly made his way upstairs to his bedroom. He could probably still get a couple hours in before Twilight woke up, realistically that was really all he'd need. He managed to fall asleep just about as soon as his head hit the pillow, and this time no nightmares rose to disturb him, no fears of the future or concerns of the past... Just blissfully deep sleep.

Chapter 15

Orzel didn't blame anyone in particular for the increase in workload that'd arrived in the weeks following the conclusion of the Global Series, as most of it was a struggle of her own making... Most. From the unexpected pitfalls of trying to purchase her workshop to the ongoing obstinacy of the Equestrian Navy, there was plenty to keep the Princess busy. The level of redundancy and overall waste that existed in Equestria's bureaucratic system was staggering, but not surprising...

As she was both a minor and a non-citizen, she couldn't legally own government or private land under her own name. There was a loophole in the way that the law was worded, at least according to Celestia. If Orzel was the owner of a private company, she could buy land under the company name instead. Of course, the land could only be purchased from the government, which would've been fine in and of itself. The issue arose when it came down to actually registering a business, even a small 'one person' operation.

Not content to be denied on any sort of technicality, Orzel had done what she always did when confronted with a problem, and read every form, document, or book she could get her hands on relating to the matter...The various redundancies and inefficiencies contained within those pages numbed her mind to near insensibility, a first when it came to anything to do with reading. Orzel had since lost count of how many hours she'd spent filling out three page forms to get the six page forms to get twelve page forms, each of which then had to be signed, notarized, and submitted in triplicate to three different agencies that all more or less did the same thing, and reported to the exact same people.

The result of it all was the successful founding of Orzel's own private company, which she'd dubbed 'Basilisk Defense Technologies', after the powerful cannons once employed by the Imperial Armada for shore bombardment. It'd been a toss up between that and 'Watchtower Defense Solutions', but considering that at present her workshop was her tower, the latter was a tad too on the nose for her liking. The property she'd sought out afterwards hadn't taken all that long to find, though Mother wasn't entirely pleased with the location. Ultimately Orzel settled on the acquisition of 'Prado Dorado Army Air Base and Arsenal', some twenty miles west of Ponyville.

For five years it'd been abandoned, due to mix of budgetary issues and local protestations over concerns for the nearby wildlife. It had all the facilities she'd need to build and test her various prototypes, but the main point she'd made the purchase was the price... It would prove too costly for the Army Air Corps to demolish the buildings and tear up the runway on site, and no one wanted to take it on as a civil airport. The longer the base sat there, the more they Equestrian military had to pay to keep the place secure against looters or vandals. So, it was with a great deal of enthusiasm that they agreed to the price Basilisk Defense Technologies offered them, forty-five thousand bits. Their asking price had initially been sixty, which gave some indication as to just how much they wanted to get rid of the place. The deal would be closed in a few days, after which there would still a lot of details that needed sorting out. At least Orzel was making progress.

That brought her thoughts to the cherries on top of the whole heaping stress sundae. At least they were cherries she'd added herself. Two new personal projects, both of which she decided her Mother needn't know about quite yet. The first was sure to bring about some sort of heated discussion. She'd dubbed it 'Operation Firewatch', a real-world simulation of a series of 'Nightmare Scenarios' that would test in exacting detail the true preparedness of Equestria's government to respond to a major catastrophe. If Equestria's existing infrastructure failed to live up to the task, which Orzel suspected it likely would, Operation Firewatch outlined a series of programs that would likely fix that problem. Not the least of which would be the creation of a new 'Civil Defense Agency', which would be built from the ground up as a model of efficiency and speed.

The second project, that which was least likely to cause an uproar, would considerably expand Orzel's horizons in the field enchanting and the world in general... Literally, in the case of the latter. It was upon this project that the Princess worked now. Unlike most of her previous forays into her beloved field, this project in particular had the added pressure of a fast approaching deadline. Judging by the recently installed clock on the Enchantitarium's wall, she had less than thirty minutes to complete her task, change into something more comfortable, gather her things, and meet up with her Mother in the castle courtyard. It was Nightmare Night, after all, and Luna planned on surprising the people of Ponyville with a visit... Orzel, meanwhile, would be going to visit Spike. More incentive for her to work at an increased pace.

Thankfully she was more or less finished with the nitty-gritty details, though she would've liked to have had more time to test the finished product as a whole. At first glance it might've looked like a normal old broom, and prior to Orzel getting her hands on it, that's exactly what it was. Its dark wooden surface had remained more or less unchanged since the Princess's acquisition, the only difference being that the gnarled surface was filled with runes that coiled and spiraled around its exterior.

The already completed runes flickered every now and then, with vibrant emerald flashes that displayed only a faint hint of cerulean. Of the many other 'changes' she'd noted of late, the coloration of her eyes, and by extension magic, was hardly the most noticeable. The onyx colored headscarf she wore now not only represented her faith in Lexicos, it also served the purpose of covering up a rather unsightly and embarrassing emergence, the growth of a pair of black fluted horns just above and behind her ears. They were short, and curled not unlike those of a mountain goat. She'd also noticed that her muscle definition had increased substantially...

The other changes Orzel could deal with, but that and the horns...? Every day she found she looked more like the 'Future Her' of her visions, and while that didn't scare her, it didn't do her any favors in terms of self-esteem. She was short, musclebound, with skin marred by occasional splotches of metallic scales, and sported pair of razor sharp fangs... Now add horns jutting off the side of her head... It always felt like there was always some sort of freak staring back at her, whenever she happened to look at herself in the mirror. Her family told her it was nothing to worry about, that her change in appearance was yet another part of growing up...

Thankfully the changes were easy enough to hide. Compared to most Equestrians she'd always been a conservative dresser, and the horns weren't that noticeable beneath her headscarf... Yet... Odds were that she'd soon need to start filing them down if she was going to maintain any illusion of normalcy. Here in the Enchantatarium there were no mirrors, nothing to distract her mind from the task at hand, save for her mind itself. If nothing else, she could take solace in the work that she was doing, and all the various notations and discoveries she'd made along the way.

Sweat beaded on the Princess's forehead, her tongue just barely emerging between her lips as her focus remained solely on the completion of this, the final string of runes. Her hands were completely steady, her breathing slow and calm, and the resultant runes reflected as much. Each symbol that took shape was virtually flawless in both size and rendition, far more professionally executed than some of her older work. Midnight observed the ongoing work from the pocket of Orzel's lab coat, the fuzzy little mouse's attention just as narrowed and focused as that of her dragon companion.

Each rune was rapidly absorbed deep into the wooden surface, ensuring it would be strong and secure when all was said and done. This was courtesy of the enchanting medium Orzel had chosen, a blend of her own devise. It was something she'd dubbed 'Wzbogacony Krystaliczny Destylat', or 'Enriched Crystalline Distillate' in Equestrian... More simply labeled as 'WKD'.

Developing it had been the culmination of all her studies into Enchanting thus-far, and her first true attempt at approaching Enchanting as a science, with each step along the way carefully notated and cataloged for later review. The method of manufacturing WKD consisted of combining fiffty-five percent Alicornium with twenty percent Arcanium, the resultant mixture was then dissolved in ethanol. Once blended to homogenization, the Princess would then boil the ethanol away, leaving a faintly glowing residue. This was then ground into as fine a dust as was physically possible with the tools Orzel had at her disposal. The powder was then combined with fifteen percent 'Stabilized' Enchantium and five percent 'Stabilized' Incandessium.

The latter two were were byproducts of the processes used to refine Alicornium and Arcanium respectively. As a result, they were generally considered 'Low-Grade Mediums', primarily due to their high porosity and remarkable capacity for capturing moisture, which in turn could quickly degrade their bond with the enchanted object. Orzel's experiments revealed that steadily heating the two low-grade mediums together in a ceramic crucible not only removed any moisture they might've absorbed from the air, it also rendered them non-porous, thus rendering them 'Stabilized'. The resultant mixture, which the Princess had dubbed 'Sokolite' in her notes, was endowed with a twenty-fold increase in Bond Potency, which would make it one of the most powerful binding agents in the Enchanting field.

To achieve this effect the crucible had to maintain a temperature of no less than five-hundred-eighty Kelvin, but no more than seven-hundred Kelvin, for no less than three hours, but no more than five. Moreover, anything above seven-hundred-ten Kelvin, even a few minutes, would render the entire batch of Sokolite dangerously unstable. A fact Orzel had learned the hard way when she'd accidentally spilled a few unstable granules on the floor. The blinding flash of light and deafening 'Bang!' that followed, not unlike that of a gunshot, nearly sent every guard in the Castle into a tizzy. Of course, they all calmed down after Orzel explained what'd happened.

She'd gotten a talking-to from Mother about warning people before conducting experiments, though even Luna admitted there was no way Orzel could've known anything like that would've happened. Incandessium and Enchantium were classed as 'Low-Grade Mediums', after all. Overall she'd found the experience to be remarkably gratifying, all things considered. She'd filled at least half a dozen new notebooks, and in the end was better informed of her craft than she was at the start. Even if her experiments had failed, she would've counted the new insights she'd achieved as a resounding success.

The Princess swiftly shook her head, she was becoming distracted again. When fully combined, her WKD formula was great for making sure an object would maintain its level of enchantment indefinitely, but the margin for error correction averaged less than three seconds. Each stroke of the stylus had to be perfect and precise the first time, every time, especially now as she neared the final runes... It'd taken some tweaking of her knowledge on animation enchantments, as well as an extensive look at one of the 'flying chariots' occasionally employed by the Crown, but as with the development of WKD, the results were bound to be astounding.

Her reason for doing all this, aside from the costume she'd opted to wear to the Nightmare Night festivities in Ponyville, was to comply with her Mother's wishes. As Orzel was purchasing a workshop situated some forty miles away from Canterlot, she'd also started examining means by which to reach said workshop. Learning of this, Mother had ruled that Orzel couldn't own or operate an automobile or motorcycle until she was eighteen... Seeing as the workshop had a functional airstrip, Orzel had then approached the Army Air Corps about possibly purchasing a surplus Manticore biplane, with the aim to acquire a pilot's license upon her next birthday. Luna predictably put the kibosh on that plan as well...

Thus was born a need for mode of personal transportation that not only didn't pose a considerable risk, but didn't rely on an internal combustion engine. At first, the answer seemed obvious, a bicycle, but bicycles were too slow to be of use over such a great distance... More importantly, as Orzel had discovered with further embarrassment, most bicycles couldn't stand up under the weight of even a small dragon, as she was more commonly referring to herself. That wasn't to say that she was trapped at the Castle, she could request an automobile to take her wherever she wanted, or take a train, but... That was also slow, and would require her to interact with a larger number of people...

She'd therefore decided on drawing inspiration from Equestrian myth, which wasn't all that different from Szafirian in some instances. Equestrian witches were depicted as riding brooms, while those of the Szafirian persuasion rode about in gigantic 'mortars', or in houses on giant bird legs. Funnily enough, acquiring a broom was far easier than a giant mortar or avian-house hybrid. In this instance, the broom was going to be a lot more than a mere cleaning implement. Orzel made sure to include more than a few safety features, mostly in anticipation of placating Mother. There were also plenty of other features she'd added for the sake of comfort, or just to see if she could... In truth, she might've gone a tad overboard.

The girl briefly looked up at the clock. Fifteen minutes to go. Thankfully she was just applying the final rune, from there it'd be a simple matter of finalizing the bonds of all her runes and imbuing the broom with enough magic to self-sustain its enchantments. With eminent care, the stylus glided across the broomstick's surface, leaving a trail of faintly glowing WKD in its wake. The rune took hold with characteristic speed, carving itself deeply into the wood... Exhaling a sigh of relief, the Princess quickly set to tidying up her workspace, ensuring that the surface of the great enchanting table was clear of any possible contamination.

"Okay..." Orzel mumbled to herself in Szafirian, tucking her hands into the pockets of her lab coat and pacing to the large security door she'd recently had installed in the Enchantatarium. It, and a series of newly installed switches, were part of her bid to create a safer 'quasi-laboratory' environment. Just in case anything got out of hand, not that Orzel thought it would. The Princess pushed the door shut, then turned the locking mechanism until the door hissed, indicating the room was now hermetically sealed. Flicking one of the switches beside the door, labeled 'Intercom', Orzel cleared her throat. "As per the request regarding warnings when experiments are underway, please be aware that an enchantment finalization will take place in the Enchantatarium in the next five minutes. Thank you." With that she flicked the switch again.

"Now, have you anything further to suggest before we begin? Have I missed anything?" Orzel returned to her native tongue, addressing Midnight. Taking a pair of tinted safety goggles from a nearby drawer, the Princess approached the table with appraising eyes. Midnight scampered out of her lab coat pocket, hopping onto the smooth stony surface and sniffing around the broom. The familiar nodded when she appeared satisfied that all was well, so Orzel allowed the mouse to scamper up her arm and perch on her shoulder. Seating the goggles over her spectacles, the Princess took a deep breath and looked down upon her creation with remarkably cold intensity.

Moonlight streamed down from the great skylight above, helping to illuminate the waiting broom and the domed chamber beneath. Yet another reason she needed to complete her work tonight... According to Luna, the gravitational pull of the Moon had an influence on the Arcane Barrier. That, added with the Enchantitarium's location above one of the most powerful intersections of ley lines in Equestria, and a considerably sized vein of untapped Alicornium crystals, would further amplify how much magic Orzel would be able to call upon. It would all contribute to making this perhaps the most powerful enchantment Orzel had attempted thus far... All too necessary considering the level of power she calculated she'd need to infuse the broom with to be truly 'safe'. Atmospheric and gravitational conditions wouldn't be this optimal again for another two years at least.

Typically, this was the point where she would get some vague instinct as to what the proper rhyming incantation might be, usually this would be followed by a need to bust out a dictionary or thesaurus to better craft the spell's structure, but... Orzel wanted to try something different tonight... She'd come to learn that the language she used was just as important a component of the spell as her words. Generally, the older the language, the stronger its influences on the Arcane, though she'd yet as to figure out the cause as to why. Tonight she didn't feel a need to constrain herself to some clunky rhyming incantation. The rhyme was a means to add support to the spell, making it much easier to cast, but it also meant the spell might be weaker... In order to cast a spell without doing so, Orzel's focus had to become absolute. Summoning the first wisps of magic to her mind, the Princess breathed deeply.

"Powers of the Moon and Stars, hear my voice and obey!" She loudly proclaimed in Szafirian, her voice taking on a distinctly two-toned sound. Straightening to her full height, Orzel stretched her arms out to either side. She could afford no sign of weakness now, the rest of her magic would not come unless she was in complete control. So Orzel put every worry, uncertainty, and insecurity out of her mind... Every session of meditation, every prayer service, and all the relaxation techniques she'd learned from Doctor Scratch, culminated in one glorious moment of mental serenity. "I am Crown-Princess Orzel! Heir to the Obsidian Throne! Heir to the legacy of the Thestral Empire! Future Warden of Dreams and, whom shall be Regent of the Night itself! At my command, the forces of the cosmos shall bend to my will!"

Orzel's dominance over her own mind asserted her will like a conquering army, intent on bending the very powers of the universe to her vision. So came forth the coiling emerald vines of energy, lancing towards the waiting broom and the runes so carefully scribed there upon. If this was to work, if she was to make demands of the forces of the very elements of universe itself, her words would need to be spoken with the absolute authority and power of a monarch...

"To the furthest reaches of creation, let my word be absolute! Let my power take hold within this construct, that it might better serve my interests!" The room was flooded with the increasingly brilliant emerald glow, not only from the swirling vortices of magic, but from behind the tinted lenses of Orzel's goggles as well. Every surface was soon bathed in that most potent glow, punctuated by long black shadows that joined the ribbons of eerie verdant illumination... Gusts of wind followed shortly thereafter, each heavy blow carrying with it the tingling sensation of magic.

"Invigorated by my might, I am she who commands you! Take your new form, and arise into my service!" The magic was pouring forth from her mouth and nose, the girl's voice ringing out with an unyielding will of steel that shook the very air. When next she spoke, it was with all the calamitous thunder of an artillery barrage. "I will not be denied!"

All at once, the streams of energy coalesced around the broom, weaving themselves together into one massive blinding ball of light. So intense was the strength of illumination that a one guard would later recount how a great chartreuse beam stabbed forth from the enchantarium's skylight, striking nearly a mile upwards into cloudless night sky, balefully defiant of the darkness. This too cast the surrounding area in the unsettling emerald glow.

Meanwhile, within the Enchantatarium, a sudden pulse of energy rippled throughout the chamber, forceful enough that the very ground trembled underfoot. Countless bottles and containers vibrated on their shelves, though thankfully nothing took the opportunity to fall over. For a few moments Orzel could see nothing but the emerald light that could only come about through her magic, a pulsating conflagration that blazed brighter than a thousand suns...

Her labor, her craft, now given strength by her decree... It was a truly awesome sight, to see her will carried out without hesitation or question. No forms, no complaints, no questions. The sensation of power Orzel felt in that moment was intoxicating beyond measure. This must've been what Seeker Topaz meant, when he said that she would soon experience her true dragon strength.

Once more, a voice in her mind screamed out that what she felt was wrong, that she should've been more afraid of herself, but... It was so very far away, and quiet... Insignificant. In that instant, all her insecurities over how her appearance had changed seemed miniscule... What cause for worry over physical defects could ever hope to supplant such raw strength. For however many times she'd assured herself she was in control, none could come close to that moment... None, save for those few brief moments where she'd been on the verge of Elemental Transformation. Free of the boiling rage, there was nothing but euphoria. Was this how dragons were supposed to feel all the time? Unfortunately, she had little time to contemplate the question any further.

Just like that, the spell was cast and the blinding light winked into nothingness, plunging the entire chamber almost entirely into darkness. Within a matter of moments, the carefully maintained focus of tranquility was broken, replaced by a splitting headache and a dizzying sensation of vertigo... The Princess found herself leaning heavily on the table, legs quaking, heart pounding thunderously in her ears. In a matter of moments her skin was glistening with sweat, and with trembling fingers she haphazardly removed her goggles, tossing them onto the table and blinking the spots from her eyes. Eventually the spots vanished and her vision returned more or less to normal... Lingering sparkles of emerald light twinkled in and out of existence, lazily floating about like countless of tiny fireflies. She watched them for a time, then looked at the clock on the wall... Less than ten minutes.

"Just need to... Sit down for a moment..." Orzel mumbled, supporting herself on the table as she grabbed a nearby stool and pulled it closer. It became far easier to focus once she was off her feet, and in her summation that meant she still had to ensure her work was successful. All that expended energy would be wasted if the enchantments hadn't bound themselves properly. Not wasting any further time, the Princess examined the broom with renewed purpose.

Visibly it appeared entirely different, nothing like its previous worn out self... The wood was a strikingly deep shade of black, its surface polished to a glossy finish, the bristles affixed by tightly bound bronze rings. The broomstick curved upwards like the blade of a sabre, sharply tapering into an aggressive point. Running her fingers along their surface, Orzel found that the runes appeared to have been filled in by a black obsidian-like material, rendering the broomstick almost perfectly smooth. Situated at the 'nose' was a raised polished bronze 'badge', depicting a pair of cannons crossed over one another. Occasionally the runes would pulse with more of that vibrant emerald energy, but this effect rapidly deteriorated as time went on.

The broomstick's most prominent change, however, was the fact that it currently hovered approximately two feet off the table. Orzel quietly whistled, and the broom lunged towards her. She plucked the broom from the air as it moved, finding that in her hand it felt more or less exactly as one might expect... Perhaps it was a little heavier. It was, as far as she could tell, exactly what she'd pictured in her mind when casting the spell. Already her headache was subsiding, as were the sweats and vertigo... The Princess held the broom horizontally at about waist height, then let go. To her increasing satisfaction, it remained floating more or less exactly where she let it go...

"Interesting..." Orzel hummed whilst straightening her lab coat... So far it seemed her enchantments were holding up, but there was only one way to be sure. "Now, to test the handling." With a good deal of effort, the Princess stood on wobbly legs. After a few moments gathering her strength, she swung her leg up and over the broomstick, mounting it as one might mount a motorcycle. She actually found the 'seat' to be rather comfortable, no doubt aided by some of her other enchantments, and the broom overall certainly felt sturdy enough.

Tentatively Orzel lifted her feet from the floor, still the broom remained airborne, more than easily supporting her weight. She thought about commanding it to move forwards, and without even saying a word the broom glided slowly ahead. The same thing happened when she wanted it to go in reverse, then side to side. That was good, but the real test emerged when she tested the broom's abilities for roll, pitch, and yaw. It responded rapidly to each command, which briefly renewed her sense of vertigo, and nearly caused her to vomit. Despite that last bit, however, it seemed all the basic mental flight controls functioned worked as she'd imagined they would.

"Most satisfactory." Though her voice maintained its typical monotone, to say Orzel was anything less than ecstatic was to do that word a grave disservice. Typically she would've called it done there, but there was one last thing she needed to do before she could call her creation finished.

All of her earlier projects had either been undertaken out of necessity or as a means of furthering her knowledge of the craft... While this one was also a necessity, it was the first time Orzel had allowed her creativity to 'run the show' when it came to the final product. So it was only fitting that this latest creation of hers be given a name... After a few moments of careful consideration, she settled on the moniker 'Piorun', in honor of her father's ship. It was about that time that Midnight abruptly began squeaking, pointing with her tiny forelegs towards the clock.

"Right, of course..." Orzel mumbled whilst rubbing at her forehead, her faculties were returning to fuller clarity with every passing second. Despite the headache and lingering dizziness, she had no intention of missing her trip to Ponyville that night. Though, as she looked upon her simple clothing and lab coat, it was hard to imagine she'd make it in time. Her current attire would hardly do for tonight's festivities, and usually it took her a good while to make it to her tower. Then again, usually she didn't have 'Piorun'. It would serve as a decent test of the controls... "Well, let us be off." With that, the Princess picked the mouse off the table and tucked the insistent rodent into her jacket's breast pocket.

Riding upon Piorun proved to be surprisingly intuitive, and Orzel found little issue in navigating it over towards the door. Quickly she unsealed the chamber, opened the door, and zoomed out into the hallway. While her creation was theoretically capable of going much faster, at present Orzel was content to glide along at just above a sprinting pace. She did notice, to her slight disappointment, that Piorun was far from completely perfect... Specifically she noted a distinct trail of dull black fog left in its wake. It wasn't smoke per se, and it evaporated after about ten seconds... She'd intended it to be a trail of stardust, but her rush to finish things in time had led to her prioritizing the accuracy of the fundamental runes as opposed to the cosmetics... Better time management, in the future, would prove just as crucial as the work itself. Yet another lesson learned.

Undeterred, the Princess pressed on, gathering more speed along the way. Within a few moments she'd already reached the spiral staircase leading up to the castle proper, which the broom managed to negotiate with similar ease... Mentally, it felt just as easy as walking. Orzel passed several of the cleaning staff and guards, taking care not to run anyone over as she continued putting her Piorun through its paces. All those she passed stopped to stare at her, as if to ask themselves whether they were losing their minds or not.

Pleasingly, Orzel managed to accomplish the journey from the Enchantatarium to her tower in less than a quarter of the normal time, this time utilizing the interior hallway as opposed to venturing out into the Castle gardens. The heavy door unlocked itself and swung open just as she came upon it, courtesy of another of the many proverbial 'bells and whistles' she'd included in the nimble little cleaning implement... In retrospect, she might've gone a tad overboard in that department, considering some of the other features she'd managed. That didn't even include all the stuff she'd been forced to leave out on account of nearly running out of 'enchantable mass'... Next time she'd need to get something bigger.

Passing by her workbenches on the lower floor, Orzel ascended the steps of her tower at blazing speed, reaching her bed chamber in a matter of seconds. Bringing the broom to a stop proved to be a bit tricky... It stopped exactly when she told it to, but doing so at her current pace nearly sent the Princess toppling forward, a fate mitigated only by one of the safety enchantments. Perhaps she'd made the 'brakes' a bit too... Grippy. Nothing she wouldn't get used to with practice.

With that, Orzel dismounted Piorun, rolling her shoulders and rubbing at her forehead. By now the headache was fading to a dull throbbing sensation, while the vertigo, dizziness, and sweating had since stopped completely. She still felt a tad wobbly on her feet, but that was it... Without pausing to consider the toll casting such a powerful spell had taken any further, the Princess quickly took off her lab coat, and prepared to change out of her daily clothes in favor of something a bit more... Well, she wasn't exactly sure.

The sense of urgency Orzel felt up to that point evaporated, replaced by a rapid onset of anxiety. She'd already chosen her outfit for the night a few days ago. Nightmare Night was fairly simple to plan for, in theory. In practice she found herself suddenly paralyzed by the worst case of the jitters she'd ever had. In just a few short minutes, she and her Mother would depart the Castle for the town of Ponyville, and once there...? Well, Orzel was going to meet Spike again... It was supposed to be a 'just friends' thing, but... She'd spoken and written to Spike several times since that first night she called, and though at times Orzel was worried she might be making a mistake, or saying too much, she nonetheless carried on.

She'd read the book he recommended, the idea of soldiers wearing camouflage wasn't entirely unheard of, it'd just never been implemented on a wide scale... Already she was thinking of ways she might incorporate such information into her own work, the 'Ballistic Cuirass' in particular. The Princess wasn't exactly an expert with a needle and thread, but she was a lot better at it than most... Being virtually blind had forced her to become exceptionally adept at doing so by 'feel', and so it was even easier now with the aid of sight.

Sewing was one of the many skills Sokol taught her throughout her old life, much like cooking, cleaning, and other staples of home life. All would've been expected for a typical 'Lady of the House' to know in Cesarski. Considering that was the only way she would've maintained her status as a member of the Warrior Caste, they were absolutely vital for someone deemed 'defective' like her.

It was the only time Orzel recalled actually ever being afraid of Sokol... The intensity with which her Mother spoke, how harsh she'd been about getting the details right, because the alternative was at best a life condemned to begging on Cesarski's cruel streets, and at worst...? Orzel didn't want to think about it. That memory didn't really help her with the sense of nervousness she felt now, especially at the thought of meeting Spike, this time in an even less formal setting than the Grand Galloping Gala.

"Enough!" Orzel suddenly growled at her spiraling thoughts, straightening her posture. It didn't help all that much. Though she wanted to call upon her earlier confidence when she'd cast her spell, her mind was just too 'fuzzy' at the moment to even come close to summoning such force of will again. More over, enchanting and socializing were two entirely separate fields. When it came to her knowledge of the former, it had swelled beyond the encyclopedic, and still it grew with every passing day... When it came to the latter...? Well, she was hopelessly outclassed by virtually everyone she knew. "It is just like talking with those people at Aunt Celestia's fundraiser, only this time I need not pretend to be happy to see him." She assured herself, even though that was decidedly not the limit of the story.

Throughout their letters and conversations, she'd found herself more intrigued by Spike's recent views... He'd challenged her perceptions of Equestria, even offered rebuttals... Specifically, that she was more likely ostracized on political grounds as opposed to her simply being a Dragon. More importantly, he was neither a Noble nor a Black Crown... Evidently he had little interest in the politics of either party, and so long as Equestria prospered and he was left alone, he cared little for the causes of his more vocal peers. The only cause he took any interest in was the safety and well being of those who couldn't help themselves...

Complicating matters was the fact that Spike now regularly referred to Orzel as 'My Lady', both by telephone and in his letters. While that was well and good in Equestria, it held a far different, and frankly literal, connotation among Imperial society. So why then had the Princess said it was okay? She didn't really know... Perhaps it was just a moment of weakness, part of her foolish hope that their growing friendship might become something more. Whatever the reason, it was too late to put the genie back in the bottle.

With those worries firmly in mind, Orzel set to getting into her witch costume. She'd decided to go as historically accurate as possible, the creation of which served as decent practice to shake the cobwebs off of her sewing skills. It wasn't perfect by any means, and more than once she'd needed to ask her Mother for help. Aunt Celestia said that the imperfections 'gave it character', which Orzel supposed she could live with. The looseness of the black fabric helped to conceal Orzel's increasingly defined muscles, the long sleeves and tight collar likewise adding to that effect. The only thing that Orzel wasn't happy about was the skirt, which was just a hair too short for her liking, only barely covering her ankles...

Sure, Equestria was the land of liberated fashion norms, but some 'Old World' sensibilities were harder to shake than others. The hat was by far her favorite part of the entire thing, the floppy brim and conical pointed top further adding to her headscarf's ability to conceal her horns. Looking at herself in the mirror, the Princess straightened the hat, then put her hands on her hips... For the most part she actually felt she looked rather pretty, at least until she got up to her fangs.

Deciding that she wanted to look her best when meeting Spike, she grabbed a crimson scarf from the wardrobe and used it to cover her lower face. She also grabbed a pair of 'pilots goggles', which she'd acquired in anticipation of finishing Piorun. These she pulled on over her head, seating them above her spectacles. From there she walked to her desk, grabbing a olive drab messenger satchel she'd left resting beside a neatly ordered row of model paints. The satchel was characteristically heavy, as it contained several books. Furthermore, a metallic rattling sound emanated from within whenever Orzel jostled it around.

A look at the ticking clock indicated there was less than three minutes until she'd be late, odds were Mother was already wondering where she was. So with her costume settled and her satchel secured, Orzel hopped back onto Piorun and took off down the tower steps. There were less obstacles between her and the front courtyard if she went outside, so this time Orzel made her exit through the battlement, out into the Castle gardens. The guards stationed beside the door both emitted audible yelps of surprise, but that was all of their reaction Orzel managed to hear before she took to the skies.

No longer constrained to the Castle hallways or the concern of running someone over, Orzel was free to see just how fast Piorun could go. It was a miracle she didn't lose her hat with the amount of wind rushing past her, cold enough to nearly take her breath away. Her costume was thankfully made of several layers of wool, which at least spared the majority of her body from the frigid cold... It couldn't have been more than forty degrees.

With startling agility the broom carried her up and around the towering spires of Canterlot Castle, over its glittering gold-plated rooftops and wide-open skylights. Illuminated as it always was, the Castle looked remarkably different from above... That alone would've been enough to make the whole project worthwhile, but there was yet more to see. The vast metropolis of Canterlot, with its brightly lit skyscrapers and brilliant neon signage, was enough to give the Princess pause... For thirty seconds she lingered more than a thousand feet up, heart pounding with excitement, an unexpectedly broad grin spreading beneath her scarf. Were she not on a deadline, she might very well have stayed there for a good while...

Still, she was on a deadline, and so Orzel put Piorun into a rapid descent towards the Castle's main courtyard. There she could see a waiting carriage, hitched to a pair of dark horses. It was done up in the typical Gothic style Mother preferred, unlike the bright and often gaudy gold-plated carriages utilized by Aunt Celestia. Drawing closer to the ground, Orzel slowed the broom down, this time more gradually than had been the case on her first attempt. The result was her swiftly, but not too swiftly, coming in to hover more or less next to the carriage, much to the apparent surprise of the horses, a pair of Lunar Marines, and two familiar faces... Mother, of course, and Piercing Gaze... Oh joy...

The way Luna remembered the first 'Nightmare Night' so many centuries ago, snow had just started falling when first she stepped forth onto the balcony of the Castle of the Two Sisters. A would-be Queen, greeted by the echoing patriotic shouts of tens of thousands of loyal Thestral warriors, all of whom waiting to hear her speak. There she'd stood, fueled by the rage and anguish of countless injuries she'd suffered for so long in silence, certain that her's was the only vision under which Equestria, nay, the world, should be ruled. The speech she'd given, passionate and stirring, spurring her subjects down a path of bloody civil war...

She'd no idea that her attempted coup would ignite a conflict that would span the next decade. Nor could she have foreseen that her inevitable defeat would come at a cost of two million lives, or that said defeat would see one of the largest Empires in the world reduced to little more than a historical footnote. These were the memories that Luna ruminated on now as she made her way through the halls of Canterlot Castle, adorned fittingly in a black hooded cloak of mourning, not unlike that worn by the Grim Reaper. For her, the memories of that first 'Nightmare Night' were anything but jovial, especially as she recalled all those young men and women she'd led in countless battles, most of which died fruitless deaths. Luna had never been able to understand just how Nightmare Night became as widely celebrated as it was...

It was only at Celestia's urging that Luna was taking an unannounced trip to Ponyville, the site of her most recent defeat, arguably the 'final battle' of the Nightmare War. Luna still contended that there were some things that she couldn't be forgiven for, but Celestia of course countered that a thousand years consigned to solitude on a soundless, heatless, crater-strewn, gray barren space rock was penance enough. She insisted on forgiving her sister, no matter how much the guilt haunted Luna's dreams, and Luna couldn't help but love Celestia all the more for that. Luna need only look to the man walking beside her to realize just how important forgiveness was, because in her eyes all had been forgiven when it came to Piercing Gaze.

Piercing wouldn't be accompanying her and her daughter tonight, for a number of reasons... Firstly, he didn't particularly care for the holiday. Seeing as he'd been a stark naked raving lunatic when last they'd met, meeting with the Elements of Harmony again was also likely to prove awkward for all involved. Chief among his reasons for remaining in Canterlot, however, was the fact that Director Orcus had 'matters' to discuss with him. Luna didn't know what he meant, aside from the tear in the Arcane Barrier. She supposed she'd learn from Piercing when she returned and talk to him...

Looking over at Piercing, hands tucked into the pockets of his peacoat, Luna could see that distant glint in his eyes. Her suitor was off in his head somewhere, probably pondering the great mysteries of life, or the setting of some fantastical story he'd yet to write. Often times Luna wished she could become so lost as he did, to so easily walk the verdant hills of a paradise in her waking mind...

"As per the request regarding warnings when experiments are underway, please be aware that an enchantment finalization will take place in the Enchantatarium in the next five minutes. Thank you." Orzel's voice suddenly crackled over the Castle's intercom, drawing Luna from her thoughts of the past, on to the concerns of the present. Of all the many worries she'd entertained that day, none were quite so numerous as those that drew upon her concern for the precious precocious Princess Orzel...

Tonight she would accompany Luna to Ponyville, not for the sake of meeting with the public in general, but to spend time with one particular group of people. Spike and his 'gaming group', where together she would join them in playing something called Ogres and Oubliettes. Luna was vaguely familiar with the game, but regardless of that fact, it'd led to another case of her being unsure of how to feel. Certainly she was happy to see her daughter engaging with her peers, but... There had been some shameful part of Luna, an exceedingly small part, that thought such a day might never come. Now it was here, and Orzel was once again striking out on her own.

To Luna, the two years until Orzel became an adult were fast feeling as fleeting as a mere handful of seconds. Then she'd be free to go off out into the world on her own... Odds were she'd rush to college, and that'd mean long periods where Luna wouldn't be able to take part in her daughter's life. The overwhelming majority of the woman's heart knew it'd be for the best, that Orzel couldn't stay sheltered behind the Castle walls forever, but there were so many different obstacles she might face then, obstacles Luna likely couldn't do anything about...

For all those future worries, there were just as many in the present... Her daughter's foundership of a private company, particularly the ominous name she'd bestowed upon it. 'Basilisk Defense Technologies', or just Basilisk for short, was a decisively un-equestrian name. Granted, Orzel wasn't one for following Equestrian naming conventions, but the fact that she'd gone out of her way to name it after a weapon told Luna that sooner or later, body armor and other equipment wouldn't be the only thing her daughter dreamt up... She still had trouble imagining her daughter actively creating something that's purpose was to take lives, though that did little to keep her from contemplating the accidents that could happen as a result...

Orzel's subsequent purchase of her own personal air base and arsenal was another issue entirely, especially considering said air base's location. Luna was hoping the deal would fall through before the closing date, or that Orzel would realize commuting over such a vast distance wasn't worth it when there were plenty of other places closer to home... Realistically Luna was all too aware that if Orzel wanted to get something done, odds were she'd find a way of making it happen, regardless of whether or not the end goal was actually a good idea. Not that getting a workshop wasn't a good idea, just... Luna would've preferred it at least be in the same county as Canterlot.

These thoughts were interrupted by Orzel's voice booming in the vague direction of the Castle gardens. Tonight Luna could physically feel the vibrations of the Arcane Barrier, whatever spell Orzel was casting, it was magic of a considerably high caliber... The Castle staff were used to such disturbances by now, but there had been occasional complaints from apartments a as a few blocks away. Then there were the generally outrageous business and property tax rates that came with living in Equestria's capital.

That didn't even include the explosive incident with the girl's development of 'Sokolite', something Luna would've put a stop to were it not for Orzel's extensive note taking prior to the accident... There was a good chance Enchantium and Incandessium would find themselves reclassified from 'Low-Grade Mediums' as a result, which would hopefully make Equestria safer in the long run. Really, how many other 'perfectly safe' arcane products weren't so perfectly safe after all? Perhaps it would be up to Orzel to really find out...

So long as Orzel kept to the conditions of the deal, Luna supposed her daughter was free to waste as much time as she wanted commuting back and forth. Actually, as Luna thought about it from that perspective, it wasn't as bad as she thought. Any time Orzel spent going back and forth from the workshop was time that couldn't be spent tinkering with dangerous contraptions or otherwise putting herself in harms way. She still didn't like the idea of Orzel traveling so far away, but she could understand the appeal of seclusion.

The girl's thunderous voice grew even louder, until Luna felt the ground tremble beneath her feet, bringing both her and Piercing to an abrupt halt. There was powerful magic, and then there was powerful magic... The vibrations in the Arcane Barrier were far more pronounced, more so than typically might've been possible given Orzel's skill level... Luna then recalled a conversation she'd had with her daughter about the phases of the moon, and how the effects of celestial bodies could influence the flow of magic.

"Clever girl..." Luna mumbled, and while she was impressed at the attempt to maximize spell power, she nonetheless worried about how much magic her daughter might be using. While Orzel's reserves of magic were theoretically as boundless as Luna's own, accessing those reserves was like exercising a muscle. Pushing too hard too quickly could be hazardous enough to a Spell-Caster's health to require hospitalization... Luna looked to piercing, to gauge his reaction to it all. A wizard of his ability, not to mention his knowledge of Kwarczkie physiology, would tell her if something was wrong. Thankfully the woman was relieved to see that his primary emotion in that instant was one of felicitous intrigue.

"She's a Drake, Lu. She's built differently, I wouldn't worry..." He shrugged simply, as if reading the woman's mind. The man had an uncanny ability for understatement. He'd probably deduced everything she'd just thought of, or at least had a general idea of it. "Alright, out with it... What's going on in that big beautiful head of yours?" Luna couldn't suppress a smile as the two resumed their walk to the Castle courtyard. Judging by the significantly modern decorations of this particular hallway, they weren't far from the front entrance. "Let me guess..." The man theatrically closed his eyes and held his hands up, pantomiming a spell casting technique. "You're... Worried about something!"

"My my... That is exactly right. How do you do it?" The woman's voice was dripping with sarcasm, nonetheless she was unable to keep from feeling a little better... Just a smidgeon. "She is getting stronger..." The woman nodded her head towards the gardens, then allowed Piercing to take his hand into hers. "I know she is working to get out more now, but... Do you think she is... What is the term? 'Burning the candle at both ends'?" The man realistically couldn't answer, Luna knew that, and he responded with a simple shrug of his shoulders. "It feels as if she is obsessing over everything, I cannot help a worry she is at risk of burning herself out... It is not as if she needs to prove herself to me, I thought she would have realized that by now..."

"I think it's safe to say I know a great deal about that last bit." Piercing's voice carried a hint of wistful irony, which did little to dismiss Luna's lingering question. "I don't think she's trying to prove herself to you... I think she wants to prove herself to the world. When I was her age I was absolutely certain of my abilities, but my instructors weren't... So I wanted to take on the world, to prove them wrong, to be the young man that, when he walked down the street, people admired and respected. More than that, I wanted the world to behold the brilliance that was me!" Piercing trailed off in a joking manner, only for his shoulders slump as he sighed.

"She briefly had that platform when she was running the country, but now there's little call for her to hold nightly court with the same frequency." The man continued, rolling his shoulders and puffing out his chest. "So, like any decent tinkerer, she must adapt. She must find a new platform to claim as her own. Whether that's in the field of politics of private industry is hard to say..." He shrugged, tucking his hands into his pockets. "Either way, given enough time and just a little leeway, I think she'll surprise us with the fruits of her labor, then she'll ease back and rest on her laurels." Luna pondered that for a few moments, glancing over her shoulder in the direction of the gardens.

"Resting on her laurels is not something that strikes me as a particularly 'Orzel' thing to do." Luna countered, pausing briefly. "Politics... Private industry... Armor and weapons... These are fields for adults, not children." She lamented, shaking her head as she returned her eyes forwards.

Luna recalled the conversation she'd held with Piercing on the first night she'd returned to Canterlot, the journey up the steps of Orzel's tower. He'd assured her that worrying over if she should've adopted Orzel was hardly worth the effort. Try as she might to convince herself that it was, with every new challenge her daughter insisted on undertaking, Luna still couldn't help but think that by giving Orzel the title of Crown Princess, she'd taken something from her as well... That most precious gift of all, which could never be recovered once it inevitably faded away. Childhood.

Another part of the woman knew that Orzel was hardly a child, even before the 'Fall of Cesarski'. The Empire had robbed her of that gift long before the girl had ever heard the word 'Equestria'. It'd been beaten out of her, not through force, but through threats and fear... Luna still recalled the flashes of Orzel's nightmares quite vividly. Whatever ephemeral remnant of childhood that might've remained, even following the death of Sokol, had since been thoroughly burned away... Jadedly cast aside in favor of cynicism.

Now, when Luna looked at her daughter, she saw an ever inquisitive mind, someone that wanted to change the world for the better, and that was good... Just as important, if not more so, was what Luna didn't see. In Equestria, Drakes were known for their boldness, their thirst for life. It was that aggressive pursuit of greater fortune and glory that often put them at odds with Equestria. That same desire for conquest and adventure was something that every Drake Luna had ever encountered proclaimed was what made life worth living.

Orzel certainly had no trouble taking bold action, but every day she was becoming... Colder, more distant. She didn't smile, nor did she laugh... She didn't listen to her opera records anymore, and the fleet of model ships that'd once expanded so rapidly had more or less slowed to a trickle. Whenever she spoke, her voice came across as monotonous and quiet. There was a fire burning deep down, the Luna knew that much. With every passing day it became difficult for even Luna to discern what her daughter's true feelings were on a given subject, if she even had feelings... Of course she had feelings, but it was what she was doing with those feelings that worried Luna. For that, Luna also blamed herself. She'd set the example of cold aloofness, and as with so many other things, Orzel had not only adopted it as her own, she excelled at it.

"For the common people of Equestria, perhaps, but you know as well as I do that Monarchs are not common people." Piercing countered sagely, bringing Luna back to the moment as he clasped his hands behind his back. "By nature, a Monarch must be exceptional, they must be the ideal to which the rest of the nation looks to for guidance, else that nation shall lose its way. A Monarch must inspire their subjects to greater feats than they otherwise might think themselves capable of. Sometimes through oration, and others... Through action." Luna looked at the man, jaw slightly slackened.

"That last bit was..." She started.

"From your coronation address, yes." Piercing completed the sentence readily. "I still say it's one of your better speeches. Then again, you did consult an exceptionally talented, and handsome, author beforehand." A cheeky smile spread across his face, his head cocking back ever so slightly. Luna shook her head with the faintest of chuckles, a ghost of a smile managing to crack through her stoney facade. "I'm more concerned with how she's going to handle having me around. Considering she seems to want nothing to do with me..." It was true, Orzel's distance when it came to Piercing had increased dramatically since the Global Series, and lately she'd only come to family dinner if Luna specifically requested her presence. "Then again, I'm sure she'll warm up to me once we get that workshop of hers up and running! If there's one thing she'll respect, it's a healthy worth ethic!".

"You are truly excited to work with her? It is not just because she will be teaching you a dead language?" Luna asked, Piercing held up his left hand and made a sort of fifty-fifty gesture.

"I admit, the chance of being the only one of my ancient peers to actually learn Kwarczkie from a native speaker is hard to pass up, but..." The man trailed off, then nodded with stout determination. "Yes, despite my trepidation about children in general, I'd say I'm excited. For numerous reasons... Mostly because I'm flat broke and she's paying me two Bits an hour. I don't know if it's much, but it's something!" Luna nearly burst out laughing at both Piercing's excitement and the mention of his salary.

"Actually, two Bits an hour is quite a lot. The national minimum wage is a quarter of that." She explained, matter-of-factly. Deciding to press him further on his comment, Luna raised another question. "Though I fail to see how you could possibly be 'broke'... Last I checked, you have transcended into an immortal being of pure chaos... Reformed of course. Could you not just snap your fingers and become a millionaire?"

Piercing shrugged as the two of them passed through the Castle's main entrance hall. It was darkened now, the various help desks and reception area dimly lit by desk lamps. A radio on the reception desk echoed faintly through the cavernous space, Mister Ocean Swells from the 'Andromeda Theater on the Air' was apparently presenting a rendition of 'The Clash of the Planets'. Meanwhile, a rather rotund pegasus in blue coveralls mopped the floor off to one side, his focus almost entirely on his work. He eventually spotted the two of them as they moved towards the front door, at which point he abruptly snapped to attention, gripping the mop as if it were a rifle, which resulted in droplets of dirty water cascading onto his boots. Luna merely nodded to the man, and just like that he went back to work.

"Sure, I could do just 'snap my fingers', but that hardly seems sporting to everyone else." Piercing agreed with a shrug, gesturing towards the janitor to emphasize his point about 'sport'. "Also, wouldn't I go to jail? I'm reliably informed that counterfeiting is a felony." Piercing pointed out with greatly exaggerated inflection, ever so faintly emphasized by his Trottingham accent. "The alternative is to take existing money from somewhere else, which is robbery. Also a felony." Luna couldn't help but chuckle as the man took mimicked holding onto a set of prison bars.

"I only just got out of the clink, I'm not goin' back in. Although...?" He stopped beside the castle's front door, grabbed the handle, and held it open... A wave of slightly chilly air washed over the two of them, allowing Luna to step into the night with the man not too far behind her. "I suppose I could snap my fingers and use my nigh-omnicience to take money from mobsters and other criminals...? It's not like they deserve to have it anyway, and they very well can't go to the police about it either." Piercing shrugged. "Meh, maybe that's an idea for when I'm bored of working for a living... For now, on top of a job at BDT, I suspect my prospects for gainful employment will greatly increase following my meeting with Orcus tonight."

"Indeed." Luna's tone implied that she would expect a report on the happenings, just in case Piercing didn't already understand that bit, or might think of acting contrarily. Together the two of them made their way out into the courtyard, overlooking the weathered stone steps to a waiting horse carriage parked below. Darkly painted, sporting sharp angles and spikes, it was more than appropriately themed for the coming festivities. Two Lunar Marines stood ready beside it, likewise attired for an evening of spooky shenanigans...

Much to Luna's expectation, and slight annoyance, Orzel was nowhere in sight. Regardless, the two of them descended the steps to the carriage, with Piercing reaching into his jacket pocket and withdrawing an tarnished old brass pocket watch. He'd secured it from the of the Castle's 'Lost and Found', it'd been sitting there for about a month, so he was fairly certain no one would come to claim it. Luna would've purchased him a new one, but Piercing insisted he wanted that one in particular, because 'it had character'... Luna could see the hands as Piercing flipped the lid open. Just two minutes and Orzel would be late... Of course, she also noted a small photograph of herself somehow affixed to the inside of the watch cover. Odds were he'd added that himself.

"It still amazes me that we have clocks that can fit in our pockets!" Piercing grinned enthusiastically, leaning forward and examining the watch. After a few moments he reached into his pocket and withdrew his glasses, which he insisted he only needed for reading small print. While it was indeed night time, the courtyard was bathed in the buzzing glow of streetlamps, and even looking at it from a distance Luna could see the digits clear enough. "You'd think they'd make the numbers easier to read." The woman bit her lip, nervously sucking air through her nose.

"Have you been having more trouble reading things lately?" Luna tried to hide the concern in her voice, of course that didn't help with Piercing, he was too good at reading her. The man closed the pocket watch and restored it to his jacket, then shrugged, offering a half smile.

"Just a little extra fuzziness, that's all. Nothing to worry about." He assured her, Luna crossed her arms across her chest as they arrived at the carriage. He then removed his glasses and tucked them back into his pocket. "But you're going to worry anyway..." The man deadpanned, watching the woman climb into the vehicle and take her seat. "Luna, I'm fine. It's nothing I'm not used to." Luna shook her head, sighing tensely while leaning back in her seat.

"Did it start getting worse before or after you were freed?" The woman asked pointedly, Piercing pursed his lips and looked at the paving stones. Not the response Luna was hoping for... "We still do not fully understand the long term effects of prolonged stone imprisonment, my love... If you are feeling unwell, even if it is minor, you must tell me." She was relieved to see him nod, rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck.

"Okay... It started getting worse at the baseball game." The scholar admitted sheepishly, lifting his eyes to meet Luna's. "Other than that, I feel fine. I just have a little trouble reading different things sometimes." Luna reached out of the carriage, resting her hand on the man's shoulder. He of course clasped it in his own, squeezing it tightly. "Come on, Luna. It's not that bad."

"It is not troublesome at present." Luna corrected pointedly. "We have no idea if the condition will deteriorate further over time. Never fear, it is a problem that can easily be examined." Already the woman was plotting what needed to be done, what specialists she'd need to see.

Orzel had an appointment with her optometrist and her optician coming up in a few weeks, she could probably call and pencil Piercing in as well. Both of them were bar-none the best practitioners of their trade in Equestria. Her daughter had 20/600 vision, but they'd managed to create lenses to get her back to 20/20. If the duo of doctors could prescribe and fabricate lenses to correct that level of impairment, Luna had no doubt they'd be able to help Piercing...

It'd also give Piercing and Orzel another opportunity to interact with one another, maybe even foster a better relationship between the two... Luna just hoped Piercing wouldn't mind what Orzel intended to do before hand. The appointment was on a Sunday afternoon, and Orzel would be attending morning services before her appointment. As Luna had come to learn, they tended to last anywhere between two or four hours, typically towards the latter half of the scale. She was still uncertain about her daughter's renewed religious tendencies, so maybe having Piercing accompany Orzel under the guise of going to the optometrist later might grant the woman an insight into just what went on there.

These thoughts were dashed when, much to the surprise of everyone present, a costumed figure descended out of the darkness above, her face hidden beneath a red scarf and a pair of pilot's goggles. Still, given the persons size and the thick glasses beneath the goggles, it wasn't hard to figure out who it was. Orzel glided down atop what looked to be a stylized broom, moving at a speed that made Luna inwardly wince. With surprising agility the girl swung the broom down in beside the carriage.

"Hello, Mother." Orzel greeted monotonously, taking the goggles off and more carefully seating her pointy hat. "Mister Gaze..." She nodded to Piercing, then dismounted the broom and plucked it from the air. Luna quickly found herself needing to subdue a hiss of annoyance... Just what she needed, another thing to possibly give her a heart attack.

"What do you think you are doing with that, young lady?" Luna asked coldly as Orzel stepped up into the carriage and took her own seat. She rested the broom in her lap, the surface was absolutely brimming with faintly glowing runes, too numerous and intricate for Luna to discern exactly what each did.

"You said I could not purchase an automobile, nor could I acquire an aeroplane or pilots license." Orzel stated simply, Luna looked intently at the broom, as if to point out that it was an aircraft. "Under statute six-two-nine-seven, subsection C, paragraph two of the Aviation Standards Act, any flying vehicle that falls beneath a maximum takeoff weight of four-hundred pounds and possesses a fuel capacity of less than ten gallons is not legally an aeroplane and may be operated by individuals not possessing a pilot's license." The girl patted the broom tenderly, then shrugged. "My Piorun weighs less than ten pounds, and has no fuel tank whatsoever, easily meeting those parameters and therefore not violating your ban on airborne transportation."

Orzel just stared at Luna blankly as the woman's mind scrambled to come up with some sort of response. Every time... Every time she thought she'd gotten through to her daughter, the girl would find a means of twisting her words around so that she could fall within the letter of something Luna said, but not the spirit... Almost like a smaller version of Jet Set, except less smarmy. Anger didn't quite do justice to what Luna felt at the moment, because on some deeper level she knew, with unwavering certainty, that this was the exact same sort of thing she'd put Celestia through at her daughter's age. It wasn't helped by Piercing quietly snickering off to the side, he too saw the irony, and unlike her he could freely revel in it... Well, almost freely. Luna cast a less than enthused glare at him, the sort that said 'You are not helping, stop not helping.', at which point the man quickly reined himself in.

"With this, I may quietly make my way to Mister Spike's home without detracting from your glorious arrival." Orzel added, offering the broom to Luna for inspection. "Before you pass judgment, know that I included considerable safety measures in anticipation of your hesitance. Should my word not convince you, you may see for yourself."

The woman quickly took the broom and examined the runes in question, passing some of her magic through the object made them glow brighter. What caught her interest first was the intricacies those enchantments were implemented with, inscribed in flowing, spiraling, verdant vines. The care and talent that'd gone into their creation far surpassed anything Orzel had thus-far presented. Here Luna saw, for the first time, the truest depths of the girl's passion for her craft... It was just as much an enchanted item as it was a work of art, undoubtedly crafted through a combination of scientific experimentation and artistic flare. A method so outlandish, that it'd likely never before attempted by modern practitioners. It surpassed Luna's ability to reliably divine if Orzel's words held truth, and so she passed it along to Piercing.

"My my my..." Piercing mumbled as he too examined the runes, his entire face lighting up with childlike excitement. "This is something..." He grinned broadly, turning his attention to Orzel. "This is Starswirl's poly-direction matrix, but you've tied it into an adaptive thought contingent and routed it to..." The man's grin grew wider. "A modified Observos levitation sigil. See, I always thought it could be applied to something smaller than a carriage, but not this small!" To Luna's surprise, she saw her daughter's eyes actually widen. "How did you compensate for the lesser mass?"

"I diverted the excess energy into the inertial compensation and pilot retention strings near the middle..." Orzel's voice briefly lost its monotone, replaced by one of faintest excitement. Luna therefore deduced the girl was inwardly ecstatic, a good step towards warming relations between the two. Almost mechanically, she gestured to a section of runes near the bristles. "Whatever was left is supposed to feed a stardust illusion generator, but... All it makes when I fly is black smog." Piercing nodded in evident understanding, then handed the broom back to Orzel.

"If you're seeing black smoke it means you're not flying fast enough." Piercing explained simply, which immediately set Luna's heart racing. "There's too much arcane energy flooding the generator, whatever isn't being used by the other runes is overpowering its ability to create the illusion, so it defaults to something that's easy to make and consumes the excess energy. Black smoke, for example..." Orzel nodded, and Luna was unsurprised to see her familiar appear on her shoulder, holding a small leather notebook. The girl quickly took the book, as well as a pen that served as a sort of bookmark, before feverishly committing everything Piercing had just said to paper.

"Was that rumble we felt earlier for this?" Piercing asked, jerking his thumb towards the castle. Orzel nodded, still jotting down what he'd said so far, the man smiled again. "The problem with the illusion generator is that you put way too much power into your final bonding incantation..." The man looked at Luna as Orzel finished taking her notes, at which point she handed the book to her familiar, who whisked it away with a puff of black vapor. "Other than the illusion generator? It's solid enchanting work, there's plenty of safety enchantments.. I actually wouldn't mind having one of my own." Orzel's eyes brightened again... Luna wondered if maybe this was Piercing trying to get in on the girl's good side, but she trusted that the man wouldn't risk her daughter's safety for that.

"Okay... Fine. You can use it tonight, but if you are going to use it in the future, you will have a curfew of no later than seven in the evening, and you must not go faster than forty miles per hour... Deal?" Luna's tone offered no room for negotiation, and despite the stoic facade there just the slightest hint of hesitation in her daughter's posture. "The curfew will be waived you are attending prayer services, or going the library, or for some other function, but only if you ask permission first..." The woman added, and after a few more moments Orzel reluctantly nodded.

"I accept..." She looked at the broom in what, for Orzel, was one of great excitement. Luna couldn't help a smile at that, but there was little time remaining for further discussion.

"Right then..." The Princess declared, clearing her throat. "I shall see you upon my return, my love." Piercing grinned back and offered a friendly wave, only for Luna to lean out of the carriage and plant a kiss square on his lips. Leaving the man slightly surprised, there was little more reason to hang about the Castle. "Let us be off, guardsmen."

The Lunar Marines mounted the carriage and started the horses trotting forwards, propelling the carriage along the ground for a short while before ultimately taking to the sky, utilizing a mechanism not so different from Orzel's broom in its general function. The journey to Ponyville by flying carriage would take considerably less time than it would by train... Still, it was more than enough time to ponder the great many new worries that'd been heaped onto Luna's plate in the past few minutes.

She'd tried to keep Orzel from getting an automobile, or a motorcycle, or anything of the like... In so doing she'd forced her daughter to be creative. That was good, in that she was pleased to see Orzel's creativity stimulated, but at a future cost of always having to be exceptionally specific... Again, what worried her most, more than the idea of her daughter moving around on her own, was what it all represented.

At her current rate of knowledge absorption, odds were Orzel would be pestering Luna any day now for permission to take the Home Education Battery. It was essentially what the name said on the tin, a battery of questions to determine whether someone that'd been educated at home met the standards of someone that'd attended the public school system. Normally the HEB was taken when a child came of age, but it could be taken earlier with a parent's permission. Once Orzel passed it, she'd be issued a diploma from the EEA, and from there be eligible for university education. With skill like Luna had just seen, and a staggering level of raw arcane power, there was no mage's college in the world that wouldn't accept the aspirant enchantress.

There stood a good chance Orzel wouldn't run off right away, she still had work she'd want to complete at home, or near it at any rate. Tonight wasn't the time for such concerns, and the woman did her best to keep them out of her mind. In twenty minutes or so they'd be nearing the outskirts of Ponyville, Orzel would take her broom ahead then, and Luna would be all on her own. Hopefully her worried state wouldn't make her come off as overly intense or too standoff-ish among the people of Ponyville...

Trudging along through Ponyville's busy streets, hauling over his shoulder a bag of apples, Spike could to little more than sigh with mild annoyance. Manual labor wasn't exactly what he had in mind when he'd agreed to help set up some of the Nightmare Night games. Big Macintosh was busy, and Applejack needed someone with considerable upper body strength to help her carry the goods into town, so naturally all eyes turned to Spike. Odds were she could've done the work herself, but Spike wasn't about to raise the pressing issue of his hidden schedule with the Element of Honesty... The less anyone knew about just whom it was that was coming to visit Ponyville the better.

Looking ahead at the gathering merrymakers, it was hard for Spike to maintain any sort of dour mood for very long. Excitement abounded through the thoroughly turned out town, and the laughter of countless people had a funny way of making everything just seem... Better. It was a brisk autumn night, with temperatures dipping closer now to winter norms than summer. Spike was fortunate enough to be a dragon, the presence of his inner flame made it easier for him to soak in the atmosphere without undue chill. Indeed, there was much to absorb, both in the festivities and the night itself.

As with so many nights lately, the sky above was particularly striking... His best estimates put the change in the night sky at roughly about the time Twilight had gone off to fight Discord, but as he was coming to realize, Discord was a subject on which she was exceptionally tight lipped. She insisted it was best he not know, that she'd been sworn to secrecy by Princess Celestia herself, and even telling him that much was pushing things... Perhaps it was something he'd need to ask Orzel about? No... Best wait, given how new their friendship was she'd think he was trying to get secrets out of her. Technically accurate, but he wasn't entirely sure how Orzel felt about technicalities yet.

Setting the sack down beside the apple bobbing tub, Spike wiped some of the sweat from his forehead. Nearby he could hear someone had put on a radio, adding the sound of an up tempo swing band to the ongoing festival. Every now and then someone would need to clear out of the nearby road, making room for an old tractor that'd been brought back into service for the purpose of providing hay rides. Kids scampered about in costumes, carrying sacks of sweets and giggling. Spike just about had a heart attack when one group of kids pushed passed him, rushing out into the street, skidding to a stop just as a pick up truck slowly trundled past.

If their near miss with a traffic accident had the same affect on the kids as it did on Spike, it certainly didn't show. Off into the night they ran, laughing up a storm whilst Spike's heart slowly stopped trying to burst out of his chest. The sooner he got out of here, away from all the noise and calamity, the better. Sighing heavily, the boy glanced down at his slightly ruffled clothes. It was a good thing he'd waited to put on his costume, as he suspected the nature of the garment would not only have made the trip from Sweet Apple Acres difficult, but also likely lead to its partial destruction...

Originally he'd thought about doing something ironic, coming to the festival in a dragon costume, but... The Princess was coming, and he wanted to make another good impression. Lately he'd found it hard not to think about the girl, just as had been the case with Rarity... Ironically, it was with a healthy helping of needlework from Rarity that Spike's costume had come together. He'd ultimately decided on a 'Commodore' from Equestria's age of sail. It helped that Spike thought the get-up actually made him look fairly handsome, downright heroic even... Not that that was important, or anything... The boy cast a few quick glances in either direction, inwardly worried someone might somehow be listening to his inner thoughts.

Putting his hands on his hips, turned his attention to Applejack herself. The woman was in the process of speaking with some other festival goers, attired as a scarecrow, not that bad of a look as a matter of fact. Much like Orzel, Spike couldn't help finding some sort of faint draconic beauty in the blonde haired farmer's athleticism. The boy quickly shook his head, he hardly had the time to get distracted by that sort of thing. Blowing some air out his nostrils, he took a moment to glance at his watch, unable to keep from tapping his foot out of nervousness. Inching a little closer, one small step at a time, Spike couldn't help overhearing the conversation...

"Snow'll be comin' soon, and we can thank Faust for it. Should kill any bugs dead, give us some time to start cleaning up the town proper." One of the men, a pegasus that simply wore farmer's clothes, stated with his thumbs hooked in his belt loops. "Damn lucky we made it past the final harvest 'fore that chocolate rain came in. I reckon them Ministry of Agri boys are gonna be mighty busy, gotta make winter count while the bugs is layin' low. Might have to look to subsidies if they can't get it done in time."

"The Missus and I ain't fixin' to let the government anywhere near us if we can help it. It'll be a bitch of a winter, but I'd rather do the job myself." Another farmer countered skeptically, puffing faintly on an old wooden pipe. "I mean, who wants to risk one of those overpaid weasels finding somethin' while he's workin'? What if they find gold, or oil? Then they kick us off the land for a pittance, then keep it for themselves. We seen how them folks in Canterlot act, they's as shifty as they come. Last thing we need is some pencil pusher from Canterlot, who don't know nothin' about how we do things, comin' down here and kickin' us off our own GD property!"

Spike didn't really pay attention after that, this was gonna be one of those conversations. As with so many things to do with Equestria's politics, the boy cared very little for specific causes. He understood the sentiment of those that did, and would remain content so long as they left him out of it. He highly doubted the government would do something like come in and pull someone's land out from under them, it'd surely make all the papers... Surely. Thankfully it didn't take Applejack long to to notice Spike's presence, or his apparent lack of interest in the discussion. She acknowledged him with a small smile, turning her attention fully to him as the conversation reached a lull.

"You got everything here in one piece, sugarcube?" The woman asked cheerfully, Spike gave a quick thumbs up, nervously looking at his watch, then glancing in the direction of the library. "What's up, hon? Not keen to hang out with ol' AJ a spell, or have ya got a hot date?" The woman asked jokingly, if only she knew how close she'd come. Granted, tonight's visit wasn't a date per se, but... Spike inwardly shook himself. "I'm only kiddin', you've done a fine job. Run along now, I figure you've still got time to grab something from Sugarcube Corner before the mayor gathers all the other kiddos together for that story thing."

"Don't you think I'm a little old for that sort of stuff?" Spike asked rhetorically, taking a moment to straighten his hooded sweatshirt. AJ merely smiled at him, as if she found his question the most adorable thing she'd ever heard. The boy opted not to stick around any longer, lest he risk getting roped into another task. "Alright, I've gotta get changed. I'll see ya around."

Without any further pause, Spike took off towards the library, navigating through the costumed crowd as best he could. Carefully he crossed the street, passing by several houses decorated in various spooky fashions. Jack-o'-lanterns, cobwebs, fake tombstones and paper skeletons abounded. Some had their lights on, others were entirely dark, their occupants likely out and about among the merrymakers.

Eventually Spike made his way through downtown, passing numerous businesses of varying sorts, each in the process of giving out treats. From the Stationary/Furniture shop to the general store, there wasn't a place that wasn't thrumming with people. The area wasn't nearly as well decorated, and he could see that what pieces of ornamentation were strategically placed. None risked concealing the various advertising posters in various store windows, or painted as murals on nearby walls. Some were themed after the holiday, others not so much...

The one that stuck out to him the most was mounted in the window of a rather unassuming structure, the only building not currently overwhelmed with people. The poster depicted a warship on fire, as well as an empty fire fighter's uniform and a discarded fire-hose. It asked a simple question in bold white lettering, 'What's missing from this picture?'. It was the newest poster Spike had seen in that particular building, which made sense, seeing as that was Ponyville's local recruiting office. It catered to the various branches of Equestria's military, not just the Navy, but that was the only one Spike cared about.

He'd thought about the Lunar Marines, or maybe the Army, but not nearly as much as the Navy. It wasn't like there was much for him to do in Ponyville, and the more he read of adventure, the more he pondered actually going in there and signing up. What was more, as far as he understood it, the Navy seemed a perfect place for someone like him to go to express himself more freely. A rough and tumble place, where he wouldn't need to keep so tight a rein on his more aggressive tendencies. Other posters explained that women loved a man in uniform, and while that wasn't a deciding factor, it certainly added to the appeal. At the very least, it'd be a chance to get some job experience other than shelving books. Being a librarian was Twilight's dream job, not his... The more Spike thought about it, he didn't really have much of a 'dream job'.

Of course, all his pondering on whether he should or shouldn't sign up didn't matter. He wasn't old enough yet. His fast approaching seventeenth birthday would present him a chance, even if he'd need to get Twilight's written permission first. Odds were she'd say 'No', that he was 'too young' and it was 'too dangerous'... Spike sighed, tucking his hands into his sweatshirt pockets. Perhaps he was just over thinking things, but as with so many things, it felt like there was little for him to do but think. Maybe he'd talk to Orzel about it.

The library came into view after another couple blocks of walking, all the windows lit up... Including the one at his room. It struck him as odd, seeing as he was pretty sure he'd turned the light off, but... Maybe he was mistaken? There were far less people in this section of town, and the decorations were likewise less pronounced. It didn't really matter, in an hour or so he and his friends would sit down with Twilight to a game of Ogres and Oubliettes, allowing the troublesome goings on of the outside world to fade into the background.

As he came within twenty yards of the building, Spike became acutely aware of two men he hadn't spotted before. Both of them were attired as the grim reaper, their faces concealed beneath the dark shadow of their hoods, their massive hands clutching a pair of razor sharp scythes. Both stood silently, unmoving, unflinching, flanking either side of the library's entrance. To anyone else, they'd maybe look like exceptionally realistic Nightmare Night decorations. They were far more terrifying to Spike, considering certain feelings he had regarding a certain Princess.

Agents Grim and Fable, Princess Orzel's personal bodyguards, were in a word... Enormous. The sheer size of each man was hard to overstate. This was the closest Spike had ever gotten to them before. Orzel had assured him when last they spoke that the men weren't there to make trouble, merely to keep her safe. What unnerved Spike most of all was that both men had just manifested themselves out of nowhere, one moment they weren't there, then they were. He could see both were facing straight ahead by the time he reached the door, standing perfectly at attention.

Up close Spike determined that despite the sun having gone down some time ago, both wore mirrored aviator sunglasses. Even with their eyes concealed behind the lenses of those glasses, he nonetheless felt the gaze of both behemoths boring into him. Coming to a stop, the boy rubbed nervously at the back of his neck.

"Uh... I live here, can I go inside?" Spike asked cautiously, for fear of being picked up and broken in half. He received nothing but the barest of nods, simultaneously given by both of the twin titans.

They hadn't been there when he left half an hour ago, so Spike took that to mean Orzel would be arriving soon. Maybe that was why the light in his window was on... Had they searched his room? Probably not, he was just being paranoid. Opening the door, Spike stepped into the library proper and rolled his shoulders. The lights were low, but it seemed Twilight was already in the process of setting up the game table for that night's special session of Ogres and Oubliettes. The woman herself was nowhere to be seen, likely in the kitchen preparing snacks.

Spike paused, noting the presence of a pointed witches hat and a red scarf hanging on a hat rack. He'd never seen either item before, but they looked like decorations. The sound of the closing front door evidently drew the attention of Twilight, who peeked her head out from the kitchen. She was more or less in her full costume, though it seemed she'd forgone the beard for the moment, as well as having donned a pink apron.

"Hey, Twi!" Greeted Spike, walking into the library proper and taking a moment to examine the game table. "Nice hat, by the way, its pretty spooky..." The boy gestured at the hate for a moment, only for Twilight to shake her head, smiling serenely as she stepped fully into the doorway. She was wearing pink baking mitts in addition to her apron, and held a glass baking pan, filled with what looked to be marshmallow crispy rice treats... They smelled quite delicious.

"Oh, no, that's Princess Orzel's." Twilight explained, stepping back into the kitchen with the baking pan. Spike furrowed his brow, looking at the hat, then noted a distinct lack of any Princesses presently present in the room. Rubbing at the back of his neck, he moved towards the kitchen and peeked in there... Nope, no Princesses, just Twilight and a vast array of various Nightmare Night themed snacks. Sensing the boy's confusion, Twilight adopted another smile. "I told her she could wait in your room for you while you were out. Speaking of, I thought I told you to clean it up before you left!"

Spike felt every scrap of color drain away from his face, and he was unable to hide a growing look of mortification. His room had been left in such a state that it very well could've been declared a disaster area, one of the many reasons he preferred to turn the lights off in his room. Now he was reaping the fruits of inaction, because a Princess had not only seen that disaster area, she was evidently sitting in it as he and Twilight spoke.

"I would've done it myself, but my hands were a tad full. Don't worry, she said she didn't mind tidying it up while you were out..." Twilight trailed off, likely because Spike's eyes had at that point bulged to the size of dinner plates. "Don't give me that look, you wouldn't be having this problem if you'd cleaned it up like I asked you to." The boy sighed tensely, bringing his hand to his forehead and dragging his palm down along his face.

Without another word, Spike walked out of the kitchen, shoulders slumping as he moved through the library and up the steps, only to come to a halt at the door to his room. Peering inside, his complexion somehow became far more ashen when, much to his horror, he found all was not as it should've been in his fortress of solitude. Where once his room had been a haven of dirty laundry, garbage, dirty dishes and cups, now everything was... Unnervingly clean.

His unopened model kits were organized according to size, as were his pencils and paint brushes. The paints themselves were arranged according to color gradient, almost like they would've looked on the model store shelf. Every important piece of paper that'd been on his desk, whether it was to do with home school work, letters, or just random notes, was neatly ordered in a series of manilla folders that Spike didn't recall owning. The garbage bin was devoid of any trash whatsoever, most notably the mountain of crumpled up failed drafts of his first letter to the Princess. Even the posters and shelves on his walls looked just a little different, as if someone had gone ahead and straightened them with a level or some such.

Gone were the piles of laundry that'd once concealed the hardwood flooring, Spike didn't even remember having hardwood flooring to begin with. The clothes now found themselves in a large hamper, yet another item he didn't remember owning. Additionally, the lumpy pile of pillows and blankets that'd once sat precariously atop his bed was gone, replaced by a proper setup, whose corners were pulled exceptionally tightly. It was upon that freshly made bed that he found the culprit for this most he wanton act of cleanliness.

Princess Orzel sat daintily on the edge of his bed, her eyes set firmly upon the pages of a book, the title of which, 'Conflict and Conciliation', was written in draconic. Her witch's costume looked to be hand made, and included an incongruous headscarf like that she'd worn to the gala... This one was of a solid black coloration, and seemed to bulge slightly out at either side. The reasoning for this discrepancy was unclear, but the fabric nonetheless accented her bronze skin tone quite well. She had a satchel bag resting on the bed beside her as well, filled with what looked to be half a dozen other books. Utterly gobsmacked both by her appearance and the changes to his room, Spike struggled to find words, until finally he could do nothing more than blurt out the first thing that came to mind.

"Y-You actually cleaned my room?!" He finally uttered, gripping his head with both hands as he inwardly cringed. Even now, Spike's eyes settled on a broom that seemed to be moving of its own volition, sweeping a pile of dust and crumbs into a waiting dustpan. The Princess behind it all lifted her eyes from the book at his question, then closed it and set it gently on the bed beside the satchel. The girl's eyes were also brighter than Spike remembered, and she'd since grown a pair of sharply tapered fangs, as if she couldn't be any prettier.

"You would have preferred I wait for you to do it upon your return?" The Princess asked in that iteration of flat monotone that Spike now recognized as genuine confusion, tilting her head ever so slightly to the side. "It was little trouble. Friends help one another, yes?" She added innocently, only for Spike to sigh with exasperation.

Twilight's words about not having cleaned the room himself came to mind, he supposed a portion of the blame fell on him. Still, there was something utterly bizarre at the knowledge that a member of the royal family, the future sovereign of his country, had seen and felt compelled to clean his room... With that surreal realization, the boy strolled across the room, unzipping his hooded sweatshirt and taking a seat at his desk. He swiveled around so he was looking at the Princess, who was staring at him with those magnificent almond shaped emerald eyes.

"Don't you think it's kinda weird for a Princess to clean someone else's room?" Spike asked bluntly, Orzel rubbed her chin, then shook her head. "Really? So if I came to Canterlot Castle and cleaned your room, you'd be fine with that?" The girl looked at the floor, biting her lower lip ever so slightly, ultimately responding with a meager nod.

"Yes. You are my friend, I trust you, therefore I would find no fault. Though, you would have no need to clean my room." The Princess explained with simplest honesty. "I was told I had less than half an hour, hardly enough time to properly clean the floors." The Princess explained simply, looking at the broom and the dustpan. "I would have scrubbed the floor, had I another half hour." Spike barely restrained himself from bringing his palm to his face, but the Princess merely whistled softly. The broom leapt up from the floor and hovered through the door, out of the room. Meanwhile, the Princess leaned down and picked up the dust pan.

"As I said, you are my friend. I am told friends help one another, regardless of if one of them is a Princess or not." Orzel's earnestness took Spike by surprise. With her eyes set on the dust pan, the Princess mumbled something in her native Szafirian. To Spike's slight curiosity, the pan and its contents quickly vanished in a flash of emerald light, at which point Orzel rubbed her hands together. "Friends also do not let other friends sleep in toxic waste dumps." Her last statement was punctuated by just the slightest upward inflection, Spike therefore deduced she was attempting to lighten the mood with a joke.

"Okay, I get it, I'm a slob..." Spike stated with faux annoyance, leaning back in his chair and stretching his arms out to the side. "I guess I'm just a bit embarrassed, I wanted to make a good impression." Orzel nodded faintly, folding her hands into her lap. "Anyway..." Spike sniffed the air, at which point he became aware that even the familiar funk that he'd come so accustomed to was gone, replaced by that strange fragrant aromatic perfume that'd scented Orzel's letters to him. "Did you make your costume for the game tonight?" Orzel cast a glance down at herself as Spike took in the whole costume, from her head to her feet. For a few moments the Princess couldn't meet his eyes, and the silence that settled over the room was deafening. Was she... Blushing?

"Oh, no, it is just for the holiday... Do you like it?" Orzel mumbled timidly, which struck Spike as just about as peculiar as her presence in his room to begin with. It lacked that particular monotone he'd become so accustomed to, and bordered on actual human emotion. She abruptly turned her attention to Spike's desk, where spike found the only thing that seemed in its proper place, a model of an SB-71 Citadel, which he was still in the process of weathering. "How do you accomplish the effect of paint chipping?" She leaned forward, gesturing to one of the areas of chipped paint on the wing.

"Uh... Salt." Spike stated simply, earning him a raised eyebrow. "First I do the base coat, then I let it dry... Then I moisten the area I want to chip and sprinkle some salt on there. Not too wet that it dissolves, just enough that it sticks. After that I paint over it, then I wait a day for it to fully set. When it's done I come in with a toothbrush and get rid of the salt, and that leaves it looking chipped." Spike flinched slightly when a small black mouse materialized on the bed beside Orzel, holding in its paws a leather notebook. The Princess quickly picked up the book and a pen from within, apparently jotting down everything Spike had just said.

"Never fear, this is my familiar, Midnight." Orzel stated simply, not taking her eyes away from the page as she continued writing. "Say hello, Midnight." The mouse stared at Spike intensely, far more intensely than a mouse had any right to stare. Its faintly glowing golden eyes managed to convey a simple idea, that it'd been watching him even when he couldn't see it... After a few tense moments it waved one of its little paws, but the boy got the feeling it wasn't a genuine greeting. The mouse narrowed its eyes at Spike, then, to add to the continuing surreality of the evening, made an 'I've got my eyes on you' gesture. "Will you help me review my 'character sheet' before the game? I am sure I read everything properly, but I want to get your opinion." Spike tore his eyes away from the mouse, settling them back on the Princess.

"Of course, I'd be happy to take a look, my Lady." The boy offered courteously, for some reason hoping to make a better impression on the familiar. Once again, Spike noticed the Princess's cheeks became slightly flushed. The familiar meanwhile stared at him, then watched Orzel finish with her notations. She offered the notebook back to the mouse, who took it and vanished in a puff of black vapor.

The girl reached into her satchel and withdrew a series of papers, as well as a small metal container, which rattled with the unmistakable sound of dice. Orzel offered him the papers, then opened the metal container to reveal not only a small collection of dice, but a miniature figurine as well. Spike took a brief look at the sheets he'd been provided, which as Orzel had said seemed completed well within Twilight's parameters for the game. The figurine looked to have been produced with considerable care, though the paint seemed a little heavy in some areas.

What stuck out immediately regarding the Princess's sheet was her chosen class, a female rogue by the name of 'Medlanka Jaeger'. The Princess had used the 'Ex-Military' background, from one of the O&O expansion books on Twilight's list of approved sources. To date, Spike hadn't seen that particular background get much playtime in his group. As with most rangers, the character was exceptionally well equipped for the stealth, specializing in assassination and making use of a longbow. She'd also taken a few special abilities that granted her additional bow accuracy and the option to pick one basic 'Free Spell'. She'd taken a spell called 'Terra Sculptor', another item Spike couldn't recall ever encountering before.

Going by the stats Orzel had rolled, as well as the way she'd built her character, Spike deduced the Princess to be a bit of a 'min-max'-er. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing on its own, of course... Still, Spike would've hoped she'd just focus on making a character that was fun to play considering this was her first game. While he'd yet to see her play, Spike had to wonder just how her character would interact with the rest of the party. Oddly, under the character's alignment, she'd selected 'Lawful Good'... Yet another first, most of the rogues he'd encountered topped out at 'Chaotic Neutral' at best and 'Chaotic Evil' at worst.

"So, what's the deal with the alignment? How can she be an Lawful Good character if she's an assassin rogue?" Spike asked curiously, setting the papers on his desk. Orzel reached into her bag and withdrew another leather notebook, slightly smaller than the one she'd summoned via her familiar earlier. Flipping to the first page, the Princess cleared her throat.

"Well, Medlanka only uses her skills to help people, and, other than killing people, she more or less tries to follow the law." Orzel explained simply as Spike took another look at the Princess's miniature. Again, it was done in remarkable detail, from the character's hood, to her cloak, to her basic clothing. Spike couldn't help but smile as he realized the Princess had painted the miniature's clothes in a camouflage pattern, much like those he himself had picked up recently. "Therefore she does good and generally follows the law... Is that not how alignment works?"

"To be honest, no one really knows how alignment works..." Spike admitted with a shrug, straightening the various pages of the Princess's character sheet and handing them back to their rightful owner. "Other than that, I think it looks just about fine." Orzel hummed thoughtfully, tucking her sheet back into the satchel.

"Spike!" Twilight suddenly called from downstairs. "Come on down, everyone else is here! We're about ready to get started!" Orzel chuckled faintly, then rose from his seat and opened his desk drawer. Its contents were neatly organized, as with everything else, including his own character sheet and dice box. Grabbing both items, he and Orzel made their way to the door, only for the boy to stop abruptly and stand aside.

"After you, my Lady..." The boy offered, again he saw the Princess blush, and to his amazement the girl adopted a demure posture as she made her way out. "Please, let Twilight know I'll be down in a minute, I just need to get into my costume." Orzel nodded at his request, once again unable to meet the boy's eyes.

With that, Spike closed the door to his room and moved to the edge of his bed. As he had little in the way of space, he stored not only his treasured belongings underneath, but also his clothes as well. Changing into the Commodore outfit would take him some time, as Rarity had sewn it to be historically accurate, and that presented him with a brief period to reflect upon the events of the previous fifteen minutes or so. A Princess had cleaned his room, she'd asked him for advice on paint chipping and character sheets, but... There was more to it than that.

Spike couldn't ignore one simple fact, that fact being that Orzel had a habit of becoming the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. It happened every time she blushed, or couldn't meet his eyes, or any combination of the two... Part of him thought perhaps he was reading too much into things, that he was picking up on signals that weren't actually there. She was a Princess, he was a schlub from Ponyville, it was hard to imagine her going for a guy like him.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized that he actually might've felt better if he was just imagining things, because he if wasn't... If the Princess did share the feelings he felt... He had no idea as to what the heck he'd do at that point. With Rarity there'd always been some part of him deep down that knew it'd never get anywhere... Only now, presented with the possibility that someone he had a crush on actually might have a crush on him back, did Spike realize the immensely dangerous waters he was straying into. What if he told her how he felt? What if she told him she felt the same way? He'd never actually thought that far ahead...

"I need to talk to Big Mac..." Spike resolved to himself as he finished fastening the golden buttons of his blue frock coat, pausing for a moment to examine himself in a mirror mounted to his wall. The dangling epaulets clinked against one another with every move he made, according to Rarity they'd been the most difficult thing to replicate. In addition to the coat he wore a white buttoned shirt, blue trousers, polished leather boots and a sabre belt, sans sabre. To top it all off, he donned an onyx 'cocked hat', a strange sort of 'bi-corn'. This was adorned with the rank insignia of a Commodore, which quite nicely completed the ensemble.

Rubbing at his chin, Spike felt a rough crop of stubble coming in, giving him just the faintest look of five o'clock shadow. If anything, it added to the image of a rugged Naval officer, even if his boyish face didn't quite live up to the paintings of real life Commodores he'd drawn inspiration from. Overall, Spike determined that in the grand scheme of things he looked just about as rugged and handsome as he could get, short of getting a couple battle scars or an eye-patch. Casting a look at the door, Spike supposed he had little choice now but to go downstairs and join the game group. Hopefully the costume would better endear him to the Princess... There was nothing left to do but try.

There was no way for Piercing Gaze to hide a profound sense of woe for the loss of life's simplest pleasure, that thing which so many long to regain, that they do not cherish until it is ripped away from them. Ignorance... For Piercing, the memory of his own ignorance was forever fleeting, and the sting of its loss was made harsher with his realization of the ease with which he'd given it up. Tonight was Nightmare Night, and all throughout Equestria, the blissfully ignorant citizenry carried on in celebration... Handing out treats, going to parties, telling 'scary' stories, all in good fun. It was hoped that they would never learn the true nature of their world, for if they did, they would recoil in such disgust and horror that the word 'celebration' would never again be uttered by humankind.

It was a fact that Piercing had known for quite some time, a bitter truth that he could never hope to deny. The world inhabited by everyone he loved was in a perpetual state of jeopardy, more often than not existing a hairs breadth away from utter annihilation, the true extent of which could scarcely be put into words. To the outside world the Nocturne Agency was just another intelligence agency, but to those in the know, it was anything but... They existed to bear the knowledge of the unbearable, to gaze long into the abyss, for the sake of all mankind. Now, as Piercing followed Director Orcus through the darkened halls of the Nocturne Agency's Headquarters, he was reminded of just how difficult the job of policing the strange, weird, and unusual could be.

A thousand years ago, the Agency had been limited to just him, Luna, and Orcus. Three people of considerable skill and ability, taking it upon themselves to shield Equestria first from rogue wizards, then moving on to protect the world from factors of a sort no mortal mind should ever be forced to confront. What fools they'd been, to think they could ever hope to scratch the surface of the morbid and macabre realm of the occult. Now the Agency was larger than Piercing could've ever dreamed, but even with a seemingly boundless budget and thousands of hard working agents, the world was no closer to safety than it'd been a thousand years ago.

"Read this..." Orcus stated firmly, passing Piercing a manilla folder as the two of them made their way into a waiting elevator. Piercing did as instructed, opening the folder to the first page. There were four small photographs affixed there via paperclip, two depicted frightening chitinous monsters, one was evidently an autopsy photograph of a dead woman, and the fourth depicted a familiar teenaged girl. "Forget the pictures, turn to page two." Piercing hesitated for but a moment, then turned to the next page. Orcus meanwhile pressed a button on the elevator control panel, prompting it to start a gradual descent downwards.

The second page described in detail the autopsy of the two chitinous monsters, termed 'Exo-Changelings' in the official report. There was much on their physical characteristics, including tests of their chitin against various types of weapons. While it would prove a potent defense against the weapons of the Early Equestrian era, modern firearms seemed more than adequate for penetration. It was all jumbled in with about half a dozen paragraphs of technical jargon and other notations that said a lot, but conveyed nothing. What caught Piercing's eye was a section at the bottom, labeled 'addendum' by the Agency pathologist responsible for overseeing the storage of the remains.

"Oh, well I can see your cause for concern..." Piercing muttered, looking up from the page. The elevator rumbled faintly, its lights flickering as it passed deeper and deeper. Wafting wisps of smoke arose from Orcus' omnipresent cigarette, collecting lazily below the ceiling lamp. "When did it start?" The Director lifted his arm, pushing back the sleeve of his suit jacket and revealing a gold watch affixed to his wrist. Piercing was dressed almost identically to the Director, his own black suit having been tailored to fit his stocky frame some days ago. It seemed more appropriate than what he'd been wearing before, especially now.

"First indications began approximately six hours ago." Orcus declared simply, lowering his arm and taking a drag on his cigarette. "The boys in astronomy say it has to do with the gravitational influences of the moon, or some passing comet, or half a dozen other things..." Piercing pondered the initial 'Moon' theory, it was certainly possible that the presence of a stronger gravitational pull could have an effect, especially considering the high level of arcane material situated below Canterlot proper. "The cause is irrelevant, your primary concern for the moment is in regards to how this phenomenon may relate to the tear in the arcane barrier... I want to know if we're at risk of more of these things coming through."

The elevator came to a stop, the door chiming softly as it slowly clattered open. Before the two men lay a darkly lit hallway, far less well appointed than the upper floors. Bleak white walls, flickering fluorescent lights, and dull brown floor tiling gave the impression of a meatpacking plant or slaughterhouse... Not that far off, considering this was the Nocturne Agency's private morgue. Stepping out of the elevator, Piercing was abruptly stopped by Orcus, who faced him and took a moment to straighten the scolar's lapels. In the process he produced a small laminated badge from his pocket, which he affixed to Piercing's suit by way of a small metal clip. The bad had Piercing's photograph, as well as a series of details regarding his security clearance...

"I almost forgot..." Orcus muttered, patting his comrade on the shoulders. "The guards would shoot you if you tried to go any further without that." While the Director likely intended to come off as joking, Piercing got the impression that he was anything but completely serious. "Welcome back to the Agency, Sub-Director." Piercing nodded quietly, and with that the two of them started back down the hallway.

The newly minted Sub-Director soon detected a sound that sent chills down his spine, one that he was a hauntingly familiar with from several previous escapades with the Agency. Animalistic howls and thrashing metal, echoing off the cavernous walls, shaking him to his very core. One never truly forgot the sounds made by the undead, the wretched screaming and snapping of ravenous jaws. Together Piercing and Orcus approached the only set of doors in sight, which at present was guarded by a pair of Lunar Marines, each armed with pump action shotguns.

Even in the early days of the Agency, the blunderbuss had been a most potent weapon against the undead. Shotguns, the modern equivalent, were likely to have an even greater effect. The weapons, coupled with the shrieking howls and the very nature of the place he now tread within, gave further credence to support those words scrawled hastily in the file. 'Time approx. 13:25 Hours: Subject reanimated.'.

The two marines examined both the Director and Sub-Director's badges, then pushed the doors open, allowing both the Director and Piercing passage into the morgue. Now the sound of howling was joined by the snapping of vicious teeth and the splattering something upon the floor, immediately conjuring to Piercing's mind all the disgusting remnants that might've been spilling out of whatever lay within.

Turning a slight corner, they first came upon a wall lined with polished chrome doors, each approximately two feet wide and one foot high. Some were closed with padlocks, others appeared enchanted and sealed with wax. The names and dates of death were listed on little paper placards, but Piercing hardly had the time to examine them in detail. At the other side of the room was a laboratory counter, undoubtedly a place for the conduction of various medical tests. It was lined with numerous beakers and test tubes of different colored liquids, some of which glowed faintly in the pale fluorescent tubes overhead.

At center of it all were two examination tables, and it was upon one of these tables that the source of the noise was made apparent. A quartet of four Lunar Marines loomed in the shadows at the edge of the room, each armed with a shotgun, while a short blonde spell-caster in a lab coat silently observed one black chitinous form... A Exo-Changeling. It was strapped down in its entirety, though the thick leather restraints struggled to keep it from thrashing about. Its jagged thrashing teeth snapped and chomped at the air, the lips snarling savagely.

Streams of viscous glowing green fluid oozed from wounds all over its body, but the floor was sloped towards the center, where a drain waited to collect the foul ichor... The room itself wreaked of formaldehyde and other chemicals, which almost was enough to conceal the foetid stench of deceased flesh. There was no other word but putrid to describe the aroma, and Piercing found himself envying the four marines, each of whom had donned gas masks. The pathologist was evidently unfazed by the stench, still silently taking notes on a clipboard as both Orcus and Piercing approached. The Director took a drag on his cigarette and nodded wordlessly towards the table, indicating that Piercing should be the one to speak. The Sub-Director took note of the pathologist's name tag, identifying her as 'Dr. Kolju'...

Closer now, Piercing could determine that she was apparently not from Equestria. The slightly swarthy complexion, coupled with a pair of slightly narrowed eyes, indicated she likely hailed from one of the islands of the South Luna Sea, but the name was common to the border area between the Eastern Dragonlands and the Griffon Empire. It didn't really matter either way, he supposed, but nonetheless the man found it interesting. The man then noted one of the creature's arms, specifically a fairly clear cut seam where more of the green ooze was emerging.

Opening the file once again, Piercing skimmed through the findings, determining that the creature's hand had been reattached post mortem. Originally severed by Sokol on the night of Orzel's arrival, it was stapled back onto the body for ease of storage and transportation. Now, the ichor oozed and bubbled from the seam with a steady rate of flow. Again, of little importance, but no less interesting. Examinations of the Exo-Changeling following its initial reanimation indicated it had no heartbeat, nor was it breathing, yet somehow it was producing that liquid in such vast quantities. It wasn't blood, at least, not any sort of blood known to modern men of science. The beast's two vast milky eyes caught sight of Piercing as he loomed over it, briefly prompting it to renew its attempts to break free. Piercing remained unfazed, closing the file and setting it on the unoccupied examination table.

"Good evening, Doctor Kolju..." Piercing greeted, earning a silent nod from the pathologist. "Could you be more specific with your concerns, Director?" Piercing asked curiously, removing his suit jacket and tie. These he also placed on the examination table, then he proceeded to roll up the sleeves of his white dress shirt. "What reason do you have to suspect our not-so-dearly departed friend here is interacting with the barrier?" The Director merely pointed to the still thrashing monster, as if that was enough... Piercing didn't blame the man. Orcus was a fine practitioner of the arcane arts, but when it came to the quirks of the Arcane Barrier, Piercing's knowledge was second to none. With the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, he reached over to a small cardboard box filled with blue latex gloves.

"I take that to assume you fear it is interacting with its kin on the other side?" Piercing asked, earning a silent nod from Orcus as the Director continued to observe from a slight distance. Pulling on his gloves with a sharp 'snap!', Piercing stepped closer to the Exo-Changeling and gripped either side of its head. It snapped and thrashed, to such an extent that the guards stepped closer, but Piercing remained unfazed. He'd made sure to place his fingers well out of biting range. "I assure you that's quite impossible, even for a Changeling from our realm. It would take a spell of a magnitude similar to that which brought this nasty bugger here in the first place."

"I keep telling the Director that there's no existing link between these things and the hive-mind, but he won't listen to me." Doctor Kolju finally spoke up, her voice possessing a distinctly Equestrian accent, further adding to the mystery of where she came from... Again, Piercing supposed it didn't matter. "In my professional opinion these convulsions are just a spasmodic response to random arcane stimuli... Certainly disturbing, but hardly a threat."

"I believe that you are partially correct." Piercing responded softly, twisting the creature's head from side to side. It resisted, of course, but Piercing was more than able to overpower it. The beast snapped and snarled with greater tenacity, flinging droplets of the glowing goo in all directions. "It hates me so much..." The man practically cooed. After a moment the man held his hand towards the sky, conjuring a small ball of blue energy... It persisted for a few seconds, fizzled out. "Just double checking. I can't feel any sort of interference in the barrier, nothing to suggest they're interacting with the hive-mind of their native realm." Piercing then snapped his fingers, sending forth a small burst of chaos magic. It was, by definition, the most random of magic there could be. The creature didn't react in the slightest, other than trying, and failing, to bite Piercing's finger. "I'm afraid, however, that I must disagree with her assertion that it's responding to random stimuli. Were that the case, my little parlor trick there would've sent the subject into a frenzied spasm."

Piercing returned his hands to either side of the creature's head, this time the creature's reactions were far less severe. Silently it watched him, leaning its head upwards, growling and snarling but otherwise refraining from resisting. Piercing had entered into a state of mind he'd not adopted for some time, that of the cold calculating researcher, and he examined this beast before him with the same scrutiny he would bestow upon a particularly interesting species of insect. He'd conducted experiments on other Changeling specimens back when they were a common threat to Equestria, nothing overly intrusive, just enough to get a better idea of what was going on inside their heads. In this instance, he decided to replicate one of those procedures.

"Are you alive...? Nod your head for yes, shake for no." He asked curiously, and after a few moments Piercing removed his hands from the creature's head. Free of his restriction, the beast did nothing but thrash about, apparently going back to its former self. "It was worth a shot..." He mumbled. "What we are witnessing is a freak occurrence, brought about by the proximity of the moon and the convergence of ley lines in this city. It is a happening of such infinitesimally small probability that I cannot hope to properly calculate it." The man removed his gloves, discarding them in a nearby bio-hazardous waste bin.

"The Doctor was actually correct, these are spasmodic convulsions, but they are not the result of random arcane stimuli. The body is reacting to a disturbance in the hive-mind. Somehow, despite his being dead... Somehow its brain is receiving signals from a hive-mind of our realm." Piercing couldn't keep himself from faintly smiling. "The signals must be exceptionally strong, something must be happening within Changeling society that is generating a considerable amount of buzz, if you'll pardon the pun..." He exhaled, staring grimly at body. "I, unfortunately, have little information to go on other than pure speculation... At least at present." Orcus circled around the table, the ember glow of his cigarette flaring slightly before he exhaled a small cloud of smoke.

"It's receiving signals, can it transmit as well? Can they use the corpse to spy on us? Are they watching us right now?" The Director's tone was cautious, Piercing took a moment to ponder the capabilities of the Exo-Changeling versus those of Changelings he'd had the fortune of studying. After a minute or two of careful contemplation, the man merely shook his head.

"Any attempt to use the subject for espionage would kill it, were it not already dead." Piercing concluded, casually moving around the table to get a better look at the creature in its entirety. "The brain is far too primitive, just evolved enough to broadcast and receive the vaguest of transmissions from its collective. If it were transmitting to the hive-mind, I suspect they would receive little more than white noise." He rubbed at his chin. "It is fascinating, I never would've thought that a hive in the badlands could be strong enough to provoke such a response from a literal corpse." Orcus' features grew troubled, and though his cigarette was still far from finished, he nonetheless withdrew a fresh one from his pocket.

"Or, it could be that their hive is far closer than we believe." Orcus countered darkly, instantly Piercing felt a chill race down his spine, he hadn't considered that. There were no Changelings living in Equestria that he knew of, even in the early days. Where their primary hive happened to be, likewise, had always remained unknown...

The largest one was generally believed to be within the Badlands, a hellish scorched wasteland that marked the border between Equestria and the Southern Dragonlands. According to some light reading he'd done in preparation of getting back to work, it was from there that the last recorded Changeling Raid had been launched, and it was to that dismal place the raiders had retired. There was a time he'd pondered perhaps that the Changeling Raiders and the Dragon Reavers might've been one in the same, a clever ruse to make it appear there were more threats than actually existed. By now, more than enough Reavers had fallen in battle to do away with that notion.

Changeling hive's were notoriously difficult to pin-point, and those few that had been discovered were remarkably well hidden. Concealed in rocky cliff areas, unexplored forests, even in the early sewer systems of several small Equestrian settlements. By now they were little more than myth, anyone claiming to have seen one would be derided as superstitious or a crackpot. They could go anywhere, do anything... Be anyone. He couldn't keep from eying the four guards in the room, each carrying a shotgun that could easily take out Orcus, Doctor Kolju, and Piercing in a matter of moments. The odds of all of them being Changelings were slim, he knew that, but it only took one.

How many people interacted with Princess Celestia and Luna on a daily basis...? Cadence? Blueblood? Orzel? Together they had to encounter hundreds of unvetted 'people'... Any single one of them potentially an assassin. Then his mind turned to the debacle that'd unfolded following his return, all the paperwork 'foul ups' and other delays. They could sew just as much chaos and confusion in low ranking logistical roles as they could in a position of power, if not more so... Piercing felt his very skin crawl, this was the exact sort of threat for which the Nocturne Agency had been founded.

Under the enormity of his realization, Piercing reached out and took the cigarette from Orcus, placing it between his lips. Orcus offered his lighter, allowing the man to take a few short puffs before he broke out into a slight coughing fit. He managed to bring it under control, and was surprised at the rush of calm that washed over him. The tobacco smoke tasted vile, and he was certain he'd catch all sorts of trouble from Luna, but he could see now why the Director made such a habit of smoking.

"I'll call Princess Celestia, she needs to be informed of this immediately. Stick around, we'll need to advise her when she arrives." Orcus' tone was calm, but it was clear he was growing more concerned with every passing moment. "You and you, secure the Elevator, no one departs the morgue without my authorization." The man pointed at two of the guards, both of whom quickly moved to comply. "As of this moment, everything we've discussed in the last half hour is officially classified." Piercing and Doctor Kolju both nodded in acceptance, and upon securing their agreement the Director made his way across the room to the laboratory counter. Among the various testing equipment was a bright red telephone, which Orcus readily picked up.

Celestia stood beside one of two cold steel slabs lined the center of the morgue, buried below the Nocturne Agency's Canterlot Headquarters. The air was heavy with the smell of rubbing alcohol, tobacco smoke, and other chemicals. The cold tile floor dotted with indiscriminate stains from autopsies long past, joined now by a continuing flow of putrid green ooze. No amount of mopping or scrubbing could evict the blotches, the last remnants of the many creatures that had come to lay in that silent and otherwise sterile temporary tomb.

Celestia observed the sole vaguely humanoid shape, for which she'd been so urgently summoned, with a growing sense of fascination and revulsion. The chitinous armor plates and leathery hide had gradually taken on a vague brownish-yellow tint, a far cry from the pitch black she'd recalled on the night of the creature's arrival. It was undoubtedly the result of the beast's preservation in pungently odorous formaldehyde, the fumes of which currently pervaded the space.

The beast's slathering jaws were arrayed with row upon row of razor sharp teeth, that were no less terrifying to gaze upon, especially given the nature of Celestia's summons to this unknown corner of Canterlot's underground. With wide slitted eyes, clouded white by death, they scanned the room unblinkingly, heedless of the blinding fluorescent lights. Two Lunar Marines stood silently at the head of the slab, each holding a shotgun at the ready. Their face's hidden beneath respirators, their black fatigues marked with Nocturne insignia. Though the creature was thoroughly secured to the table, they nonetheless watched with great scrutiny, just as one might gauge the threat of a rabid animal.

A Doctor stood quietly to one side of the slab, her posture and demeanor professional and calm, though it was obvious she had uncomfortable reservations about being there. Princess Celestia could certainly understand her discomfort, as the thrashing corpse presented on that hideous slab chilled her to her core... Given the current date, she supposed it was appropriate that such a revelation was made now.

The aroma of tobacco smoke wafted doubly strong through the morgue, and out of a gloomy alcove Celestia could see two distinct glowing embers, one belonging to Director Orcus, the other to the newly appointed Sub-Director Gaze. Stepping into the light, the both mens' features were locked in an understandable scowl of seriousness. Together they came slowly towards the table, standing beside the Doctor, whom Celestia deduced was named Kolju by the name badge the woman wore.

"Director... Sub-Director..." Celestia greeted each man cordially, surprised to see the cigarette dangling from Piercing's lips. That both disheartened and disturbed her, as she knew it took quite a lot to get Piercing rattled. Granted, an alien monster coming back to life could be rattling, but even so... Celestia's feelings towards the Director had likewise become... Complicated.

She'd known him first as her trusted friend, and then as her old enemy, Legate Orcus. He had taken up arms against Equestria, against her, and secretly inserted himself into Equestria's government for centuries... Leading the Agency, advising her as he always had, whilst she remained blissfully unaware... Yet the seriousness with which he carried himself, and the trust still bestowed upon him by both Luna and Piercing, had widely mitigated any level of betrayal Celestia might've felt... Largely because there was none. Yes, he'd kept a terrible secret, but in so doing had given her sister a gift that was as rare as it was precious... A second chance with her true love. For some reason he had summoned her, to this place, without Luna...

"What's the situation here?" Celestia asked the Director, who scowled, then nodded at Piercing. The creature, whom Celestia recognized as the one with its arm cleaved off by Sokol, jerked about on the slab with greater ferocity. Teeth gnashing, claws flailing, writhing uncontrollably like a worm atop a bed of ants. A guttering, soul rendingly clear shriek suddenly erupted from beyond its curling lips, sending flecks of glowing ooze and formaldehyde spewing forth with all the indiscriminate coverage of a garden sprinkler. Neither Piercing or Orcus flinched, though Celestia took a step back for fear of sullying her white blouse and skirt.

So she was informed of all that'd transpired in the hour or so preceding her arrival, all the speculation and study, as well as several tests conducted in the time since she'd first been contact. She was told of the great disturbance in the changeling hive that was likely at play, the odds of a Changeling hive nearby, the chances that there could, at this very moment, be infiltrators among the ranks of the armed forces and the Castle staff. The clock on the wall chimed ten times, and as the last bell came and went, the writhing mass of flesh fell eerily still. The glowing ichor ceased oozing, and a final nightmarish rattling wheeze passed those devilish fangs.

A deathly silence followed, which lasted for a moment or two before Piercing continued his report. Through it all Celestia listened carefully, staring intently at the gruesome face for herself. She still remembered the last Changeling Raid, how desperately she'd hoped to find the threat once and for all. At the time, however, Equestria had been in the midst of a lengthy drought. As a result there was little desire to launch operations into the Badlands in search of the Changelings, operations that would've consumed a lot of water rations. Now, it seemed that lack of drive was coming back to haunt her.

It was impossible to discern just what was the cause of such apparent upheaval within the hive-mind might be, there certainly weren't any changelings around for her to ask. That she knew of... On the recommendation of both Orcus and Piercing, she'd need to institute a sweep for Changeling infiltrators. A difficult enough task on its own, to be certain, but made all the harder for the simple fact that no one had seen a Changeling in several centuries. Not counting the beast on the table, of course. It was a process that would need to be carried out with utmost discretion as possible... The past two years had been filled with plenty of National Emergencies, and with the hit the Stock Market had taken in the wake of Bill 250 and the Discord Crisis, Celestia feared another such scare could do serious harm to the livelihoods of countless thousands of her people...

Given the tremendous expense involved in cleaning up the ecological contamination inflicted by Discord's 'Chocolate Rain', a sudden economic downturn could have disastrous consequences. Equestria's food reserves would last long enough for the work to be completed within two years, assuming it remained on schedule, but it could only do so if the value of the Bit remained more or less steady. The safety margin was far too narrow for Celestia's liking, and the idea that her people might suffer from food shortages at best or rampant inflation at worst was especially heart wrenching.

Of course, she needn't keep the new threat a secret for long, perhaps six months to a year. Long enough for the collective nerves of Equestria's citizenry to relax, long enough to go to the press with a cohesive plan of action, something that would assure the Equestrian populace that the situation was well in hand... If even a whiff of what was happening leaked, though... Changelings were, by their nature, creatures that sewed paranoia wherever they went. Celestia shivered at the thought, of brother turning on brother, friend turning on friend, all for fear that the other might be a shape-shifting monster? It would be a nightmare, the likes of which no one in Equestria was prepared for...

"Now I understand..." Celestia realized softly, clasping her hands behind her back. She recalled a conversation she'd had with her niece Orzel, the very first conversation in point of fact. That it was better to prepare for the unexpected than to wait for a threat to emerge... Celestia could go face to face against evil doers and powerful villains, but she couldn't be everywhere at once, she couldn't be there to assure everyone that their neighbors were still their neighbors... Without some system of cohesion, without some form of community trust, the nation would collapse.

"Nightmare Moon, the Arrival Incident, and now the Discord Incident. Had our people been more prepared... Well, hindsight is twenty-twenty." The Princess trailed off, sighing pensively while pursing her lips. There was another aspect to consider, that the crisis would actually arrive before any meaningful steps could be taken... Keeping the threat a secret might help maintain a level of calm, assuming nothing else happened, but the threat actually emerged...? The effect could be even worse. "Another Crisis Scare could dangerously disrupt the Economy, but not nearly as much as a Changeling raid." The woman quietly pinched the bridge of her nose, pondering just what to do. "I want options on my desk by noon tomorrow." She glared intensely about the room. "Otherwise, news of this revelation does not leave this room, is that clear?" The Marines, Doctor Kolju and Piercing all nodded. "Good... I trust you will inform Princess Luna, Sub-Director." Piercing nodded again, taking a drag on his cigarette.

"What of Princesses Cadence and Orzel, and Prince Blueblood?" Orcus asked tentatively, looking between the table and the Princess. "They were most displeased to be left uninformed last time, and ordered me explicitly to inform them of such things." Celestia hummed in somber contemplation, looking back at the table. Cadence could be brought into the loop, perhaps as Princess of Love she might even have some insight into what areas might be the most likely target of a Changeling raid? Blueblood was running for a seat on the Council, which had indeed been determined to be legal, if a tad unorthodox... There would be immense scrutiny upon him, best not to risk a security breach by an over eager reporter.

That left Orzel, a person whom would likely have much to say regarding Changelings, if made aware. She was certain to hold a grudge, and her studies in Enchanting, coupled with her analytical mind, might even prove helpful in devising a method of weeding out infiltrators... If properly assisted, as would likely be the case with Piercing joining her 'company'. Orzel seldom left the Castle, and though that was bound to change in the coming weeks, the risk of her accidentally revealing the threat remained low... For a moment Celestia almost nodded, but she realized the nature of this threat would be of a deeply personal nature for her Niece. Orzel's entire life had been shattered by Changelings, though she didn't know them as such. The creature laying before Celestia on the slab had been one of those that brutally killed the girl's Birth Mother right in front of her. The Princess briefly glanced at the Director, wondering for a moment just where the stalwart Shield Matron's remains had wound up, they still had yet to be returned.

Bringing Orzel into the knowledge of the threat would likely send the girl spiraling, just when she was starting to make a go of things... Could Celestia do such a thing to her niece? Perhaps more importantly, should she? The fact remained, Celestia realized, that it wasn't her place to decide what was best for Orzel. Much as she'd come to love her, Celestia wasn't Orzel's Mother, Luna was. The burden would ultimately fall to her sister, and Celestia didn't envy her sibling in that respect.

"Leave that task to the Crown, Director..." Celestia finally decided quietly, a frown tugging at her typically exuberant features. "Luna and I shall need discuss the issue first and foremost." The woman straightened silently. "Should they ask you in the meantime, by some unlikely coincidence or otherwise, instruct them to come to me." Orcus nodded wordlessly, resting the cigarette between his lips. "Have Field Marshals Redwood and Arcturus meet me in my office tomorrow, around midday, you will join them... Whatever we wind up doing, I suspect your trio shall play a large part..." The woman scowled, once again catching a whiff of the corpse. "Firstly, please, let's get away from this... Thing."

Chapter 16

In its former life, Prado Dorado AAB and Arsenal served the Equestrian Army as both a training facility for its pilots, and as a production and storage depot for various bits of equipment. Throughout its lifetime, more than five-hundred-thousand assorted small arms had been passed through the doors of its manufacturing center, as did countless crates of munitions, uniforms, helmets, belt-buckles, and anything else the Army might've needed in a pinch. The last rifle had rolled off the assembly line five years ago, the last aircraft lifted off from its runways a few days later. Since then it'd sat more or less untouched, with maintenance efforts focused solely on keeping the buildings in good repair.

According to the documents Orzel was provided by the realtor, which she'd had verified by the Defense Department, the Army had never formally demilitarized the base following its final departure... If anything, the various Armed Forces of Equestria used the base as a storage space for any excess equipment they couldn't find a use for, but didn't want to dispose of either. Once again, the Air Corps' shoestring budget indicated it'd cost too much to offload the extra gear prior to sale, and it was decided that selling off the facility with all its contents would be a far better financial decision.

As a result, the Princess had purchased not only the air base itself, but everything on it... Of course, this had entailed a series of new forms that needed signing, including a petition to have the site re-zoned as an 'Industrial Research Site'. For some reason, the Army was also requiring a thirty day waiting period, coupled with a criminal background check. Something to do with 'Security Clearance', though Orzel suspected it was a tactic concocted by her Mother to once again to sway her decision to purchase the facility. If that was the aim, however, it didn't work. As of zero-eight-hundred hours that morning, Prado Dorado passed into the ownership of the Basilisk Defense Technologies Board of Directors, and was officially renamed 'Maksym Field' by the company CEO, Princess Orzel.

It was all hers, lock, stock, and barrel... From the buildings, to the runways, heavy machinery, assorted logistical vehicles, office supplies. There was even a pair of outdated 'landships', the primitive precursor to the modern tank. These, Orzel was told, had been delivered to the base with the intention of expending them as targets for live fire exercises. There were countless other crates of 'Miscellaneous Equipment', whose paperwork had either been lost, destroyed, or simply thrown away over the past five years. Needless to say, the Princess draconic urge for material things was exceptionally pleased with the acquisition of so many new additions, and she intended to make as much use of them as she could.

Anything she couldn't find an immediate or possible future use for would be sold off... If she played her cards right, she might even manage to recoup the money she'd spent to begin with. Before she could do that, however, she had to conduct a detailed inventory of just what she had at her disposal. Not especially an easy task given the size of the site, some four-thousand acres, protected by doubled up chain link fences, spaced five feet apart and topped with barbed wire. At the center of that fenced in area were two paved runways. These converged together to form a 'T', with the longer of the two oriented North to South, and the other East to West. The runways were in turn connected by numerous taxiways and tarmac pads, and it was on this tarmac that Orzel spotted four massive aircraft hangars. A tall Air Traffic Control tower, easily two-hundred feet tall, loomed beside one of the hangars... She had yet to explore these areas.

The asphalt and concrete had obviously seen better days, and strips of grass could be seen through various cracks, snaking randomly across their surface. The grassy areas were widely overgrown, though much of that overgrowth had died off as a result of falling temperatures. In addition to the hangars, there were more than a dozen concrete and steel revetments, and it was here that she'd encountered her first 'miscellaneous items'. It appeared that the Army Air Corps had left more than trucks and crates behind...

Orzel counted four L-7 Buzzards, biplanes that'd been taken out of front line service eight years ago, though they still saw some limited service in other governmental agencies. Buzzards were remarkably sturdy, and as they'd been designed at a time where aircraft manufacturing was more a cottage industry, they made use of modified automobile engines. Thus, they tended to be exceptionally slow, at least according to what she knew of their history. Some still served in the various Territorial Air Garrisons, but their most frequent users were Forest Service and the Border Patrol...

They were easy to maintain as they didn't require specialized engine mechanics, and could land virtually anywhere, which made them ideal for operations in undeveloped areas. Were these particular Buzzards in working order, Orzel easily might've been able to make a couple thousand Bits selling each to private Air Mail services. It was easy to tell, however, that the aircraft unfortunately were nowhere near working order. As the girl stood before the fourth aircraft, clipboard in hand, she was struck by a strange sensation. The paint was long faded, the fabric skin covering the fuselage torn, and the engine was streaked with rust. One of the four had collapsed upon its landing gear, two more were still standing, but otherwise essentially total write-offs. The fourth might still be salvageable, at least as a museum piece. Orzel doubted if it'd ever fly again, but she might be able to at least make it look pretty.

It was remarkable to her, that at one time these decrepit hulks had been considered the pinnacle of engineering. Liberator Aviation, the company responsible for its production, had been so inundated with orders that they'd needed to build a new factory just to accommodate demand... It'd been the Buzzard that essentially kick-started the aviation industry in Equestria, the first reasonably priced combat aircraft that virtually anyone could fly. Now, four of the once hotly desired Buzzards sat in silent repose, deemed of such little importance that they'd been abandoned to rust away in silent obscurity.

Orzel knew they were incapable of feeling, much like Wojtek, or even the currently fitting out ESS Sokol, but... It was hard for the Princess not to imagine the betrayal she might've felt, were she in their place. Part of her felt that in spite of their in-animation, certain machines somehow possessed a 'spirit'. The girl sighed softly through her nose, quickly jotting down the tail number of the final aircraft on her inventory sheet. Striding towards the Buzzard, the girl carefully climbed up onto the wing, then peered into the cockpit. She could only imagine what it was like, to be one of the spell-casters or earth-walkers to have ridden in the pilot seat all those years ago, doing for the first time what'd long been deemed the privilege solely of the pegasi. What thrill that must've been...

Seeing that all the gauges seemed intact, the Princess hopped down onto the tarmac, then jotted a few further notes onto the paper... For a few moments she stared at the Buzzard's fuselage, then placed her hand on a section of its still intact fabric skin. The tactile feel of rough canvas was intriguing, further giving the illusion that the aircraft might've been alive. Sometimes Orzel suspected she could relate better with machinery than she could actual people... With another sigh the girl shook her head, she was allowing her mind to wander when there was work to be done, and despite the rising sun in the distance, the temperature remained at an uncomfortable thirty-five degrees.

She was fortunate to discover a crate of uniforms among the items abandoned in the barracks portion of Maksym Field, including a stash of High Altitude flight suits. Essentially they were black leather coveralls, lined with brown fur. Orzel found them to be both functional and comfortable, especially seeing as they had an abundance of pockets. She'd also donned a black leather bomber jacket, the fur lined collar of which provided her neck some much needed protection against a strong early Winter breeze. There were no gloves of a proper size, so her hands had become more or less numb from the cold, but between the suit, the jacket, and her headscarf this was perhaps the most comfortable she'd been outside since the start of Autumn.

Casting one final glance at the Buzzard, Orzel tucked her clipboard and pen into a pocket on her leg, then started walking away. She had other areas of the facility to examine... Whistling sharply, the girl held her hand out to the side as her broomstick emerged from behind one of the revetments. She snatched Piorun out of the air and climbed aboard, riding it 'side-saddle' away from the revetments.

Orzel scooted along just a few feet above the ground, passing the aircraft hangars and control tower, then a smaller fenced in area, marked with a few small pre-frabricated buildings and assorted vehicles. A sign affixed beside the lowered bar-gate identified it as the 'Motorpool', an area she'd already taken inventory of. She'd counted twenty-four five-ton supply trucks, fifteen quarter-ton general purpose vehicles, three of which had been converted to ambulances, five refueling vehicles , five firetrucks, and the two outdated landships... All of the vehicles were in at least some state of disrepair, mostly dry rotted seals and tires, but from Orzel's examination she suspected at least ninety percent of the collected vehicles could be restored to a useable state.

With the exception of the red firetrucks, all were painted some variation of olive drab. Like the Buzzards, the paint was faded with age and rust. The landships in particular were heavily encrusted and streaked with hues of red and orange. Their roofs had also hastily been marked with big red bulls-eyes, further evidence of their original purpose as targets. The bulls-eyes were barely visible now, having been applied with a particularly cheap brand of paint. Once again, Orzel felt that odd sensation of connection to the abandoned implacable war machines. As she'd done so many times before, she could only imagine what might've happened had the Empire possessed just two of those landships in Cesarski...

She had to remind herself that it was her rumination on that question that'd prompted her purchase of the facility in the first place. The work she would do there would be conducted as if the survival of everyone she loved hinged on her inventions, whatever shape those inventions might take... It took her a few minutes of gliding along on her broomstick before she arrived at the 'Arsenal' portion of Maksym Field, situated at the eastern side of the expansive complex. It was here Orzel expected to find the bulk of her workshop equipment.

Workbenches, mills, lathes, grinders, welders, cutting torches, gas forges, power hammers, hydraulic presses, and boundless piles of other machining tools. Lexicos willing, they would soon be put back to work for the better defense of Equestria. Not only in the creation of new pieces of kit, but in the development of methods to produce those new wonders, to take advantage of Equestria's immense industrial base... After all, Orzel could make the best bulletproof vest in the world, but it wouldn't be of much use if each vest had to be made by hand... It was a facet of inventing she hadn't really thought about until she'd started delving deeper into her research of Defense Technologies field.

The Arsenal itself was comprised of half a dozen long, narrow, two story concrete buildings, which sat adjacent to an absolutely massive factory. The windows were still intact, though some were obscured by dead vines of ivy that'd crept up the red brick exterior. Two massive smokestacks cast dark shadows across the brown grass, while a section of paved asphalt snaked off into what, from above, might've looked like an hilly grass field. At ground level, however, it was easy to identify more than a dozen half buried domes, covered almost entirely in grass. Each was separated from the others by a factor of fifty yards, and all possessed a flat concrete face, inset with heavy steel blast doors.

These were munition magazines, and it was in them Orzel was told she could find the majority of the 'Miscellaneous Equipment'. She'd need to examine their contents later, but didn't feel all that rushed. Unlike the vehicles, they were far better protected from the elements. The road itself ran off to join the main thoroughfare of the base, leading off to northern area comprised of half a dozen pre-fabricated barracks and a dozen small identical homes, which were in turn situated near the base's front gate. It was the first section she'd thoroughly explored on her own, where she'd discovered the crate of flight suits and jackets. Orzel brought her attention back to the factory, which loomed above her in eerie silence. She skirted along its outskirts, until finally she arrived at the factory's main entrance.

The lights inside were already on, and Orzel quickly spotted both Grim and Fable standing outside the front door. To her surprise, both of them had forgone their suits for a pair of combat fatigues. Both of them were armed with large anti-tank rifles, though they looked of normal size in the hands of the two behemoths. The rest of her sizable and heavily armed security detail was currently in the process of patrolling the surrounding area, though some utilized metal detectors, likely searching for any unexploded ordnance that might've been left buried following the base's abandonment...

The Princess brought Piorun to a stop in front of her bodyguards, then hopped off and snatched the broom from the air. Both men nodded in acknowledgment of her presence, but as per usual chose not to speak. Orzel nodded in return, carrying the broom with her in through the front door. This was the first time she'd actually gone inside, and what she found within thrilled her mechanical mind for all it was worth. Great steel support pillars rose from floor to ceiling, the entire space illuminated by faintly glowing electronic light bulbs and the clusters of square windows that ran along the length of the entire building. Dozens of heavy machines of differing sorts, each a sturdy testament to the power of Equestrian industry.

Multiple small rooms lined the walls, mostly filled with grinders and other specialized tools. A sizable gantry crane loomed directly overhead, with dozens of catwalks crisscrossing beside its tracks. Dozens steam and compressed air pipes snaked above, alongside a series of still belt drives. While most of the pipes were out of use, she none the less spotted a few pipe joints where steam was leaking... Likely from the boiler currently in use to provide electricity. Like the windows, the pipes, drives, and gantry ran all along the lengthy of the impressive structure. The portion of most immediate intrigue was a large office, constructed on an elevated platform, with windows that would allow its occupant to look out onto the factory floor. Orzel withdrew the clipboard and pen from her pocket, then ascended a set of steep metal steps that lead up to the office... Her office.

The door had been left slightly ajar, the frosted glass still retaining the name and title of its former occupant. 'Gen. D. Aught'... Which raised an new question... Had this once been the office of a man commonly referred to by many in weapon engineering circles as 'The Father of Firepower'? She'd discovered the name was included at least once in every book she'd read on weapons and armor development thus far. A remarkably talented weapon-smith and eccentric businessman, he'd died four years ago, but not before allegedly burying a quarter of his immense wealth somewhere in the mountainous territory of Evergreen County.

If it was the office of Double Aught, and he'd left behind some paperwork or design plans, it could be a very lucrative find indeed... Not just because copies of his original designs were in high demand by collectors, but because Orzel suspected he worked in very much the same fashion as she did. Orzel always included little notes to herself in the margins whenever she made designs or schematics. Sometimes it was an idea she had at the spur of the moment, others it was some fundamental design change she might want to implement in the future. If Double Aught had a similar manner of working, the Princess could very well have the opportunity to read from his notes, and incorporate them into her own designs when she was finally allowed to begin designing weapons.

Orzel wasted no further time in opening the door, the hinges squeaking loudly as it swung inwards... Within she found numerous filing cabinets, a large mahogany desk, and a tall tufted executive's leather chair which sat behind it. Orzel appreciated that whomever had last used the office took the time to straighten everything up, and though she saw a fair bit of dust on everything, it was nothing a little magic couldn't take care of. Approaching the desk, Orzel examined the fixtures that'd been left upon it. A green desk lamp, an empty ceramic ashtray, a trio of neatly aligned fountain pens, an old telephone, and a polished wooden humidor.

Immediately she recognized a series of runes scribed onto the humidor's side. If she was reading them correctly, and she was reading them correctly, they would have the effect of preserving a constant level of humidity and temperature within... Runes of such intricacy were particularly difficult to master, as they were deceptively small and required exceptional vision. Odds were this humidor would be worth upwards of one-thousand Bits on its own. If it'd been owned by Double Aught, she could expect that number to double.... Of course, that was contingent on whether or not she decided to sell it. While at present she had no use for such an item used as originally intended, it was nonetheless an object that could maintain consistent temperature and humidity. Much like an air conditioning unit, it might prove useful in maintaining the sterility of her research... Of course, if the need arose to 'butter up' someone in the political scene, odds were she could give it as a gift.

The most important aspect of the humidor wasn't in the box itself, it was on top of it. Orzel noted a set of fingerprints had disturbed the dust, and judging by the fact they hadn't been filled in with more dust, it'd been quite recently. Glancing at the rough wooden floor, she could likewise see a man's footprints in the grime. Lifting the lid, Orzel was slightly disappointed to find it empty... While she didn't care for cigarettes, she couldn't deny that the smell of a cigar had slowly gained an oddly aromatic appeal, much like frankincense and sage... Not that she'd ever dream of smoking one, in fact, Orzel was most certain her Mother would kill her if she ever so much as looked at a cigar.

The girl recalled quite well what'd happened after she and Mother arrived home on Nightmare Night, when Mother managed to detect a whiff of smoke on Piercing Gaze's breath. What'd followed had been a fit of anger the likes of which Orzel wouldn't have thought possible for anyone but a dragon. To the girl's bewilderment, Piercing offered little in the way of his own defense, only insisting that he'd explain himself later...

Setting the clipboard on the desk, the girl mumbled a short incantation. A puff of emerald green vapor suddenly manifested. Quickly taking on the form of a butterfly, it fluttered through the room. Each beat of its wings blew dust from the tops every surface into the air, then forced the cloud of swirling particulates down onto the floor. Speaking another incantation produced a spectral dustpan on the floor. Simple spoken magic had become so much easier with continuing practice, to a point she wondered how she ever got along without it. She wished that wasn't the only thing to have gotten easier...

She'd been losing quite a lot of sleep lately. It wasn't just over the start of her new business, nor was it due to her ongoing preparations for 'Operation: Firewatch', it wasn't even the Admiralty this time. Something else was wrong, and no one was telling her precisely what it was. Letting go of her broom, the Princess allowed it to begin sweeping the dust on the floor into the pan, then took a seat at the desk. She recalled how Piercing and Mother had gone off to talk about things after the tirade.

Mother hadn't been the same since then, though she tried to act as if she was, to very little effect. In the weeks since Nightmare Night, Orzel noticed that Mother would poke her head into the girl's tower every couple hours, just to 'say hello'. What was more, she'd doubled Orzel's security contingent, then tripled it... At first, the girl thought it might be in response to her visit with Spike. Mother obviously wasn't happy with the idea of Orzel going to see a boy regularly, as had become the case following her first session of Ogres and Oubliettes, but that theory failed to account for other, more noticeable, changes.

The Royal Guard now patrolled the castle grounds in fully modern combat gear, and were equipped with rifles and shotguns, as opposed to the typical ceremonial armor and swords. More startlingly, those typically unarmed guards that monitored Front Gate admissions were being issued pistols, and had been assigned specially trained 'Sniffer Dogs'... Most shocking of all was an adjustment to the Castle Garrison's standing orders, which Orzel only learned about because they were posted on a bulletin board in the hallway leading to her tower. Any intruders were to be detained as potentially hostile agents, and on its own that wasn't unusual. What was unusual was that the guards were now authorized to use lethal force if necessary. These outward facing changes hadn't gone unnoticed by the public either, with many complaining how they missed the old uniforms and sword pageantry. All requests to Aunt Celestia for comment, even those posed by Orzel herself, had been met with uncharacteristic vague non-answers.

All of it told Orzel that there was a crisis afoot, and once again she was frustratingly being left out of the loop. The worst part of it was that, as it was a matter of National Security, she had no one to discuss that frustration with... Not even Doctor Scratch or Spike, as neither of them had sufficient security clearance. Speaking of Spike, the Princess gazed briefly in the vague direction of Ponyville, wishing desperately that she could recall Nightmare Night as a wholly positive experience... It was difficult, as she was quite certain that was when the threat to Equestria had likely emerged.

Orzel at least remembered her first session of the game 'Ogres and Oubliettes' quite fondly, if nothing else. It'd been an enjoyable experience, especially the 'encounter' between the adventuring party and some deceptively colored timber wolves of the literal variety. The tactics she'd learned playing Kriegsplan and Chess needed minor adaptation for small unit combat, but they party had thankfully emerged victorious. The Princess had been even happier to be invited back for continuing games, both because she liked the game, and because it'd given her another excuse to visit Spike.

Those games she'd since attended were just as fun, and Orzel was gradually coming to know the rest of the game group as well... Not as well as Spike, of course, but the group calling themselves the 'Cutie-Mark Crusaders' still seemed like nice enough girls. Some of them were actually quite pretty, not that Orzel cared to notice or anything...

Still, it seemed that once more fate conspired to ruin any speck of happiness she might gain, saddling her once again with the ever infuriating specter of dread that came from the unknown. Looking at the clipboard, Orzel found it difficult to will herself to rise from the seat and continue her work. She needed to just decompress, maybe taking a few minutes to meditate and pray for guidance would help...

Closing her eyes, the Princess did her best to relax in the seat, breathing deeply in through her nose and out through her mouth. She pictured the very ground beneath her as her hoard, her newest acquisition, and that made it all the easier to slip into a deeper state of meditation. It was further helped by her quietly reciting a Lexican prayer, which focused her thoughts away from the negativity that'd clouded her mind of late...

Through a clarified mental lens, the Princess slowly came to accept that for the moment she could do nothing about the problem if she didn't know about it, and as such there was little reason to waste time and energy worrying. The factory was the more important concern at present, as it was still far from being ready for active use... All she could do now was continue taking inventory, so she could repair what needed repairing, so she could begin developing her designs and grow her business. In this instance, slow and steady would win the race. Patience... She just needed to have a little patience...

Eventually Orzel's meditative thoughts turned the positive things that might come about that day. Today was Spike's birthday, and she'd been invited to his party later that afternoon. It was fortunate she had the cold air to blame for the flush of her cheeks, as even the thought of seeing him again filled her with a mixture of excitement and uncertainty. They'd talked and written to one another countless times over the past few days, and each time Orzel found herself liking him as more than a friend... She'd since discovered that for all his desire to remain undecided on issues of politics, he was a surprisingly patriotic fellow.

His latest letter indicated his intention to ask for his Mother's permission to join the Navy, and... Orzel honestly wasn't sure how she felt about that. As the heroic sort, it naturally made sense that he'd want to go off to serve his country. Were he anyone else, Orzel wouldn't have voiced any doubts, but... While she hadn't been to war as a soldier, she she was no less intimately familiar with what it looked like. The odds were that he'd never see such things as she'd seen, and that he would come home safe and sound, but... Orzel dreaded the thought that one day she might be forced to order Spike into battle, and that, Lexicos forbid it, such an order might ultimately lead to his death. Deep down, the Princess knew that she absolutely would give such an order. Such a loss would undoubtedly destroy her, but if it was between her happiness and Equestria's safety, she could do nothing else... It was her duty...

Orzel also understood that were this the Empire, Spike would have already joined the Navy. He'd have been taken on when he turned thirteen, either as a midshipman or a powder handler. Regardless, in the end Orzel supposed it was Spike's decision. If he wanted to answer the call of duty, if he wanted to risk his life for the protection of others, then such an act was most certainly a noble one... Orzel's thoughts turned to the costume Spike chose for Nightmare Night, which despite his young age, nonetheless looked quite dashing on him. In her view, it was a look most befitting a noble heroic soul... He would certainly make a handsome sailor, if nothing else, not that she'd ever dare to admit such a thing...

The girl frowned, sighing once again as she struggled to maintain her state of meditation. It didn't matter how handsome Spike was, nor did it matter how much she'd come to enjoy speaking with him... Though concealed beneath her headscarf, her horns had only grown more pronounced in just the few short weeks since their emergence. What interest would Spike ever have in someone like her, especially with normal looking girls like the CMC? Even in Equestria, even with the gift of sight, she'd once again been rendered defective... It was next to impossible to reasonably hide the horns now, or the patches of scales that occasionally sprouted up wherever she least expected them, or her continually growing and shifting muscle mass.

She might not have feared growing into her 'dragon self', but she certainly didn't care for the freak-show it was turning her into either. For a few moments, just a couple seconds really, she felt the cruel hand of Agent Zhelezo grabbing the back of her skull, his nails digging into her scalp. She heard him in her mind, imagined him seeing what she'd become now... A freak... A weird, worthless, insignificant, frumpy, brutish, ugly, defective freak...

The sudden rush of worthlessness was abruptly halted by the arrival of a new presence in Orzel's thoughts... In the darkness of her mind's eye, she saw the black hooded figure that she'd never been able to identify, looming silently in the void, staring at her with an unspoken intensity. Orzel mentally stepped closer to the figure, her eyes gazing up into the luminous golden orbs, searching for any sort of meaning... The hooded woman merely gazed back, then, with surprising suddenness, she reached out and grabbed Orzel by the shoulder. With her other hand she pointed off into the darkness, silently directing Orzel's attention to an orb of light...

For a moment Orzel hesitated to try and approach it, fearing that at any moment someone in the waking world might break her concentration. Every time she attempted to approach something new, there was always some matter that needed attending to, some problem that needed her resolution. She felt the hooded figure pushing her forward, urging her along... What was the harm in at least trying? With hesitant optimism, Orzel reached out into her mind... She paused for a moment, then finally grasped the orb.

In an instant she was confronted by hundreds of rushing visions, each flooding past faster than she could properly process individually. Taken in together, however, she steadily came to see a common theme... Her constant doubt of herself, her anxiety and constant fear of failure, her self-loathing... The terror that consumed her whenever she contemplated what might happen if she ever lost control of herself again. Yet there were other images that progressively overwrote these thoughts, visions of her learning and growing stronger... Physically, mentally, personally.

Some of it had come about as part of her dragon biology, some of it was the result of the lessons she'd been taught in this world and the last, but through it all... Orzel realized that she was the one that'd been the one pushing forward, she'd been the one doing the work, putting in the effort, pouring herself into everything she did... She could've shut down entirely, and though many times she nearly came close to losing her way, she hadn't... Constantly she affirmed to herself that she was in control, that her will was one of iron, but... Iron was brittle, it would shatter like glass if struck violently enough... Surely she would've broken by now, were that the case?

The visions changed abruptly to ones she recognized from her life before Equestria... To a time when she couldn't read, when every lesson had been a struggle. She heard Sokol's voice, and that of her Father, urging her on. She'd always thought that insistence was the result of them giving up on her having any real future, but... What if there was more to it? What if her parents been like Luna all along, and she'd never realized it? Much as Orzel loved Luna, the woman hadn't been the one to raise her, where else could her drive have come from other than her parents...? Suddenly the girl felt compelled to look at the hooded woman, illuminated now by the flickering light of the orb. In the gloomy recess of that hood, Orzel saw for the first time a glimpse of the face that possessed those wide golden eyes. So very very familiar. So very much like her own, and yet... So very different.

Orzel was transported back to the Factory office as her eyes abruptly snapped open, driven back to the cold reality of the waking world by the shock of what she'd just seen. Though she felt far more centered now, she was nonetheless panting heavily, her chest heaving up and down... Every breath sent forth a cloud of steam into the frigid air, and it took a few moments of concentrated effort to bring her breathing back to a state of normalcy. Had Orzel just seen who she thought she saw...? Was it a result of her active thoughts at the time, or was it something more...? The matter was best saved for Doctor Scratch, or perhaps Seeker Topaz... She wasn't quite sure which as of yet. There were more immediate matters to attend to, however.

Rubbing at her eyes, the Princess took note that she was no longer alone in the room. Midnight sat perched atop the humidor, but the more pressing arrival was a stocky fellow wearing a wool peacoat and knitted cap... Piercing Gaze loomed silently in the doorway, though how long he'd been standing there Orzel couldn't rightly say. He held in his hand a clipboard much like Orzel's, which appeared to be completely filled in... Good. The girl also noticed a smoldering cigar between his lips, which gave her some idea as to where the contents of the humidor might've gone. Obviously, Mother's tirade hadn't been enough to dissuade the man picking up the habit.

"I've finished going over the inventory in the out-buildings and the production floor, everything seems to be here." The man stated, offering the clipboard to Orzel for inspection. He adjusted his glasses, rubbing at his eyes in slight agitation, the dust from the self-sweeping broom evidently causing some discomfort. "I hope I didn't interrupt something." He added, tucking his hands into his coat pockets.

"No... No, I was just meditating." Orzel assured him, sighing through her nose as her eyes danced across the paper. Every piece of equipment she'd been promised in the production facilities was, indeed, present. Dozens of heavy machines, hundreds of smaller hand-tools, everything was right where it needed to be... "You managed to account for all of this so quickly?" The Princess asked skeptically, resting the clipboard on the desk... Her desk. The man nodded simply. "How?" The stocky fellow took his hand from his pocket and snapped his fingers, emitting a small spark of white magic.

"I'm a wizard, need I say more?" Piercing exclaimed confidently, Orzel narrowed her eyes for a moment, but ultimately conceded to that point. She preferred to do things by eye, but Piercing possessed higher skill than her when it came to general magic, so she had to trust that he'd known what he was doing. "So that's everything done here, then... What next?" Orzel hummed as she rose from her seat, quietly approaching one of the filing cabinets and pulling it open. The drawer squealed as it came back, revealing it to be filled with various folders, each pertaining to different matters of varying importance.

Given her abilities she suspected it'd take her less than two hours to completely go through every file in the room. It would be a fun challenge, something she found herself looking forward to, which is precisely why she closed the drawer for the time being. There was still a lot of boring work that needed doing, and she could use the files as a means of treating herself for accomplishing all the other tasks. Straightening the hem of her jacket, Orzel once more grabbed her clipboard from the desk.

"Now I want to examine the contents of the munitions bunkers." Orzel stated in Szafirian, Piercing took a few moments to parse out what she'd said. It was less time than he'd needed before, odds were he'd been practicing with Luna. He took a puff on his cigar and stepped out of the doorway, allowing Orzel to exit and start down the steps. Together the two of them descended to the factory floor, then carried on out the front door, back into the frigid winter air. The sky was darkening with clouds now, a slate gray overcast that was slowly rolling in from the North...

"This job much walking... Much much difficult." Piercing stated simply, walking along beside her as they slowly made their way towards the storage bunkers. Orzel would've taken Piorun, but it was still sweeping up her office, and she wasn't about to ride ahead while the person she was supposed to tutor had to walk.

"Indeed... Now, let us address what you said." Orzel tucked the clipboard back into its assigned pants pocket, then putting her hands into her jacket pockets for warmth. "Repeat after me. This job requires a lot of walking." Orzel stated slowly, listening as Piercing slowly recited the phrase back to her. "It is very difficult." Once again the man repeated her. "This job requires a lot of walking, it is very difficult." Combining the two took a couple tries, but in the end... Acceptable.

"Much better, Mister Gaze." The two of them began walking down the asphalt, further and further away from the factory, away from the potentially prying ears of Grim and Fable. "You know what else is difficult?" Orzel started pointedly. "Designing equipment without knowing what said equipment might face..." Piercing glanced over, cringing slightly at the implication. "I am blind, I am not stupid. Everyone has said nothing is amiss, but you and I are smart enough to know that is a lie." The man took a long puff on his cigar, then exhaled the cloud of smoke to be carried away on the wind.

"It is not really something I can discuss with you." The man responded after a few tense moments of silence, judging by the slowness with which he spoke he was trying exceptionally hard to speak as fluently as possible, and with good success. Orzel just wished he'd used his new found skill to tell her what she wanted to hear. He lapsed into silence for a moment, then rubbed at his chin. "May I ask, what is your thought on why you are here?" Orzel turned to look at him with incredulity. "I mean, do you ever feel you have higher purpose? Beyond being Princess?" The Princess stared at him for a few moments, then shook her head and went back to looking ahead.

"Why I am here is none of your concern, Mister Gaze. I serve the Equestrian people and the motherland, there is no higher purpose." The girl stated bluntly, taking a few steps to put some further distance between herself and the odd man as they drew nearer to the first bunker. "In the interest of better serving the motherland, I will rephrase my question. What caliber weapons should I expect my armor to face? Griffon? Abyssinian? Minotaur...? Our own?" Piercing took another puff on his cigar, which by now had grown a long extension of gray ash at its front.

"I honestly cannot say." Piercing started, holding up a hand before Orzel could counter. "But... Hypothetically... Are you familiar with the controversial broadcast of 'The Clash of the Planets' a few weeks ago?" As a matter of fact, it was something that'd drawn Orzel's particular interest, primarily as it pertained to some of her planning for Operation Firewatch, which she intended to pitch to Luna very shortly.

The broadcast in question was a re-imagining a very popular science fiction novel, and Orzel had to admit that upon listening to a recording of it she actually found the work of Mister Ocean Swells to be of top quality... Perhaps that was the problem. Many people had neglected to listen to the beginning of the broadcast, which made ample declaration that the scenes about to unfold were of a wholly fictitious nature. Those that'd missed this key announcement had arrived as a supposed news announcer described an alien invasion of Equestria in remarkable realism.

Using real place names, and official sounding titles, had contributed to the sense of reality, and an estimated one million Equestrians had panicked as a result. Farmers in some rural communities gathered together with shotguns and hunting rifles, preparing to do battle with the alien menace, while an unfortunate coincidental power outage in Applewood plunged most of that city into chaos, followed by widespread looting... The National Council hearings were still ongoing, but as far as Orzel could reckon Mister Swells hadn't violated any existing legislation, so she doubted he'd face legal backlash.

What'd drawn Orzel's attention most of all was how effective the radio had proven in informing the masses, even if that information had been interpreted in the improper context. She would've liked to have heard the broadcast as it happened for herself, but seeing as she was occupied with a session of Ogres and Oubliettes at the time, it just hadn't been in the cards. What it had to do with the unknown threat that everyone in her family seemed to know about but her was a mystery, unless...?

"Are you implying Equestria is at imminent risk of alien invasion?" Orzel asked with further stoic incredulity, but that quickly turned to genuine concern when Piercing failed to quickly deny her suggestion. "By Lexicos, you are." The man took the cigar from his lips and emphatically shook his head.

"No, not aliens! This is just a hypothetical, remember?" He insisted, tapping the ashes loose from his cigar and replacing it between his lips. "Forget armor for a moment. Let us say, for sake of argument that, Equestria came under surprise attack right now, from an army that could move with remarkable stealth and speed. Do you think our military alone would be able to hold the enemy off?" Orzel shook her head, earning a nod from the man. "I do not suppose you have a plan to change that state of affairs locked away somewhere?" The girl pondered the question, debating on whether this was the proper time to unveil Firewatch... She supposed that it wouldn't hurt to pitch it to Piercing, his approval would certainly make it an easier sell to Mother and Aunt Celestia.

"I might, Mister Gaze... I might." The Princess hedged as the two of them approached the first bunker. "Let us complete our inventory first, then I may be persuaded to give you further details." The pair stopped before the large blast doors, staring up at the rusty metal surfaces, labeled with a faded '01'. Orzel spotted a control panel beside it, its face likewise battered by the elements, but otherwise intact.

Stepping up to the control panel, Orzel flicked several switches, then mashed her thumb down on a large green button. A pair of rotating yellow lights mounted above the doors started up, followed shortly thereafter by a loud buzzing alarm from a loudspeaker mounted on the concrete face. Numerous sounds of pressurizing seals and thunderous clunks arose from within, and a great burst of air was eagerly sucked in as both doors gradually slid back. According to the Army, these bunkers could be vacuum sealed both for the better preservation of materials inside and the prevention of an accidental fire. Considering the bunker was intended to hold munitions of varying types, fire was most certainly a very bad thing.

The alarm's continued its cry as Orzel stepped back beside Piercing Gaze, both watching the doors withdraw to reveal... Darkness. Only when the doors were fully open did the alarm stop, and a few moments later came the first sign of light. Large electronic light bulbs, protected by glass domes and cages on the ceiling, cascaded to life. One after another, Thud... thud... Thud... On and on. Both the Princess's and Piercing's jaws fell slack as the contents of the bunker were revealed to them for the first time, if Orzel had to pick one word to describe the sight, it would've been 'staggering'.

Hundreds of wooden crates, stacked five across and six high, extended along the walls of the five-thousand square foot space. Each displayed the emblem of the Army Ordnance Bureau, and were labeled as '500 Cartridges: Caliber 30 in Cartons', followed by their weight, lot number, and whether they were 'Ball', 'Tracer', 'AP', or 'API'. The sheer amount of ammunition wasn't what'd taken Orzel's attention, no, that fell to the various racks of perfectly pristine, virtually factory new firearms... Hundreds of them, all evenly lined up one after the other, which for the past five years had apparently sat undisturbed, or distributed, in a silent tomb of concrete and steel.

Most were bolt-action rifles, others were 'AARs' or 'Aught Automatic Rifles', named for their designer, Double Aught... The standard bolt-action rifle of the Equestrian military was, as with most things in the Equestrian military, a slightly dated design. Though accurate and lethal at long ranges, they were said to be quite heavy, slow to fire, and reportedly kicked like a mule... That was all well and good for the battlefields of yesterday, but it was fast becoming apparent that speed and maneuverability would reduce the standard engagement range considerably. At closer ranges, it was believed, that Caliber 30 would penetrate an enemy soldier with considerably more energy, and thus would travel through their body without doing as much damage as it would at a longer range.

Numerous attempts had been made to update to a semi-automatic or even fully automatic weapon, with limited success. The AAR, for example, made use of the same Caliber 30 ammunition. It'd seen only limited adoption in recent years, primarily due to bureaucratic resistance and other political factors. There were some campaigning to transition to a rifle that fired a smaller 'intermediate cartridge'. The primary argument against that movement was on full display before Orzel's very eyes, abundance and logistics. It was cheaper and easier to supply an Army with arms and ammunition it already had, rather than begin mass production of new equipment.

The Army had produced so many of the rifles and so much ammunition that, evidently, it couldn't keep track of them all... Orzel's ruminations on the finer points of infantry armaments aside, the sight that lay before her had caused her jaw to drop not out of awe at so many weapons, but rather at the realization that as of that instant any other work on the facility would have to be brought to a halt. This... Was a very serious problem. Running some quick math in her head, Orzel deduced there to be approximately two-hundred rifles of assorted types on one side of the racks. Two sides per rack, multiplied by five rows of three... Six-thousand rifles, and... She paused briefly to examine the boxes of ammunition... Her lowest estimation she came to was three-million rounds of various types of ammunition.

Each bolt-action rifle cost approximately twenty-eight Bits, failing to account for the AARs. Orzel estimated the cost of the equipment before at nearly two-hundred-thousand Bits of taxpayer money, plus a further ninety-thousand Bits in terms of ammunition, assuming an average cost of point-zero-three Bits per round... Nearly three-hundred-thousand Bits, that was the lowest approximate cost Orzel could conservatively reach, though she was certain the actual price was much, much higher... There was three-hundred-thousand Bits worth of equipment in just this storage bunker alone, she had no idea if other bunkers contained similar forgotten arsenals.

The trucks, surplus uniforms, and other pieces of abandoned equipment Orzel could forgive, but to leave so many perfectly functional weapons abandoned without any record of their being here in the first place...? Not only was it a gross misuse of governmental funds, it was also an exceptionally massive security concern. Prior to its acquisition by BDT, Maksym Field had been just one of dozens of other decommissioned military bases that'd been abandoned and put up for sale. How many other forgotten caches of weapons and ammunition were out there, just waiting for someone to come and use them against Equestria? At best it was just rifles, but what if there were artillery pieces, or mortars, or other more dangerous pieces of kit just floating out there...?

"Mister Gaze..." Orzel stated bluntly, swapping to Equestrian. "Is the telephone line in my office functional?" She glanced over at Piercing, who was still staring in silence at the arsenal before them. "Mister Gaze." The girl repeated more vocally, shaking the man from his stupor.

"Erm, uh... Yes, I believe it is." He stated simply, then quickly took the cigar from his lips. Considering they were standing within feet of enough ammunition to level the bunker, he made the wise decision of dropping it to the ground and crushing it under his boot.

"Good... I want you to begin taking inventory of this bunker and the others, do not do so by magic, count each rifle and crate by hand." Orzel commanded sternly, clasping her hands behind her back. "I want an accurate count of how many weapons and rounds of ammunition the company is now in possession of. I, meanwhile, will return to my office and inform the Crown of what we have discovered here. We must have other similar facilities checked accordingly." Piercing nodded for a moment, then looked at her, incredulous.

"The Company...?" He asked, Orzel nodded faintly. "You can't honestly think your Mother is going to allow you to keep all of these, do you?" Orzel shook her head simply, sighing through her nose.

"I have no intention of keeping all of them, Mister Gaze." She stated succinctly. "I am attempting to start a business, after all. BDT will retain some of them for the purposes of testing my armor and other projects, as Mother agreed, but the vast majority will be sold." The girl turned her attention to one of the other nearby storage bunkers. "That is for a later time... For now, I must ensure that no further breaches of security are allowed to persist. Now, do get to work, I would hate to have to fire you on your first day..." She added simply, Piercing just stared at her, utterly gobsmacked. "The last part was a joke..."

Without another word the Princess turned and started back towards the factory, leaving Piercing to go about his work. This had to be it, this had to be the event that forced Celestia to take action against the inefficiencies of the military as a whole. Were it up to Orzel, anyone remotely responsible for allowing so many thousands of Bits worth of military equipment to be misplaced in such a manner would be immediately relieved of duty and court-martialed... Of course, there was a part of Orzel that doubted much of anything would come about as a result of the discovery... Celestia was far too forgiving...

The Princess pondered Piercing's statement about Mother, how she wouldn't allow Orzel to keep them. The thing was that these weapons were held in the name of BDT, not Orzel herself, which would make confiscating the weapons a tad difficult... Legally speaking. Even if that wasn't the case, Orzel found herself strongly resistant to obey such an order to turn them in, even from her Mother. Part of it was the fact that she considered everything on the base to be part of her hoard, but... The other parts of the issue were political, and, to some extent, personal...

Politically speaking, Orzel was still attempting to consolidate a base of support among the Black Crown party. While her popularity was high at present, she had no illusions about it remaining that way if she didn't adhere to a certain image. The Black Crowns were highly individualistic, liberty minded, and extremely skeptical of the government... A government that in many cases had forced them to fend for themselves through inaction, as was the case with the people of Lone Star. There was no way the debacle wouldn't make the papers, and when it did, they might view Orzel's surrender of the weapons to her Mother as a sign of weakness...

On the personal side of things, the Empire forbade such things as weapon ownership were restricted to a select few, specifically those in the Warrior or Merchant Castes. Even then, the MIS could compel someone to surrender their weapons without cause, under penalty of execution. Once done, there was little recourse to get those weapons back. This was done supposedly to make the Empire safer from dissidents, rebels, and other criminals that might've wanted to undermine the Emperor's 'glorious' rule. Of course, that hadn't stopped dissidents, rebels, and other criminals from still acquiring weapons elsewhere... Because they were, well... Criminals.

Orzel now realized that this policy of keeping the populace disarmed was undertaken not for the safety of the Empire's people, but for the safety of the Empire's leaders... It would be exceedingly difficult for any rebellion to take root if it lacked the arms to sustain a fight for very long. Orzel's father had been called away countless times to deal with rebellions on Imperial island colonies, and nearly every one of them had more or less evaporated as soon as the Imperial Special Landing Forces stormed ashore with vastly superior equipment. Some rebellions, those that took to the hills or jungles and fought as guerillas, still persisted. The Princess could only imagine the sort of headway one of those rebellions might've made, had they access to the thousands of firearms she'd just seen...

As she continued her walk towards the factory, the chill of winter playing upon her exposed skin, it dawned on her once again that she was making excuses for herself... Just as when she'd been considering joining the Lexican Orthodoxy, she was trying to find reasons to justify her actions, when no such justification was required. It was yet another in the long line of realizations about life in Equestria versus the ruthlessly repressive Imperial regime. Equestria's constitution was quite clear, Orzel had every right to own weapons if she so chose, and she didn't need much more reason to keep them other than 'Because I want to'... Mother would undoubtedly disagree, but as with so many of the other freedoms Orzel had come to embrace, this was fast becoming a hill she was ready to die on.

For now, she and Piercing had to determine just how badly the military had done in keeping track of their weapons. The Princess decided that now might also be a good time to unveil Operation: Firewatch, as she could leverage the scandal as a reason to take a closer look at everything the government did regarding emergency preparation. After all, what if it'd been much needed medicine or emergency rations that'd been misplaced? Orzel suspected that Mother and Aunt Celestia would quickly take over the issue, regardless of if they agreed to her plans... For today at least Orzel didn't resent that, as every moment she might spend confronting Generals and Quartermasters was a moment she couldn't spend on her work, or more importantly, her visit to Ponyville that afternoon. What tomorrow might bring, especially how she herself addressed the issue, remained to be seen...

Never in the collective consciousness of Modern Equestria had there been a time when Canterlot Castle's guards wore anything but the antiquated ceremonial armor. Indeed, the month or so since Luna was first made aware of the potential Changeling Menace, a great many centuries' long traditions had seen themselves upended. The public understandably desired answers, but as with so many things, it'd been decided that it was best they not know... Typically the task of deciding what level of honesty the Crown could maintain with its citizens. Not only was lying for the 'greater good' a morally dubious act, getting caught in that lie could damage credibility... It also ran into the problem of officials lying for the 'greater good' when, in actuality, it was to conceal their own incompetence or corruption.

In this instance, however, the decision was reached quite quickly. It was but one of countless dozens, nearly all of which took place within the darkened confines of Canterlot Castle's situation room. Luna had yet to find an answer to the far more cumbersome decision of what to tell Orzel, if she should say anything at all... For now, it seemed best to maintain her daughter's ignorance. Director Orcus referred to the concept by its modern name, 'Plausible Deniability'. In the event other members of the Crown were exposed, the girl's credibility and moral authority would remain more or less unhampered... In the event of a major catastrophe, such political assets would undoubtedly prove vital to the continued survival of Equestria.

There were plenty of other things to occupy Orzel's time, thankfully, else the girl would likely prove a security concern... There were already enough security concerns as is, without adding a particularly nosy and unbelievably persistent neurotic to the mix. Recent failed governmental operations and political happenings had been examined with considerably more scrutiny by the Nocturne Agency. From the 'Decency Demands' made by the Noble Party, to the very foundation of the Black Crown Party that'd come as a result, to the coups and civil unrest in other parts of the world. These examinations were, of course, undertaken with the utmost secrecy.

So far, the Nocturne Agency had determined the Changelings possibly had at least a foothold in the Noble Party and unaligned councilors, though it remained to be seen if the same could be said of the Black Crowns. The prospects for the other nations of the world were far less uncertain, as the Agency now suspected Changeling involvement in half a dozen Zebrican Coups and the rapid destabilizing situation in the Griffon Empire, as well as other states inhabiting West Parthenia... These conclusions only demonstrated that there might be Changeling Hives on numerous contents, and provided little aid in the search for threats on the domestic front.

First and foremost they'd performed an audit of the comings and goings of all high ranking officers, going back over a decade. It'd been carried out under the guise of seeking a new Field Marshal to head a theoretical 'Air Force'... The Nocturne Agency failed to uncover any Changeling infiltrators, and had cleared a small contingent of senior military officers, advisers, and Nocturne agents to be brought up to speed. They'd yet to decide on a name for this new secretive committee, but unofficially it was being referred to as 'Shadow Command' or the 'Shadow Committee', both of which had swiftly been stylized to S-COM.

Following the first formal meeting of S-COM nearly a month ago, the new committee began a slow and arduous process of determining the best means of rooting out Changelings in the lower ranks, focusing on weeding out potential spies or saboteurs in the vital roles of supply, communications, and field aid. The audit of senior staff was easy enough to keep under wraps, the same couldn't be said for thousands of supply officers, company clerks, quartermasters, signalmen, message runners, cryptographers, medics, doctors, and even provisioners and cooks... Indeed, there were some agents that feared Changeling infiltrators might easily render entire battalions immobile, either through the introduction of poisons, biological weapons, or even hallucinogens to a the food.

So, Director Orcus came up with a plan to fabricate a reason for an examination of the entire military logistical chain, link by link, document by document, requisition form by requisition form. For the relatively cheap cost of three-million Bits worth of surplus equipment, the Director's agents had either planted or destroyed existing records of entire division's worth of arms and munitions on a series of abandoned military bases. One of them, conveniently, had been in the process of changing hands to a civilian buyer... Basilisk Defense Technologies.

Everyone in S-COM knew there was nothing convenient about it. The guns had always been there, no one had ever lost track of them... At least, no one in the Agency. The weapons were intentionally left sitting there, waiting for a rainy day, when the Agency might need to supply some of less reputable associates with arms in exchange for information or even ancient artifacts. The destruction of all records of the weapons had been extensive, and it'd taken a month or so to ensure that no loose ends could potentially trace the weapons back to anyone... For all intents and purposes, at least from a paperwork standpoint, the weapons had just popped into existence.

From there it was only a matter of time before, surprise surprise, a certain Princess discovered that the 'Army' had 'misplaced' a great number of 'its' guns. In 'response', other 'searches' of 'abandoned' bases would yield 'discoveries' of other 'misplaced' weapons, thus opening up the entire logistical corps to extreme scrutiny. This would allow the search for Changeling infiltrators to commence under a believable ruse of finding any out just what other equipment the military had 'lost'. It'd also force the door open for much a needed change to the military's typical standard operating procedures, the rethinking of which were deemed of utmost priority if Equestria was to prepare to face the Changeling menace...

While very few people realized it, Luna was fast coming to understand that they were living in a new world... A world were things that'd been thought perfectly reasonable in the past would now be viewed with scrutiny, where the security taken for granted by so many was placed at risk. Moreover, she wasn't entirely sure if she or Celestia were equipped to handle such a world... The decision to 'misplace' so much valuable equipment to create pretense for what otherwise might be viewed as a 'witch hunt' rankled both Princesses' sensibilities of honesty and fair play. That wasn't the only reason Luna disliked the idea, however, far from it.

Though Luna and Celestia had both signed off on what had been dubbed 'Operation Marquis' by S-COM, the idea of Orzel going anywhere near a firearm nonetheless caused much concern for the former... Of course, Piercing Gaze had not only proven instrumental in ensuring the realism of the find, he'd also been there to keep Orzel from getting into trouble. The phone call from her daughter, informing the Princess of the discovery, at least let Luna know for certain that her daughter was safe...

That news was undermined by Orzel's insistence that she intended to keep and eventually sell the guns she'd found, as they were legally her property... Luna had expected it as a likely outcome, she'd just hoped for a different one. Luna had used the month needed to destroy the records as a means of ensuring Orzel's company was legally protected, under the guise of a 'background check' and other obstructive bureaucratic measures. It was the first time Luna could remember actually appreciating the glacial speed so common among Equestria's paper pushers. It was that complex web of redundant departments and agencies that made the loss of so many guns seem probable, after all...

Luna wished that was the end of her concerns over Orzel and guns, but it was anything but. With the emergence of the Changeling Menace, the both Celestia and Luna had been revisiting the topic of the girl's desire to begin weapons development... It had yet to be determined if the existing weapons in service would prove effective against a Changeling raid, though estimations were that the existing rifles and limited number AARs in service were respectively too slow and too heavy for what many believed would be a 'highly mobile battlefield'.

Typically the Crown could've gone to the Canterhorn Mountain Arsenal for a new weapon design, but to do so would be to invite further attention. Through Basilisk Defense Technologies, the Crown had an entire research and manufacturing facility at its disposal, one that very few people outside of the Situation Room were even aware of. They also happened to have someone that was not only willing and able to design those weapons, but actually quite eager as well. Orzel was also someone who wouldn't go running her mouth to the press... On the contrary, the girl would likely go out of her way to never so much as glance in the general direction of a reporter.

Luna wished she could just put an end to the idea entirely, but... She'd seen Orzel's nightmares, she'd seen the brutality that Changelings could inflict upon the human body, upon entire cities, and it terrified her... Granted, Equestria's changelings weren't nearly as bestial, but they weren't cute and cuddly either. That sense of terror wasn't nearly as strong as the fear of Orzel getting hurt in an accident, but it was powerful enough that Luna was actually considering turning her daughter's ever expanding intellect towards the creation of weapons...

By now Luna had come to accept it was likely an inevitable occurrence, even if she still struggled to imagine Orzel in such a way, but now... Now the transition to weapons research might very well be authorized by Luna's own hand. It was made all the more difficult because the Princess had now seen one of the fruits of that intellect, one of the innumerable projects the Orzel was always cooking up. Dubbed 'Operation Firewatch', Orzel had directed Luna to a series of notebooks and sketches stored in her tower. She'd made numerous extensive notes and protocols detailing how it was to be carried out, which both Celestia and Luna reviewed carefully.

Though the plan had been compiled by a relative novice, Operation Firewatch was exceptionally well sourced. The plan made references to several papers written by a Doctor Shiroi Hana, of the Imperial Polytechnic Institute in Tennoshima, an isolated nation in the Luna Ocean, situated at the edge of the known world. The nation was often inundated by earthquakes and monster attacks, both of which required a high level of disaster preparedness. Another source included int he plan was a report by Major General Forthright, formerly of the Lone Star Territorial Garrison, detailing how often it was that the task of defending rural communities from dragon attacks was left to the communities themselves.

This particular report was particularly scathing towards what the General referred to as a 'lack of state and national funding, bordering on criminal negligence'. This report had been met about as well as one might expect, which was to say that Major General Forthright was forced to resign... Consequently, the General had gone on to be a founding member of the Black Crown party, and now served as 'Commander In Chief' of the 'Lone Star Homeguard', the largest and most well equipped private militia in the country.

Suffice to say, despite certain mistakes that were understandable given the author of the operation, the overall plan to test Equestria's disaster readiness was nonetheless a sound one. It was the discussion of Operation Firewatch which ultimately had convened the latest meeting of S-COM in the Situation Room. As per usual, the room's atmosphere was a smokey swirling soup of tobacco smoke. Contributing to this effect, half-shrounded by the shadow of the sharp overhead can lights, Director Orcus listened to the proposal with notable interest.

"It will require a large commitment on the part of the various military branches, which will be difficult to conceal. I am not entirely concerned, as the Operation itself can easily be explained as a maneuvering exercise." Luna stated calmly as she stood before a screen on the wall, upon which she'd projected an outline from Orzel's notes. It'd been a simple spell to accomplish, though the intense blue glare of the glowing orb did somewhat hurt the woman's eyes. "We can use the recent Discord Crisis to justify its implementation, should anyone inquire further..." The woman turned her attention to the image on the screen.

Her daughter's handwriting was characteristically orderly, though as per usual, all of her notes were written in Szafirian, which Luna had needed to translate. The gist of the paper called for a series of extremely realistic simulations, what Orzel termed 'Nightmare Scenarios'. They covered everything from earthquakes and massive forest fires to foreign invasion, a bio-terrorism, and the return of half a dozen powerful villains that'd been officially classed by the Nocturne Agency as 'Neutralized'... Given how many of these defeated villains had made returns of late, however, Orzel referred to them as 'EPDs', or 'Entities Presumed Dormant'. Luna couldn't blame her daughter for making such a distinction.

The most detailed Nightmare Scenarios of all were designated as 'Scenario CI-Alpha' and 'Scenario CI-Bravo', and it was that level of detail that told Luna these particular scenarios were special. Both related directly to the sort of threat Luna was most concerned about, a siege of Canterlot, preceded by covert incursion of agents from the Opposing Force, dubbed simply OPFOR in Orzel's notes. Situated as it was at the top of a mountain, many believed it would be next to impossible for OPFOR to lay siege in a conventional sense, and it was that impossibility that prompted the city's defensive planners to declare Equestria's capital 'nigh impenetrable'...

What stuck out to Luna about CK-Bravo in particular was that Orzel had come at the attack from a wholly unconventional direction, with agents of OPFOR infiltrating below the city. The city sewers had hundreds of access points, not including the thousands of manhole covers that dotted every street, all of which were more or less unsecured. Moving unobserved throughout the city's sewers, OPFOR would be almost entirely undetectable, and able to plant massive explosive charges beneath key strategic structures, from police stations and hospitals to gas stations and communications relays, if not destroying intersections and streets vital to the movement of defensive troops outright.

CK-Alpha was the slightly more outlandish of the two, in which the city was infiltrated initially by one OPFOR Agent. This Agent would commence covert operations within Equestria's government, over the course of years rising in the ranks of a branch of the military or another vital agency, at which point they would be in close enough proximity to strike directly at the Royal Family itself... Following a successful 'Decapitation of Government', the rest of OPFOR's forces would move on the city en masse, taking advantage of the chaos and confusion to seize the city virtually unopposed.

It was CK-Alpha that currently sat on the screen, though civilian casualties for both scenarios were projected by Orzel's calculations numbered in the high hundreds to low thousands, and posited a total loss of Canterlot and its surrounding territories to OPFOR, including the vital transportation hub in Ponyville. The majority of Equestria's military communications ran through Canterlot, and the majority of its troop trains went through Ponyville. Losing either city would be a great blow to Equestria's ability to respond to further threats, losing both would render an immediate counter attack nearly impossible. It would therefore be an excellent test of the military's ability to adapt and improvise, though there were those that remained skeptical...

"Going a head with this large an exercise could be a big mistake." One voice spoke up from across the room, drawing all eyes to the cigar smoking visage of Field Marshal Redwood. "I'm not just talking about the potential for a security leak, I'm talking about how it could effect our existing readiness. We're already getting ready to take a sledgehammer to the logistical corps, don't you think we ought to hold off on wrecking our overall command structure as well? Not to mention funding the creation of this... What was it? A Civil Defense Agency? Yet another agency we'd need to work into an already weakened chain of command."

There were several murmurs of agreement from around the room... Redwood had a point, too much change too quickly might lead to chaos, especially if the Changelings attacked during the restructuring. All existing estimations indicated the Changelings should've attacked somewhere by now, at least, that's what it seemed to be. Something had been causing quite the stir in the hive-mind, after all, what else besides a preparation for an upcoming attack? It could've been hundreds of different things, anything from a particularly vigorous political rally to a birthday party, if the Changelings had either of such things. There was just too much S-COM didn't know...

"How much do you suspect a decapitation of our government would weaken the chain of command, Field Marshal?" Orcus asked coldly, taking a long drag on his cigarette... Luna seldom grew angry with the man for his practice, but his recent introduction of the habit to Piercing certainly hadn't won him any favors. "You've seen the state of things, all of you... When Nightmare Moon darkened our skies, or when Discord returned, where was Equestria's military?" The man leaned forwards in his seat, lacing his fingers together.

"Both times, our response was hampered by a lack of planning. The first was a forgivable oversight, one thousand years of uninterrupted peace, who could blame us?" Orcus continued with deadly seriousness. "The level of damage sustained in the latter incident, however is entirely our fault. We had ample warning Discord would escape, and still our plans were flimsy, all of us, even myself, bear part of that responsibility." The man exhaled a small cloud of smoke from his nose, receding back into the shadows. "Barring a few exceptions, we are dreadfully under prepared. Not just for the Changelings, but a changing world, a shifting balance of power..." The man waved the glowing ember of his cigarette around. "This operation could reveal to us problems that in future might otherwise mean the difference between the continued dominance of Equestria on the global stage and our near total annihilation." There was more murmuring among the room.

"All this discussion is pointless." Celestia spoke up from her seat, taking a surprisingly stern tone. "The decision ultimately falls to the Crown." All eyes turned now to the elder Princess, whose brilliant eyes glinted faintly from the brightness of the projection beam. "Certain changes will need to be made, but the usefulness of Operation Firewatch cannot be ignored. We'll begin as soon as possible." A series of mumbling arose, but gradually transitioned towards silent acceptance. With the matter thoroughly settled, the woman's eyes turned to Orcus. "Director, have you anything new to report regarding the search for the Changeling hive?"

"I'm afraid all I can tell you is where it isn't, your Majesty." Orcus responded apologetically, rising from his seat and moving towards the screen. Luna made her way back to her own chair, allowing the Director to take control of the projection spell. With a faint flickering effect the outline of Scenario CK-Alpha was replaced by a topographical map of the Canterhorn and its surrounding areas. "Fortunately the clean up effort has given us a plausible excuse for our field agents to go poking around, otherwise progress might be much slower..." The man circled the Canterhorn with his finger. "Canterlot itself is free of any hive activity, though I think from now on it might be prudent to maintain a security force in the crystal caverns." He moved his finger to Ponyville. "Ponyville proper likewise shows no sign of a hive, we're now focusing our efforts on the area known as Ghastly Gorge. There are a lot of caves that need to be checked by eye, some of them inhabited by less than friendly wildlife."

The Director went on to describe similar searches beneath numerous major Equestrian cities and other rural areas, though these too yielded little result other than telling the Agency where the hive wasn't. Even so, Luna and Celestia agreed that the news was nonetheless positive. So far Equestria's major cities weren't at risk of being undermined, and now that they knew to be on the lookout, it would be exceptionally difficult for the Changelings to gain a foothold unopposed. These sweeps had unexpectedly yielded the discovery of several ancient artifacts and other anomalous objects of a highly secret nature, all of which were swiftly taken into Agency custody. Luna got the impression there was more to it than that, but... This was neither the time or the place.

"What I would like to begin discussing more in detail is a matter of great importance." Orcus started, having finished his explanation of the ongoing search. "That is the status of our current plan for continuity of government." The man's eyes fell squarely on Luna and Celestia. "As it stands, every member of the Crown currently resides in Canterlot. While the odds of an enemy invasion of the city are unlikely, the odds that they might attempt to replace one of its members, or even outright assassinate them all, is very real." Luna heard a number of affirmative murmurs from the assembled committee.

"I would like to therefore approach the possibility of selecting a 'Designated Survivor', someone whom we would relocate from Canterlot to a more secure location." The man's eyes turned directly to Luna. "I propose that Princess Orzel would be ideal to fill this role. While she has become more active as of late, her presence wouldn't be immediately missed." One could've heard a pin drop in the silence that followed, and it seemed that every man in the room more or less froze completely still, as if fearful moving might draw some sort of retaliation.

"What do you mean 'relocate'?" Luna asked, her tone remaining calm, even as the idea set her mind alight with more worry. "Are you suggesting I send my daughter away...?" Orcus nodded solemnly. "Where would I be sending her?" The Director turned his attention back to the screen, influencing the spell to display a small chain of islands, islands even Luna didn't recognize.

"These are the Illusion Islands, a chain of islands situated in the Luna Ocean, north of the sixtieth parallel. They're part of 'Frontier Province'." Orcus explained calmly, gesturing to what looked to be a remarkably small speck of land at the end of the chain... At the very edge of the known world. "I'd propose relocating the Princess to Naval Weapons Station Snowcone on the Isle of Net Nadezhdy. It's remote, easy to secure, and just about the last place anyone looking for the Princess would think to check. An Arcane Beacon could be erected on site in preparation for a governmental decapitation, to allow her to communicate with our forces on the mainland." Luna immediately recognized the meaning of the island's name, translated from draconic it roughly became 'The Isle of Lost Hope'...

"May we have the room, please...? You are all dismissed." Celestia abruptly spoke up, before Luna could even begin to compile a response. As per the request, the various officers and advisers of S-COM rose from their seats and filed out, closing the door behind them as they went. With it firmly secured shut, Orcus clasped his hands behind his back and took another drag on his cigarette.

"You want me to send my daughter to a remote island near the Frozen North?" Luna asked rhetorically, only for Orcus to nod in the affirmative. "I realize your concern over a decapitation of our government, but is such a move really necessary? We have increased security around the Castle, should that not be enough?"

"Typically, were this a normal threat, it would be." Orcus began a bit more somberly, stepping out of the light of the projection spell. "We're still making this up as we go, your Majesty. Short of taking a blood sample from every person that enters the gates, I am uncertain if there is any other way to non-invasively determine if a person is a Changeling." The man crushed his cigarette out into an overflowing ashtray, then took another from his pocket. After a few moments, however, Orcus slipped the cigarette back into the pack and took a seat across from both Princesses.

"There's more to this than continuity of government, isn't there...?" Celestia's tone was more accusatory than questioning. "I thought you agreed you wouldn't keep things from us anymore, Orcus." The Director bowed his head slightly, lacing his fingers together on the table as the projected image shimmered to reveal a photograph of a remarkably ancient monolith of white stone, its surface meticulously carved with varying symbols, symbols Luna recognized instantly. The object itself was the Kwarczkie lexicon at the Canterlot Draconic Institute, the very same that'd helped Twilight Sparkle to learn the ancient language, and Luna, by extension.

"Indeed I did, which is what I intended to do after our meeting was completed, now serves just as well." Orcus began, inclining his head towards the image. "I believe Princess Orzel may be a key component of an ancient prophecy..." The man began in that gravelly voice of his. Though she maintained her outward calm, Luna nonetheless felt a lance of panic run down her spine. "A powerful spell-caster of an ancient draconic race arrives and is taken in by the royal family of the most powerful state in the world..." The Director began evenly. "Not long after, an old and powerful threat rears its ugly head... Now, take into account what Piercing told us of their history. The Changelings and Kwarczkie fought one another in the Abyssal War, and a pattern appears to emerge." Orcus sighed.

"I realize the reasoning might be thin, but as with all things relating to the Kwarczkie, we have little to go on. Our field agents in the Southern Dragonlands have found few intact monuments, though the search remains ongoing. " The Director continued as reassuringly as he could. "We need time to determine if these happenings are just coincidence or something greater, and I feel it best that Princess Orzel be sequestered somewhere beyond the conceivable reach of any Changeling in the meantime."

Luna opened her mouth to respond, then stopped herself and looked at Celestia. Her sister seemed transfixed, between the news of a potential prophecy and the monolith displayed on screen. Luna suspected she'd get little advice as a result. As with so many things relating to Orzel, to even consider the notion of sending her daughter away was, from an impartial point of view, difficult enough as to border impossible. Though the Princess didn't totally approve of her daughter's latest ventures, with time she'd come to accept that the changes Orzel was making were positive ones. It'd first become clear when Luna received the first report from Orzel regarding progress on her OUBC Project...

On its surface the paper was a lot of dull technical terminology, but reading between the lines, Luna had discerned a sense of passion and satisfaction in the work that couldn't be understated. The same could be said of her twice weekly visits to prayer services. Religion wasn't for everyone, Luna personally considered herself an agnostic, but even if she still had misgivings about the idea long term, in the short term its benefits couldn't be denied... It helped Orzel become more centered, and in spite of her implacable stoicism, Luna nonetheless detected a little more spring in the girl's steps.

Whether that was the result entirely of prayer services or not was doubtful, the Princess personally believed it was more likely her daughter's infatuation with Spike that was the real culprit. Of all the changes, that was still the most difficult to swallow. Luna had been exceptionally lucky in meeting Observos, and she could only worry that her daughter wouldn't be so fortunate. The last thing Luna wanted was for Orzel to get her heart broken... All of these things, plus others, made it that much harder for Luna to come to grips with deciding to heed the Director's advice.

Sending Orzel away, just as she was getting her feet underneath her, seemed a good way for Luna to permanently damage relations with her daughter. She knew how Orzel would process the news, knew that she'd come up with a dozen reasons as to why Luna was 'actually' sending her away... This time, Luna doubted greatly Orzel would blame some failing on her own part. She'd think it was because Luna didn't want her going to the temple, or that she didn't want her to correspond with Spike anymore, and Luna knew all too well the negative ideas that sort of belief could breed...

"I understand your concerns, Director, but at present I do not feel comfortable with the proposal at this time." Luna finally stated, sighing heavily through her nose. She could see the concern in Orcus' eyes, so she raised a mollifying hand. "I may be persuaded to revisit my decision if at the conclusion of Operation Firewatch I believe we are truly as ill prepared as you and my daughter believe we are, but not before." Orcus' features relaxed considerably, though Luna could see the man's fingers now drumming pensively against the table. "You have something further you want to add?"

"I would also like to urge your reconsideration of your ban on the Princess's development of offensive equipment." Orcus stated cautiously, taking a more diplomatic tone. "I think it would be prudent to commission Basilisk Defense Technologies to come up with an entirely new line of infantry equipment, including small arms. Body armor is well and good, but as I said before, these are uncertain times." Luna cast a look at Celestia, whom had since taken her eyes from the image of the monolith. "You know as well as I do that she's uniquely qualified in that field, we'd be fools not to at least attempt to make use of every asset at our disposal. On its own, I'm concerned Equestria's defense industry may not be up to the task of meeting the needs of the modern battlefield."

Luna pursed her lips, sighing through her nose as she took in Orcus' words... She'd hoped to take more time to decide, and hearing Orzel's special abilities referred to as an 'asset' didn't help matters. Loathe as Luna was to admit it, though, the man actually had a point. Her daughter was more than willing to take on such a task, especially if it meant Equestria would be better prepared to face threats in the future. If Piercing's theories about the Kwarczkie were correct, if she was some sort of 'Weapon Wizard', it could propel Equestria's military back to its position of former glory. Glory, of course, was the least of Luna's concerns...

For the first time since first taking Orzel in, her worries over the girl's mental health had all but subsided completely... She was far better off now than she'd been upon her first session with Doctor Scratch, and Luna's fear that she might do something foolish had likewise faded to the point of only lingering in the back of her mind. That still left the risk of Orzel being harmed by an accident, but as the girl would be quick to remind her, she was of a far sturdier sort than the typical Equestrian.

"What sort of environment would she be focusing on, were this to go ahead?" Celestia abruptly asked, finally bringing herself into the conversation. Something about the image on the screen had her attention, Luna could tell that much, though she suspected she wouldn't learn what it was until after their conversation with Orcus concluded. "Jungle? Arctic? Forest?"

"Preferably all of them, but off the top of my head...?" Orcus began, scratching under his chin. "Desert, forest, and an urban environment. We suspect these to be the most likely locations for us to face Changeling forces." Celestia nodded in response, but offered no further comment. Just as was the case regarding informing Orzel about the Changeling menace, the decision was Luna's... She hated the idea, truly she did, but in this instance... The good of the country had to come first.

"Create a list of the items you want particular focus on, I will present it to her myself after the conclusion of Operation Firewatch." Luna conceded with a heavy sigh, Orcus nodded dutifully and reached into his pocket. Apparently finished with his concerns, the man withdrew the cigarette he'd stowed before. "Now, please... Leave us..." The man nodded simply as he lit the cigarette, rising from his seat and making for the door. In a matter of seconds the room was empty, save the two sisters, both of whom sat for a few moments of silence. Ultimately it was Luna that broke the silence, as the great weight of her decision began bearing down. "Do you think I am making the right choice for her?"

"If you're asking if I think it's wise to put so much further pressure on her? I can't say..." Celestia stated honestly, leaning back in her seat and staring at the continuing projection. "I think if we are to ask her to do this for Equestria, we must also take an active role in assisting her." Luna nodded in agreement with the sentiment, though that wasn't the answer she'd been hoping for. "If you're asking if I think it's right to allow her to pursue weapon's research in general? I suppose must answer your question with a question. Would you be so conflicted if she wanted to pursue bladesmithing? It's a field many Equestrians go into when they get their cutie marks, perhaps just as dangerous as gunsmithing, if not more so... All that fire and hot steel, all those heavy hammers and tongs." Luna paused for a moment, then sighed.

"I do not want to take away what remains of her teenaged years..." The woman responded, also leaning back in her seat. "That is one of my greatest fears, that she will one day come to resent me for asking such a thing of her." Celestia merely hummed in understanding. "Was it this difficult with me, when I was her age...?" Her sister began chuckling warmly, prompting Luna to turn in her seat and look at the woman directly.

"You and Orzel can both be almost unbearably persistent at times, and I mean that in the best of ways, but... It's difficult to say." Celestia stated with nostalgia, her eyes returning to the image of the monolithic lexicon. When next she spoke, it was with a note of seriousness. "My main concern would be what Orcus said about the potential for a prophecy..." She pointed briefly at the screen. "Orzel mentioned something to me during her first visit to the Temple of Lexicos, how she'd 'seen' something called a Monolith, a great white stone tablet, while meditating..." The woman rubbed at her chin, Luna could certainly see why the image had thus drawn Celestia's attention. "I recall there were a few messages from a monastery in the Southern Dragonlands, shortly after Orzel first revealed her origins. I think it might be wise to have Orcus look more deeply into the visiting Seeker, a Drake by the name of Topaz. He mentioned being called upon by Lexicos herself to visit this temple in particular..."

As if Luna wasn't already worried about alienating her daughter as it was, having Orcus look into the Seeker would only complicate things. The girl spoke quite fondly of him, as he was supposedly easy to approach despite a somewhat intense appearance. Odds were that if Orcus started asking questions of this 'Seeker Topaz' fellow, he'd invariably mention it to Orzel, and of course Orzel would take it to mean that Luna was trying to spy on her and keep her from practicing her faith... Even so, this was one scenario where Luna had to bite the bullet. Much as she believed the prophecy theory to be only that, a theory, she nonetheless had to ensure that other acts of subterfuge weren't underway.

"Remember when the worst thing we had to worry about was whether or not we had enough wreathes for the Hearthswarming Eve Festival?" Luna asked with despondent frustration, rising from her seat and using her wings to clear the air of smoke around her. Celestia rose shortly after, likewise doing her best to clear the lingering smog away from her.

"Of course I do, but I also remember when we almost ran out of clean drinking water, or that fire that burned half the wheat crops, or the barbarians that tried to sack our capital... Twice." Celestia responded as the two of them walked towards the door, the projection spell winking out of existence as they moved. "The world's problems aren't any less difficult now as they were a thousand years ago, they're just more... Complicated."

"You realize complicated is a synonym of difficult, correct?" Luna countered as the two of them opened the door, stepping out into the well lit outer hallway.

"Yes, but you're smart enough to know what I mean." Celestia offered flatly, clasping her hands behind her back as the two continued walking. There was no real destination in mind as of yet, but just standing in place seemed... Wasteful of precious time, somehow. "While I'm hopeful the Changeling threat goes nowhere, that doesn't mean another threat won't pop up. Our world has a lot more moving parts now than it did before... Only recently have I realized how many there were, and how poorly many of them fit together." Celestia cast a brief look out a nearby window, looking vaguely in the direction of Orzel's tower. "Were we not already giving her so many tasks, I would think it best to turn Orzel loose against that problem as well."

"I would be surprised if the idea had not already crossed her mind..." Luna mumbled, and together the two of them continued on, neither of them quite sure of what might come next.

Though he wouldn't admit it outright, Spike was feeling remarkably strange, more so than had been the case recently. It was a bizarre, churning, hungry sensation in his stomach, that only ever abated when he laid in bed. Only his bed, though, no other couch or chair would suffice. As if to prove just how strong the sensation was, today was his birthday, and no amount of special 'birthday breakfast' or other fare could satiate the hunger ravenous building within. Try as he might to fight against it, Spike was also regarding various objects around the library with a new found desire, objects that he couldn't help feeling would just look better in his room. Books, lamps, even the kitchen sink... He'd yet to act on the urge to liberate the items for himself, but they grew all the more enticing with every passing moment.

Matters weren't helped by other concerns on the boy's mind, primarily the disposition of his future. It'd been a simple enough task to go into the local recruiter's office, and though he was informed quite forcefully that he needed a parent's authorization to continue the process, he'd nonetheless been given a series of brochures and papers. They gave details about the various benefits of enlisting, including a pension, government aid if he wanted to attend college, and skills that could be transferred to a civilian career when, if, he ever left the service. If he wanted to make the military his career, that was perfectly fine as well. Not to mention the chance for adventure and the honor of serving a cause that Spike, personally, found to be quite noble and heroic...

There were two recruiters in particular that'd gotten Spike's attention, Lieutenant Archboard of the Navy and Major Offensive of the Lunar Marines. He was still partial to the Navy, specifically the 'Method of Service' classified as 'Damage Control Specialist'... Essentially a firefighter, according to Archboard. As a dragon, who was naturally impervious to fire, it seemed a potentially good choice... The Marines, meanwhile, were looking for infantrymen and truck drivers... While not as glamorous as visiting some foreign port, driving a truck across Equestria didn't seem that bad an option either. Both possible outcomes, of course, was predicated on the notion that Twilight actually agreed to sign off on the paperwork... Now that he was seventeen, her signature was all that stood between him and the chance to see the world. Getting that signature, however, was proving easier said than done.

"Absolutely not!" Twilight proclaimed loudly, her face a mixture of shock and disbelief, clenching the parental consent form in her hand. Spike had filled the majority of the form out himself, except for the final few lines, which needed to be filled out by Twilight. Obviously, judging by the shrillness of her voice, his argument wasn't quite strong enough to convince his Mom. Spike had expected as much, though he'd sincerely hoped he'd be wrong. "You're too young to be making decisions like this on your own, did someone put you up to this?" Spike leaned back in his seat at the kitchen table, crossing his arms as he sighed through his nose.

"No, Mom, no one put me up to this." Spike countered flatly, trying his best to maintain a calm facade. "I don't see what the big deal is, you and your friends have gone on tons of adventures." Twilight set the papers on the table, sighing with frustration before taking a seat across from the boy.

"Yes, we have, but there's a difference between solving a friendship problem and going off to join the military." She stated bluntly, looking Spike in the eyes with an expression of profoundest seriousness and concern. "It's a very big commitment... I mean, have you read this?" Twilight asked, gesturing to the form. "The minimum required period of service is four years! That's four years away from home, away from all your friends and family..." Spike nodded again, he was indeed very aware of that fact, but it wasn't as if he couldn't write a letter back home. "What if something happens? What if you get attacked by pirates? Or dragons? Or dragon pirates?" The woman's voice grew softer. "What if you have to hurt someone else, Spike...? What if you have to kill someone? Have you thought about that?"

"Well, yes, actually..." Spike admitted, tensely rubbing at the back of his neck. "The thought did occur..." He looked at the table, sighing heavily through his nose. "I'm just... Sick of being stuck here. I don't want to just be your assistant forever, you know? I'm not a boy anymore, despite what you might thing, and I'm not some 'baby dragon' either. I can take care of myself, I can handle responsibility. I've learned to run this library by myself, haven't I?" Twilight opened her mouth to speak, but the young man cut her off. "I want to serve my country, don't you think I'm old enough to decide that for myself...?"

"No... No I don't." Twilight's respond was blunt, but... No longer shrill, nor was it angry, it was... Different. It took him a moment to realize that she was speaking to him as an adult. "I know you may not think it, but one year is a long time... I don't want you to sign up for something as big as this, only to decide a few months later that you've made a mistake." Twilight set the paper on the table and slid it back to her son. "If you still want to sign up when you're eighteen, that's your business, but... Right now you're asking me to send you into harms way... Asking me to let you potentially hurt people... You'll go much further in life using your words, not going out to look for a fight, especially if it's for the sake of 'adventure' alone. It's just wrong." Spike sighed, both in frustration and slightly out of guilt.

"What about Shining Armor? He's in the Royal Guard, was it wrong for him to sign up?" The young man asked, crossing his arms across his chest. "What if a year from now I still want to enlist? Are you going to think less of me if I decide that's the life I want too?" The sensation in his stomach was only growing stronger, further fanning the fires of his irritability.

"I won't think less of you, that's... Not what I meant." Started Twilight, sighing with evident frustration, while still managing to maintain a level of calm. "I just don't want you to to run off thinking it's some big adventure, then wind up getting killed because of it. If you want to do that when you're eighteen, there's not much I can do to stop you, but right now? Right now there's nothing, nothing, anyone can say that will change my mind. I will not..." The woman's facade of calmness faltered, her voice actually cracking, while a tear streaked down her cheek. "I will not be the one to send my baby off to war..."

The rumbling fire in Spike's stomach was briefly curtailed by Spike's realization that he'd made his Mom cry... He hadn't thought about it in terms of what it might mean to Twilight, and hearing her put it so succinctly was enough to give him pause. Once again he was sitting in the kitchen, once again he felt like the absolute lowest piece of dirt in all creation. The strange feeling returned with a vengeance, but Spike fought against it with all his might... He might've told Twilight about it, but he'd already made her upset enough, he wasn't going to compound things further. Sighing heavily through his nose, Spike silently rose from his seat and picked up the form...

"I'm sorry..." He mumbled quietly, crumpling the paper into a ball and casting it into a nearby trash can. The young man started towards the door, but was stopped when Twilight grabbed hold of the sleeve of his purple hooded sweatshirt. He turned back to face her just in time for the woman to hug him tightly, especially considering she only came up to about his chin.

"I'm not mad at you..." She stated simply, refusing to let go. "You just sprung this on me, and I didn't have time to think about what I said." Spike somewhat awkwardly glanced around the kitchen, then tentatively returned the hug. "My Mom nearly went out of her mind when Shining joined the Army, but she understood that he did so because he wanted to make Equestria a safer place..." Twilight held him even tighter.

"You're growing up to be a good man, Spike, and if in a year you still feel that enlisting is the right thing for you, I... I want you to know that I'll be proud of you." With those further words from Twilight, Spike's feeling of shame abated somewhat, though he still felt like dirt for putting his Mom in such a position. Her posture abruptly changed before Spike could respond, however. "Are you feeling okay?" The woman let go of Spike, wiping at her eyes and taking a deep breath. "It feels like you've got a temperature." Spike was once again surprised by Twilight's ability to chain gears so quickly, especially as she put her hand on his forehead. "By Celestia, you're burning up!"

"Uh... I'm a dragon?" Spike countered weakly, rubbing nervously at the back of his neck. "Fire is kinda my thing?" Twilight stepped back, putting her hands on her hips and fixing him with a look that told him her time addressing him as an adult had temporarily come to an end. "It's nothing, Mom, just a little... I dunno, acid reflux or whatever." The woman inclined her head ever so slightly forward, looking at him intently over the rims of her glasses, a clear indication that she wasn't buying it.

"How long...?" Twilight asked.

"It's not that-" Spike started, but Twilight spoke over him.

"Tell me how long, are you having any other symptoms." The woman repeated herself, regarding him with ever increasing scrutiny.

"A couple days, I guess? I'm just really, really, hungry, but... For weird stuff. Like, I want the refrigerator, and the sink, and..." Spike settled his eyes on a broom in the corner... It was just about brand new, hardly ever been used... Why shouldn't he have it? "That's a nice broom..." He quickly shook his head. "See what I mean?" A look of horror spread across the young man's face. "Am I going to explode? Is that even possible?!" Twilight's serious demeanor all but evaporated with those words, as evidently she was struggling to keep from laughing... Spike failed to see what was so funny.

"You aren't going to explode." She stated as seriously as she could, which did little to assuage Spike's fear about what might actually be wrong with him. "I was talking with Princess Celestia recently about just this sort of thing, actually... It sounds like you're undergoing some sort of 'quasi-Elemental Transformation'."

"Like the Elements of Harmony? That sort of transformation?" Spike asked, quickly beginning to pace back and forth. "I always felt like I should've worn a lead lined apron or something when those things went off! Am I turning to stone? I'm turning to stone, aren't I!" Twilight quickly moved to stop him, putting both hands on his shoulders.

"No, Spike, you are not turning to stone." Twilight insisted, managing a slightly more serious expression now. "It's a thing that all dragons go through, typically it's when they get their horns and fangs... So, I suppose it's sort of like teething, but all over your body." Twilight trailed off, rubbing at her chin. "According to Princess Celestia it's the final stage in draconic development before what she called a molt, but... You don't have to worry about that for another year." The woman turned her attention fully back to Spike. "The point is that there's nothing to worry about, though... The Princess did advise me not to let you have too many things too quickly." Twilight crossed her arms across her chest, looking thoughtfully around the kitchen. "I'm going to have to give her a call for more specifics. Why don't you head upstairs and lay down, there's still some time before the party."

"Right... The Party." Spike nodded, awkwardly rubbing at the back of his neck. "I think you're right, actually... Laying down makes me feel a little better." Twilight merely smiled and nodded at him, and with that last bit of permission the young man made his way out of the kitchen.

With as much speed as he could pour on without appearing too hurried, he ascended the steps and quickly entered his room. It wasn't nearly as clean as it'd been following Orzel's first visit, but he'd managed to maintain some semblance of order... Partly because he was told that'd be a good habit to get into by the recruiters. Speaking of the Princess that'd cleaned his room, he took a few minutes to tidy up what bits of the room were now out of place. It still wasn't exactly perfect, but he hoped it'd be enough to at least make it seem like he wasn't a slob... Well, not a total slob at any rate...

When all was said and done, the young man plopped down atop his freshly made bed bed and rolled onto his back. As expected, the burning sensation in his stomach faded as soon as he hit the mattress... Just as was the case with his sleeping, it always came back to that mattress in particular... It wasn't even that comfortable. Maybe the lumps were in just the right place where they actually supported him better? Whatever the cause of that strange soothing sensation, Spike remained motionless on his bed for the next hour or so, staring up at his ceiling...

His mind slowly wound down from the conversation he'd had with Twilight, which both troubled and soothed his anxious thoughts. So he was going through some sort of 'Elemental Transformation', whatever the heck that meant... Thinking back over the past few weeks, his thoughts to Princess Orzel. She had fangs, though she took every opportunity to hide them from view... Spike hadn't seen if she had horns or not either, though odds were those were concealed beneath her headscarf... The headscarf apparently had to do with her religion, at least as far as she'd explained it to him. Why she went out of her way to conceal her fangs, one of her most beautiful draconic features, was still a mystery to Spike.

Orzel had promised she'd visit the party, and while Spike would nonetheless be happy to see everyone that came, the Princess once again was all he could think about. By now he was almost positive in his feelings the Princess liked him... As in like-liked him... Being almost positive, of course, meant little. If he was wrong, if he attempted to broach the subject of perhaps seeing a movie together, or maybe going to dinner, it might very ruin the rapport he had with her. There was that inner fire again... Even as he laid atop the only bed that could offer him rest, it burned hotter and hotter the more he thought about her, to such an extent that Spike actually noticed smoke starting to waft away from the sleeves of his hoodie.

"What the...?" The sight was enough to snap him from his reverie, only to yelp suddenly as something sharp jabbed him in the lip. Rising to a sitting position, the young man rubbed at his mouth, noting the very sudden arrival of two wickedly sharp incisors, which now protruded past his lower lip. "When the heck did those get here...?" He muttered, rising from the bed, only to immediately sit back down.

Pain... Unimaginable pain... He'd injured himself several times throughout his life, including a run in he and Big Macintosh once had with a pack of particularly ornery, and deceptively fast, woodchucks. That, however, was a story the two of them agreed was never to be spoken of again. The point was that this... This was a whole new adventure in agony. What was more, the sweatshirt once again began to smoke, as if just about ready to catch fire.

"Wow... Wow wow, wow wow wow..." Spike said through gritted teeth. "Son of a... Bicycle repairman, that smarts... Just gonna... Sit back down." The pain faded to manageable levels as soon as he was back on the bed, the smoke likewise coming to a stop. He probably should've called down for Twilight, but... It didn't feel bad enough to go to the hospital, he just needed to man up, tough it out a bit longer. Never mind that it felt like he'd swallowed twenty pounds of white hot steel rivets, he could handle this on his own. He'd already gotten her upset enough to cry once today, he wasn't keen on trying for a double hitter.

Then, just as he didn't think the situation could get any worse, the door to his room opened. At first, Spike worried it was Twilight... To his slight relief, he was treated to the arrival of a familiar bespectacled Princess. Orzel was dressed as casually as she ever allowed herself, a pair of work boots boots, jeans, a white woolen sweater, and her omnipresent headscarf, a portion of which she'd pulled up just a tad to cover the lower portion of her face. Though her eyes remained stoic, it was clear she'd been informed something was amiss.

Fearing she might call attention to the sudden change in his symptoms, namely the small haze of smoke that lingered in the air, Spike quickly waved her in. One of the few rules Twilight had whenever Orzel visited was that the door to his room had to stay open, he didn't exactly know why that was... Seeing as one of the activities he and Orzel liked to do together was work on their respective models, he reasoned it was probably so there was enough ventilation to keep them from being overcome by the fumes of modeling glue. Regardless, he didn't want his Mom to see all the smoke that'd filled the room, so he wordlessly gestured for Orzel to close the door. Her eyes widened for just a moment, boring into him for a few moments as if searching for some hidden meaning... Then, with some mild reluctance, she closed the door.

"Are you in pain?" Orzel asked with that concerned monotone of hers, standing in front of him, hands on her hips. Spike nodded silently, prompting the Princess to bring one hand to her chin. "Are you breathing fire, or is this the result of something else?"

"Watch." Spike rose from the bed, his temperature and pain level spiking. After only a few seconds the jacket was smoking again, and he was in sufficient enough pain to groan as he was forced back down. Within moments of making that noise, Orzel was in front of him, closer than she'd ever been before. Without any sort of preamble she took his chin into her hands and held his head steady, then she turned his head from one side, then the other... As if he was some sort of... Test subject, or a particularly interesting piece of fruit.

"Fascinating..." The Princess mumbled distantly, stepping back and reaching into her back pocket. She quickly withdrew a small notebook and pencil, then opened it to the middle page and began jotting something down. "When did the fangs emerge, and how long have you been... Spontaneously combusting? Your Mother mentioned neither of these symptoms."

Her flat tone was once again difficult to discern, but Spike once again could tell the Princess was anything by aloof. Despite the otherwise calm demeanor, several hairs had fallen down into her face, and Spike could've sworn she was fidgeting from one foot to another... As with most things relating to the Princess body language, each movement was almost imperceptibly minute. Her nostrils flared, her eyebrows twitched downwards several times. Was she... Was she having a panic attack? Surely not...

"I dunno, maybe ten minutes ago?" Spike answered, though the vagueness of the answer wasn't enough for the Princess. "I haven't told Mom because she's already worried about me enough as it is... I asked if I could join the Navy, she said no, it got a little heated..." The young man put a hand on his stomach and grimaced. "I came up to lay down, and since then it feels like I've got a belly full of molten lead, but it only stops hurting when I'm on this bed in particular. Any other place I sit or lay down it keeps hurting, strangest thing I ever saw..." Spike continued, and to his sudden surprise Orzel huffed with evident annoyance and knelt on the floor. Once again, without any preamble, she peered under his bed. "What are you doing?"

The Princess response was to shush him, she actually shushed him! In his own room! Spike supposed he should've been used to that by now, she could be a tad... Intense when the pressure was on. One time, she'd actually crushed a pair of her dice to colorful powder during a particularly close O&O battle with a tyrant king. Bearing that in mind, Spike made no move to stop her. With little fanfare the Princess stood back to her full limited height and returned her hands to her hips. Despite her stature, the look she gave him was nonetheless severe, as if he'd missed something that should've been patently obvious.

"It is no wonder you feel better on this bed. This is where you keep your hoard." She stated bluntly, Spike's only response was to stare at her dumbly. "Your hoard... Your collection of things that are precious to you." Again, Spike just stared at her, and to his continuing amazement the girl rolled her eyes, this was the most expressive he'd seen her in a long time. "You are dragon, tak? You know what hoard is?" So evident was her frustration that her accent actually started to slip. "Is not important." She continued before Spike could answer. "You are not well, and you sit here... Not wanting ask for Mother's help. Why? You want to be big tough guy?! Your clothes burn if you stand, and you live inside giant tree! You want to burn house down over being big tough guy? Is how you become big bezdomny guy. That what you want? Tak lub nie?"

The Princess began pacing, scribbling more in her notebook with each passing moment, the look of stoicism gradually being replaced by one of deeply troubled concern. Not the sort of controlled concern that Spike expect of a Princess either, but actual legitimate worry over his health... That was to be expected, he supposed, as the two of them were very close... Come to think of it, he'd been ruminating on that particular subject just as the pain in his gut started. Unaware of that realization on his part, Orzel now commenced muttering in Szafirian. By now, Spike had absorbed enough of the Princess's language to understand a few sentences. It was really only when she peppered Equestrian and Szafirian together that he struggled.

"How can he be so smart and so foolish at the same time? Does he enjoy making me worry?" The Princess stopped abruptly, then pointed squarely at Spike's chest. Restoring her mask of calm, she switched back to Equestrian, unaware that Spike had understood what she said. "You stay here, tak? Is order, unless you want to set fire to house." Spike just stared at the Princess, once again absolutely dumbfounded that she could bounce from one train of thought to another so quickly... Sort of like Twilight, now that he thought about it. She opened the door to his bedroom, exiting just as swiftly as she'd entered. "Miss Sparkle!" Her voice grew distant, accompanied by the sound of creaking steps.

Spike groaned loudly, once again attempting to rise to his feet, only for his jacket to actually catch fire this time. He quickly sat back on the bed, beating the flames out, though not without first creating a considerable plume of smoke. His thoughts returned to what the Princess had said about his 'hoard'... While he was aware that most dragons liked to keep large piles of gold and jewels around to lounge upon, it was something he'd not actually ever considered for himself. The things he kept under his bed were certainly precious to him, and among other things included souvenirs he'd taken from a few adventures he'd accompanied Twilight on...

The more he thought about it, the more the sensation in his gut began to make sense. He was hungry, but it wasn't for food, it was for stuff... Stuff that intrinsically wasn't worth much, but he wanted it all the same. He just didn't get it. Just that day he'd given a perfectly ripened fire ruby to Rarity, he'd been saving that ruby for months, just waiting for the proper time to eat it... Only to give it away? On its surface it certainly wasn't a very 'Dragon' thing of him to do, but... Maybe it was? Maybe, in being selfless he was also being selfish? In a good way. What was most precious to him? Was it gold? No... Jewels? Evidently not, seeing as he'd given up the fire ruby.

The door to his room was once again pushed open, and in stepped both Twilight and Orzel. Once again, the visible portions of the Princess's face were set with distinct worry... Twilight meanwhile was carrying a fire extinguisher, appearing far calmer now than she had before, but she too was the very picture of maternal concern. In that briefest of moments, less than a fraction of a second, it felt as if the stars had aligned, granting the young man a guiding bolt of clarity. The things that were most precious to him weren't gold or jewels, they weren't any sort of gaudy bauble or paltry trinket of splendor...

Physical treasures could be lost and replaced, but those souvenirs he'd taken couldn't, nor could the care he saw each day in the eyes of his family and friends. People that only a short time ago he'd feared might shun him if they truly understood who and what he was... While others might not be so trustworthy, Spike was fortunate enough to have become acquainted with more than a handful of people worthy of his trust... There was nothing that could be finer than that trust and the treasured relationships he'd built for himself, nothing more valuable than the benevolence and altruism of friendship.

Well... Almost nothing, a little gold certainly couldn't hurt, among other things... He was getting off track, then again Spike supposed that was just the fickle nature of clarity. Even that thought was shaken from him by the dawning understanding that his hoard was already exceptionally large, even if physically it was relegated to a mere couple shoe boxes of trinkets. Just like that, the discomfort in his stomach all but evaporated.

"I'm actually feeling a lot better now, really." Spike protested, once again standing up. Twilight abruptly directed the nozzle of the fire extinguisher at him, but refrained from spraying him when no further smoke or flame manifested. "Mind over matter, y'know?" As if choreographed, both his Mom and the Princess leaned their heads forward, peering at him over the rims of their glasses... "Honest! See? No flames." Spike insisted, gesturing to himself in general. Twilight handed the fire extinguisher off to Orzel, then stepped forward and put her hand on his forehead.

"He's cool..." Twilight confirmed, sighing with relief and offering a small smile. "Good thing, too... The Princess was worried we'd need to spray you down with fire retardant foam and toss you out the window..." Spike couldn't tell if she was joking to lift his spirits or legitimately serious judging by the presence of the extinguisher it might've been a bit of both. She knew that he knew that he'd be perfectly fine if he fell out the window, he was a Dragon after all. Better a little discomfort and broken glass than a house fire. "Might be best to keep that here... Just in case." The woman gestured to the extinguisher, which Orzel set gently beside Spike's desk. "If you'll excuse me, I still have some things to get ready. Open the window, and make sure this door stays open, get some of this smoke out of here."

"Okay, Mom..." Spike agreed, walking over to the window and undoing the latch, then sliding it upward. He heard Twilight mumble something, followed by Orzel humming in agreement, though what it was she was agreeing with was unknown. The young man turned around just as Twilight was making her way out, the chilly outside air rushing in while the warm smokey air rushed out. Orzel had taken a seat on the edge of Spike's bed, where she always sat, whilst Spike took possession of his desk chair. "So..." He started stiffly. "How has your day been, my Lady?" As was the case so many times, Spike saw just the fainted hint of a blush spread across the Princess's cheeks... Something about that made him feel better, though for the life of him he couldn't say exactly why.

"Busy... I was taking inventory of my workshop, then a matter came up that required some attention." Orzel's answer was characteristic vague, yet another facet Spike all but expected of their friendship. He knew well enough by now that there were just some aspects of the Princess's life that she couldn't share, no matter how much the girl herself might've wanted to, particularly those pertaining to national security. "I am more interested in what you mentioned earlier, that you asked your Mother's permission to enlist early. I did not think you would actually do so on your birthday, it seems improper for what I am told is supposed to be a festive ritual."

Spike by now was almost an expert in 'Orzel-ese', the translation of the Princesses often verbose and strict manner of speaking. Translated into normal-speak, it amounted more to 'What were you thinking telling your Mom you want to join the Army on your Birthday? Isn't that a bit of a mood killer?'.

"I don't know, I guess just wanted to get started as soon as possible." Was Spike's reply as he spun aimlessly in his seat, taking a moment to remove his now charred hoodie. It was already a little chilly in the room as is, but now he was reduced to wearing only a t-shirt and jeans... Not that it mattered, he had a particularly active inner flame today, after all. "I get that she's worried about me, and she made some really, really, good points, but... I still feel like I could be doing more good out there fighting pirates than I can here, putting away romance novels." Orzel looked at him for a few moments, then turned her attention to the floor.

"My father used to fight pirates." She stated somewhat seriously, fidgeting on the edge of the bed. "I never knew him before he was in the service of the Imperial Armada. Once, he told me it was like fighting the ocean itself." Orzel looked out the window at the chilly winter afternoon, the sun already starting to dip in the sky. "He sank or captured hundreds of pirate and privateer ships, but there were always more to take their place... It is difficult for me to recall times when he would smile." The girl turned her eyes back to Spike, staring into him with those intense emerald orbs of light.. "I think your Mother was right to deny your request."

This one was a little tricky for Spike to decipher, but he was pretty sure it meant something along the lines of 'My Dad joined the Navy, he was very good at his job, but it took a toll on him. I'm glad you're not joining, because I care too much about you to see the same thing happen to you.'... To that, Spike had little in the way of a response. As he'd said, Twilight already made a lot of good points... It was one thing to think he could do the job, it was another to actually see it through.

"You already do your nation a great service, and I do not mean only in the efficiency with which you process books." Orzel continued somewhat seriously, oblivious to Spike's inner dialogue with himself. "Everyone hears of the exploits of great heroes, but few ever mention the people that help them be heroes. Practically, there is no such thing as a 'One Man Army'..." Orzel peered about the room, her eyes settling on the latest figurine Spike was in the process of painting. "Look at him... Without his armor, his weapon, food or water, he would be hard pressed to defeat a giant rat, let alone an evil wizard." Spike looked at the figurine for himself, rubbing his slightly stubbly chin, his new fangs now digging into his skin. "Twilight is able to save Equestria with her friends because she has you to aid her. I am likewise better able to attend to my duties because of our continued... Correspondence..." Spike turned his attention back to the Princess, she was looking away from him again, once again flushed.

"I'm sure you both could manage without me." The young man's disbelieving tone was a little disingenuous... While he was quite certain Twilight and Orzel would get on fine without his help, he also understood that they had come to rely on him for help and advice respectively. "Are you sure you're not just saying this because Twilight asked you earlier to talk be out of joining up in a year?"

"She asked nothing of the sort, only that I make sure you are still feeling well. Even if she had, I would not do so..." The Princess trailed off, looking at the floor. "I trust you enough to tell you things I might not mention to someone else. Short of my family, there is only one other person on this planet with which I share anything near that of trust... If you still believe it the proper course to enlist next year, I will therefore trust that you believe wholeheartedly in your decision." Orzel began fiddling slightly with the ends of her sleeves, then twiddling her thumbs. "As I have said in the past, you are... Important to me."

Spike stared at the Princess for a few moments, his mind sorting through everything she'd just said, trying to find a thread. It took him a moment to process, but in the end he translated it to mean something as simple as. 'You're my best friend.'... The more he examined Orzel, however, the more that spark from earlier began to flourish... What if this was her way of confirming what he suspected...? Spike dared not hope that was the case, because frankly, he wouldn't know what to do with that information either way. There was another option, one that seemed just as likely, if not more so... Maybe Twilight put Orzel up to this, to try and talk him out of joining up when he turned eighteen. Spike doubted the Princess would do that, but he couldn't be sure either. Once again, caution and discretion seemed the better parts of valor, so the young man opted not to pursue either theory in detail.

"Then I'll continue to stay right here, for the time being at least... Faithfully and efficiently sorting Bit-a-dozen romance novels and pulp science-fiction, administering late fees, and keeping careful records of all that goes on in these hallowed halls." Spike offered with a tone of obviously overdone urbanity, closing by bringing a hand to his chest and bowing his head with exaggerated solemnity towards the Princess. "I shall do these things heedless of paper cuts, heavy book returns, and the other maladies that might fell other, lesser, librarians than myself... All for Crown and Country!"

The two of them shared a brief chuckle at the over-the-top delivery, or at least as close to a chuckle as Orzel ever allowed herself... Then, somewhat abruptly, the room lapsed into a slightly awkward silence afterwards. The only noise that persisted came from the rushing winter breeze, clearing the air of the last vestiges of smoke. The Princess watched the dwindling wisps as they were carried outside, allowing Spike to observe her without fear of her noticing. Her mask of stoicism was, by now, as easy to read as an open book. Even with the lower portion of her face concealed, it was obvious that she was fascinated by those few ethereal tufts of smoke that remained.

"If I might ask you something personal, my Lady..." Spike's tone was a little more serious, and the question itself quickly brought Orzel's full attention back to him. "Why do you wear your scarf like that...? You didn't before." Orzel stared at him for a few moments, then looked at the floor, bringing a hand to the portion of her scarf that covered the lower part of her face...

"I... I suppose I just want to look my best... When I am out and about." The Princess began tentatively, after a few tense moments her eyes returned to Spike, and in them he saw the Princess to be in a deeply vulnerable state of mind. She quietly shook her head, as if she wanted to say something more, but... Couldn't. "The details are unimportant, especially with the upcoming festivities." Spike was about to insist that she could tell him, regardless of what day it was, but the Princess plowed ahead before he could speak. "Speaking of which, do you happen to know if Miss Rarity will be in attendance today? I wanted to ask her opinion on what dyes are most resistant to wear and tear."

The young man pursed his lips, silently wishing he could convey what he felt... Then again, he didn't even grasp what he felt himself. Disappointment, but not in the Princess or himself, rather just the situation as a whole. For as much as Orzel had let him past her defenses, as much as she trusted him, she'd yet to fully let him in. She'd been so close in that moment... Perhaps next time... For now, Spike wasn't inclined to push for details, especially considering all that'd happened in just the past hour and a half. Though the odd sensation was all but dissipated, he still felt as if something was stirring... Changing... Deep down. Gradually he was feeling stronger, more powerful, both physically and mentally. It was a rush he was having trouble keeping in check, let alone attempt to convince Orzel to speak further... So, Spike merely nodded his head at the question, resting his hands in his lap.

"Yes, my Lady, I'm quite certain she'll be here." The young man answered evenly, once again he saw the Princess's face flush. At least that hadn't changed...

Chapter 17

High above the unassuming world, a cold wind blew upon the mountain capital of Equestria. It was as harsh as it was frigid, and it carried with it the first sweeping snows of winter. Even with the powerful magic used to keep the storms in check, this one proved an exceptionally potent maelstrom. Within the first hour, the snow reached a depth of a foot, continuing to fall at rates much faster than the city's plows could keep up. This had plunged Canterlot into grid lock of epic proportions, and more or less rendered the entire metropolis paralyzed. Winter had arrived in all its terrible fury, fed both by a still chaotically charged atmosphere and shoddy quality control at the Cloudsdale 'Weather Factory'. Orzel had little reason to doubt such a place existed, even if she'd never seen it...

Things weren't all bad, however, as soon Hearth's Warming Eve would be upon the world, and a year that had been marked with countless periods of uncertainty and strife would come to a grateful conclusion. It's final months hadn't been as quiet as many might've hoped, but at least those few speed bumps had been mild. For Orzel, oddly enough, life had become markedly simpler in many ways... In others, however, it'd become both increasingly complex and confusing. For one thing, Mother had all but come out and said that Orzel didn't need to keep doing her lessons... Both Mother and Aunt Celestia had become even more supportive of Orzel's work at her workshop, even encouraging her to sleep overnight at Maksym Field if necessary.

The reason as to why remained unclear, both Mother and Aunt Celestia were more tight lipped than ever, and yet... They weren't. Every now and then they'd mention something to do with weapons design, nothing too overt, but just enough to get Orzel's mind pondering the possibilities. What was more, they'd all but given their approval for Orzel to begin working on projects of a less than defensive nature... The girl took this to mean that they were tacitly alright with her tinkering with the weapons and other assorted pieces of military hardware she'd recently come into possession of.

When all of her inventories had been completed, Orzel discovered that in addition to the original bunker there were two other storage bunkers that contained arms and munitions, including examples of SMGs and handguns, revolvers and semi-automatic alike. The rest of the bunkers were filled with a prodigious number of mostly mundane things. These included, but weren't limited to, assorted uniforms, web belts, helmets, holsters, berets, bandages, boots, gas masks, training grenades, and a hundred-thousand pairs of government issue socks.

There were some bizarre combinations of oddities thrown in for good measure, including one bunker that contained half a dozen hollowed out naval artillery shells, a truck originating from the Imperial Griffon Army, and three fifty-five gallon drums labeled 'Assorted Preserved Fish Offal'... Orzel could only speculate as to what the intended purpose of these assorted oddities were, but... Nothing she could think of explained the need for one-hundred-sixty-five gallons of seafood byproducts.

Evidently the DAC agreed with the absurdity of the find, and the media had picked up the story about the Army losing several million dollars worth of arms and ammunition, not just at Maksym Field but at other abandoned facilities as well. As of that moment, a crack team of exigent fusspots were pouring over the various books of each military branch, combing through with the finest of combs, turning every stone, picking at every nit...

Orzel, meanwhile, was left wondering just what she was supposed to do with so much equipment. It seemed obvious at first, just auction it off in lots, but... Another part of her thought it might be worth it to rent a storefront in nearby Ponyville, at least as far as selling the weapons were concerned. Speaking of which, she'd already learned a great deal from the examples she'd gotten her hands on... The AARs, for example, were indeed quite heavy... Not so much for her, but certainly for some of the Nocturne Agents that she'd had test fire them. Oddly, while keeping and tinkering with the weapons was apparently fine now, actually firing them for herself was still considered 'off limits'...

What she'd learned through mere examination was that the .30-06 was effective out to a range of a thousand yards, and it was that sheer amount of power that was proving so difficult to counter in terms of body armor design. The issue was that after action reports, supplied by the Lone Star Territorial Garrison and various Lone Star militias, indicated that most engagements with raiders from the Southern Dragonlands took place at a maximum of three-hundred yards. Further examinations of several coups and civil wars in Zebrica backed those numbers up.

Overall, the rounds currently employed were therefore over penetrating their targets, retaining much of its energy and zipping through cleanly, rather than dumping all of its energy into the target and cavitating. Of course, this was also influenced by the size of the actual target. .30-06 was quite effective against extremely large targets, such as elk, bears, or other big game, because they had enough mass and density to decelerate the round...

As Orzel stared out into the driving snow, it was hard not to feel a sensation of coldness down her spine. Not since the death of Sokol had she given such thought to the lethality of things, she'd certainly never pondered just how to kill someone most efficiently in such mechanical detail... Or any detail, for that matter. The Princess believed planes and aircraft carriers would dominate the air over land and sea, but she hadn't considered what that actually meant... It was easy to strategize and design when the enemy was just numbers on a piece of paper, but the reports she'd examined included those of coroners, and she'd seen the very real, very gruesome wounds bullets could inflict... The autopsy photographs that accompanied them, especially those taken using color film, called back a whole host of sorrowful memories...

So, why then, was Orzel so focused on maximizing the lethality of those wounds? The reasoning was very simple... Not all of the dead were raiders or soldiers, nor were they all fighters of some far off civil conflict in Zebrica... No, a good many of those corpses she'd seen were farmers, ranchers, store owners... Members of the Lone Star Rangers and local militias, the groups that often had to deal with raiders on their own, with no aid from the Territorial Garrisons or regular Army. They were wives and husbands, people with children, and extended families... Killed, defending themselves and their communities from bands of criminals that would just as soon loot and burn a village as look at it.

Those innocent lives that'd been lost were the lives of Orzel's subjects, the people she'd resolved to defend to the utmost, even at the expense of her own life... Or her conscience. She would've done anything to prevent those lives from having been lost, even go and fight herself, but... To do so would present the unacceptable risk, the Nocturne Agency would never allow an opportunity for the raiders to potentially capture a Princess. Were it up to her, the threat of the raiders would've been dealt with swiftly and severely. It was one of the few policies of the Empire she actually agreed with...

Any nation in the Old World that dared to so much as lay a finger upon a Szafirian citizen could expect nothing less than the full and terrible weight of the Imperial War Machine to come crashing down upon them... Many a nation had tried, and many a nation had failed, to test that policy... But the matter wasn't up to Orzel to decide, not yet at any rate. Mother and Celestia were wary of potentially invoking retaliation of the Southern Dragonlands, and most of the country agreed... It wasn't Equestria's fight, it was Lone Star's. Why risk more lives when the situation was already being 'handled'?

So Orzel couldn't go to fight for her people, nor could she send troops to wipe out the raiding clans once and for all. That left only one option. If she couldn't defend her subjects in the flesh, she could at least give them better tools to do the job themselves. Designing a round that would be lighter, and kill the enemy faster, might decrease the number of lives lost to enemy action... Maybe, in the face of increasing casualties, the raiders would finally stop coming altogether. Maybe they'd finally die out, or turn against one another instead... Orzel would've have minded them becoming someone else's problem, so long as Equestrian lives were preserved.

So far, Orzel found that she liked the weight afforded by the .30 caliber bullet, but that the amount of propellant and size of the .30-06 cartridge itself were both superfluous. The Princess's potential solution was an intermediate cartridge, firing the same bullet but from a smaller cartridge, as it wouldn't require a change in the milling, rifling, and other assorted machinery already in use throughout the military's arsenals... It would also simplify development, considering that these were the same machines present at Maksym Field. A new cartridge design was only half of the solution, as Orzel didn't have a weapons platform to actually fire her theoretical cartridge, which she'd dubbed in her notes as either '.30 Basilisk Short', or the more scientific '7.62x39mm', she wasn't sure which she was more partial to yet.

That wasn't to say Orzel didn't have a few ideas in mind, because she did... She'd sketched a few potential prototypes, everything from a modification to the existing bolt-action rifle to a potential conversion of existing AARs. Her favorite of them all, primarily because of the difficulty the design presented, was one which could have its rate of fire adjusted somehow... Perhaps through a knob or a lever? Something that could allow one soldier the close range versatility of an automatic weapon like a submachine gun and the long range accuracy of a rifle or carbine... A rifle that could allow one man to assault an enemy position with the firepower of a fire team...

That particular design was, at this point, purely conceptual speculation... After all, Mother would never allow her to begin weapons research in earnest before she was an adult. She was at least getting some experience through her tinkering, but all of her designs would need to remain constrained to the realm of the theoretical for the foreseeable future.

Orzel sighed, shaking her head and looking about her surroundings, listening briefly to the indistinct chatter of the Officers and Officials that meandered about the Castle ballroom. There were no festivities underway at present, so the space was all but empty, save a few tables and folding chairs. As such, it served perfectly as the place from which Operation Firewatch might be conducted. All told, it represented perhaps the largest command meeting in the modern history of Equestria's armed services. These men and woman, gathered in that typically cheerful space, were feverishly, and fruitlessly, coordinating with one another as a microcosm of what Equestria's overall command structure would look like in the event of a total catastrophe.

Judging by the large amount of officers standing off to one side or another, the vast majority as a matter of fact, the current scenario was unfolding just as Orzel had expected. The simulations so far had been based around several different threats, ranging from a foreign invasion, an earthquake and subsequent tsunami, and a myriad of others. Each time the simulation was reset and rerun, though on occasion one or two additional threats were tossed in, just to add that much more chaos and confusion to the mix.

The ballroom's tables were set up now to represent the various Government Branches involved in the crisis, as well as provisions for the Media and the Public, though these were part of the simulation as well. At the center of the bustling chamber, Orzel laid eyes upon a map she'd meticulously crafted to be as accurate to Equestria's overall land mass as dragonly possible. It was dotted with every village, town, municipality, transportation artery and military installation currently on record. The original map had since been expanded upon by way of transmutation magic, to a point it'd grown so large that it took up a good portion of the ballroom's dance floor.

Orzel's lab coat fluttered quietly as she moved away from the window, returning to stride along the outside of the model, watching as glowing red orbs hovered above various cities and military bases. These were provided by Piercing Gaze's, wearing a black suit and tie like that of Director Orcus and nearly every other Nocturne Agent in attendance. The man stared about the map in quiet contemplation, displaying the same cold concern he'd shown when the Firewatch Scenarios had first started several days ago. The glint of the glowing orbs refracted in his glasses, further influenced by the small wisps of smoke trailing upwards from the cigar resting between his lips.

"I can't help but wonder what might've been avoided if we'd had such planning sessions in Old Equestria." Piercing mumbled, clasping his hands behind his back as one of the red orbs gradually ballooned in size, accompanied by several chirping beeps that might not've sounded out of place in a science fiction radio play. "We might very well be on the moon by now." He added, examining the map in that peculiar interested way of his. "Your 'thorough exploration' of all the possible disasters we're running through appears to be the cause for a lot of concern."

Orzel nodded silently, absently brushing a lock of hair back behind her ear, then sighing through her nose. She cast a quick glance across the room to a table, behind which sat Mother, Aunt Celestia, and Cousin Cadence. Blueblood, meanwhile was meandering off in the corner, chatting up a couple Army Generals. All members of the Crown had volunteered to take part in the exercise, despite its lengthy schedule, because their responses would add to the further realism and validity of the test results. The entire experience was visibly taxing on the lot of them, with perhaps the exception of Orzel herself... She didn't blame them...

"How many deaths so far?" Orzel asked in Szafirian, sighing through her nose.

"Too many." Came Piercing's measured response, also in Szafirian, watching as the orb once again grew in size. The spheres were more for the purpose of gauging the disaster's effects in simulated time, such as deaths and other casualties, rather than part of the disaster itself. Slipping back into Equestrian, he continued. "Manehattan's become a virtual ghost town, Canterlot isn't far off, and Applewood..." The man shook his head. "Total loss... Though, this is honestly what I expected. Diseases are such insidious things..."

"Indeed, I recall the time that..." Orzel began, only to trail off, recalling one particular winter in Cesarski, before shaking her head... It wasn't worth mentioning. "Obviously no disease we know of will have such a drastic mortality rate as the one proposed in my scenario, so I take some comfort in that, but it is nonetheless unsettling." She paused momentarily. "What do you suppose it is like in that Nightmare World we have created? When our simulation has run its course, what sort of people would come out of it alive?"

"None, I should think, it is a simulation after all." Piercing mused, rubbing his chin. Orzel knew that the man understood what she meant, he was far too smart not to.

The strange scholar had rapidly gone from unknown wild card to acquaintance, and now held a place as one of Orzel's few 'colleagues'. He seemed to enjoy the idea of sharing his insights about the strange world the two now found themselves in, and Orzel didn't care to stop him. His grasp of Szafirian and applied engineering principles of the modern era was, frankly, astounding... The man's knowledge of the arcane was likewise greatly larger than Orzel's, and that made him a font of knowledge in her continuing efforts to turn the field of Enchanting into a respectable science. So, while Piercing was by no means a trusted confidant, Orzel had come to see him as a sort of 'amiable professor'...

"The strongest and the smartest would survive, those that can band together for safety, or for lethality." The scholar further expanded on his earlier none answer. "As it stands, the Government is rather powerless, and I suspect once the disease has 'burned itself out' the world would be left in a far more anarchic state." He paused, humming to himself. "Eventually Equestria's government will recover, but what sort of government that will be is hard to say... With all that's been lost."

People of the Alicorn species were generally immune to disease, so the majority Equestria's most senior leadership hadn't suffered too greatly, at least on paper. Orzel and Piercing weren't Alicorns, though... It wasn't exactly clear to the girl what Piercing actually was, either. He was a Spell-Caster, but something more than that, and Orzel had to wonder if he'd actually be susceptible to disease. In the context of this simulation he was, they both were... For all intents and purposes, Orzel and Piercing Gaze had 'died' of the disease early into the ongoing simulation... Hence, much like the many officers and officials that were also 'dead', they had little to do but observe and chat amongst themselves.

Orzel cast another look at Luna, whose features remained stoic, despite what terrible thoughts obviously must have been troubling her. Inwardly the girl couldn't help some sensation of guilt for putting her Mother through such a brutal scenario, but she took consolation in the knowledge that what they suffered through today would go towards ensuring such a grim future never came to pass. Glancing at a clock on the wall, Orzel was at least pleased to see the simulation would end shortly, just prior to twelve o'clock noon. There were perhaps ten minutes left, then Operation Firewatch would conclude, and the staggeringly difficult task of tabulating the results could begin.

Already there were clear steps that needed to be taken, such as the construction of several Trans-National Highways, both from East to West and North to South. It would be a costly endeavor, but a lack of reliable paved roads had resulted in unforgivable delays delivering emergency relief to vital areas of the country. In the 'Invasion Scenario', it likewise had hindered the Equestrian Military's ability to move troops in effective fashion. Command structures would be reworked, bureaucratic communication channels bypassed, to be eventually cut out entirely...

Firewatch, in consort with the ongoing Logistics Scandal, would spell doom for dozens of useless or otherwise redundant agencies. That, unfortunately, meant there would be a great many bureaucrats now looking for work. The positive side was that the Trans-National Highway would likely create a considerable amount of jobs, both in its' design, construction and maintenance... The Highways, however, were just one of countless other improvements and changes that needed to be made.

The further changes would hopefully be overseen by the virtually guaranteed creation of the 'Civil Defense Agency'. Volunteer fire departments would be established, while auxiliary police and rescue responders would be recruited... Evacuation routes would be mapped and clearly marked, and a nationwide 'Crisis Alert System' would be created. It would allow the CDA to broadcast warnings and information bulletins directly into the home and automobile radios of every Equestrian within range, granting advanced warning... Ensuring, hopefully, that no Equestrian would ever endure the terror of sudden chaos. The girl still recalled the close margin by which she and Sokol reached the Vindictan Temple, if they'd had even a few extra minutes, Sokol might still be alive.

Orzel wished she could say she was pleased, but at the end of the day, Firewatch was only the beginning. It was one thing for everything to work on paper, but as any tinkerer or inventor would be all too aware of, what worked on paper seldom worked in practice. Now began the most difficult facet of all, getting all the gears to fit together properly... Barring any unseen interruptions or interference, Lexicos willing, Orzel would have them all running as smoothly and efficiently as a masterfully crafted watch. A dull low klaxon alarm echoed through the room as the clock struck twelve, and Orzel realized she'd been staring at the map for those final ten minutes.

"The simulation has ended! All personnel, gather your results and submit them for review prior to exiting the chamber!" An Officer bellowed through the room, Piercing meanwhile waved his hand, dismissing the glowing orbs from the map. The room was bathed in more indistinct chatter, far less gloomy than it had been a few minutes before, still Orzel's eyes remained fixed on the map... At least until she felt a pair of powerful arms yank her into a hug, nearly knocking her spectacles from her face in the process. Luna had crossed the distance unseen, and was currently in the process of crushing her daughter.

A flood of shame washed over Orzel, her Mother was practically shaking, and it was all her fault... She suspected this wasn't unlike some of the times Spike had described to her, now that she thought about it, and that made it sting all the more.

"I am sorry..." Orzel apologized quietly after Mother eventually let go, the girl's eyes cast downward. "I did not take into account-"

"Stop." Sternly commanded Mother, sniffling slightly, still resting a hand on the girl's shoulder. "Loss and failure are the most potent of teachers, so you will not blame yourself for any discomfort on anyone's part. This is a lesson that needed to be learned." She further declared, taking Orzel by surprise... Had she just been ordered not to feel guilty? Apparently so. Mother adjusted her gown, looking between her daughter and Piercing. "Your 'Operation Firewatch' was an unfortunate necessity, I am afraid... Now we see how vulnerable we have truly become." She took on a warm smile. "What we glean from this simulation will significantly aid us in future planning... Your scenarios were quite challenging to untangle, I commend your commitment to brutal difficulty."

"Thank you, Mother..." The young Princess nodded solemnly, before once again fussing with a few loose strands of hair. "What of my proposed agency? I presume you and Aunt Celestia have come to a decision." The woman nodded quietly, her smile moderating as several Generals and a few Colonels wandered past, discussing the latest findings in hushed furious whispers.

"We have decided that your 'Civil Defense Agency' is a necessary step towards better preparing Equestria in these uncertain times." Mother agreed more seriously, clasping her hands behind her back. "Celestia hopes that it will be a step towards bolstering public confidence, and the Trans-National Highway project will better reinforce the economy." The woman cast a glance to Celestia and Cadence, the two of whom were currently talking among one another. Orzel got the feeling that there was something her Mother wasn't telling her, judging by a brief guilty look back at the map, then once more at her. "This 'CDA' will need a head, have you given thought to who you would like to appoint? It is your agency, after all, and I assume you have some preference." Orzel paused for a moment, the thought of who would lead such an agency was indeed something she'd considered in detail. There were a few candidates that stuck out to her, though she wondered how Mother would feel about them.

One option was, oddly, Miss Twilight Sparkle... She'd been at the heart of a lot of the most recent crises, and therefore had the sort of experience facing villainous threats that would be necessary to prepare for them. That she shared Orzel's commitment to the cause of keeping Equestria safe further endeared Twilight, but... She was inexperienced with the terrifyingly byzantine bureaucracy of Equestria's government, and while change would come, that change would take time... Time enough to drive the young woman undoubtedly mad, as few sane persons could ever rightly deal with the various procedures, agencies, forms, and codes.

The second choice was Doctor Shiroi Hana, an expat from the distant island of Tennoshima. Doctor Hana was better versed in the handling of natural disasters, and even helped during several instances where a giant lizard had laid siege to her country's capital city... She currently taught courses on Emergency Management as a visiting scholar for the University of Canterlot, which made her at least tangentially familiar with the inner workings of Equestria's government. In fact, a great deal of the simulation mechanics drew inspiration from Doctor Hana's work, published in several well esteemed, but admittedly esoteric, scientific journals.

Lastly there was former General Forthright, now currently commanding the Lone Star Homeguard... A competent military commander, but highly aggressive and territorial, which might make him difficult for his subordinates to communicate with. Communication would prove vital in an emergency, and any delay due to a conflict of personalities or ego might cost lives. Therefore, Orzel came to the conclusion that of her short-list, it could only be Doctor Hana to lead the CDA, as much as she might've liked Miss Twilight Sparkle. Truth be told, Orzel felt the woman would be more beneficial to Equestria remaining unhindered by the responsibilities that would come with running a government Agency. She was an Element Bearer, and a librarian, after all.

"Doctor Shiroi Hana, currently working at the University of Canterlot." Orzel declared with a bit more confidence, putting her hands on her hips. "She should make a fine..." The teen paused, pondering just what sort of title to confer upon the head of her new agency.

'Director' was one option, but she'd come to associate the title with Director 'Orcus', as he fancied himself now. Whatever he called himself, the Director of the Nocturne Agency had failed to inform her of vital information, and just hearing the title brought up unpleasant memories. There was also the ever infuriating fact that despite countless months of requests and outright orders, the man had yet to release the remains of Sokol, or any of the personal effects currently interred by the Nocturne Agency... Piercing's case certainly wasn't helped by his being so friendly with the enigmatic Director, yet another road bump to using the title. Seeing this as another opportunity to further cement her authority in the eyes of the public, and in consideration that the new CDA would be a paramilitary organization, Orzel opted for something a bit more appropriate.

"Grand Marshal of Public Safety." Orzel concluded with a slight nod, Mother paused for a moment, visibly pondering the title for herself. "That is, of course, if she accepts the position. I may need time to select an alternative, should she decline."

"Very well, we shall make the offer once the organization effort is completed." Mother declared, her eyes locking briefly with Piercing's, as if they were holding some unspoken conversation. That was yet another of the changes Orzel had noticed of her Mother, that strange ability to communicate non-verbally, in a manner that the girl couldn't discern for herself. "In the meantime, I for one have grown weary of contemplating Armageddon. Is it safe to assume the same for the two of you?" Piercing shrugged while Orzel looked back to her map, uncertain as to how the map would be removed from the ballroom at its present size. She didn't want to see it destroyed...

"Never fear, the map will be returned to you intact. There are no further duties for you to perform here today." Luna had always been able to read Orzel's thoughts from the miniscule alterations in her body language, at least that skill hadn't diminished. "I think it prudent that the three of us spend a day together, perhaps to visit the new 'Hall of Engineering' exhibit at the museum?"

Orzel was certainly tempted by that offer, as she suspected Luna wanted her to be. That temptation was tempered by the very real blizzard currently in progress beyond the ballroom windows, which had rendered her journeys to and from Maksym Field so troublesome. Orzel also had the distinct impression that something was amiss, and that her Mother wanted to 'butter her up' in preparation for some revelation of an unpleasant nature.

"Very well..." Orzel conceded, straightening her wizardly robes. "First I must change into something a bit warmer, of course, then I suppose we can get under way." Truth be told, she was quite interested to see the new exhibit, as it promised to contain a whole host of inventions and factory machines at the very cutting edge of technology. Perhaps more importantly, given the amount of stress she'd been under lately, the outing would serve as a balm towards whatever Luna and Piercing were keeping from her. Speculation on just what that entailed was a getting underway, and her overly anxious and active mind was already at work drafting new fears and worries...

The familiar 'tight' feeling of weight took its place atop her shoulders, and the Princess needed to take a moment to close her eyes and think a silent prayer... A prayer for strength, and calm determination, in the face of whatever calamity it was that thus far eluded her. Assuming it had anything to do with the calamity at all, it just as easily could've been some sort of policy problem or domestic political issue. Maybe it was a personal matter, or something that Orzel simply hadn't thought of yet. 'What could it be?' This was the question that plagued her whenever she wasn't working, and here she would likewise find now reprieve. Were the two of them having problems? Would Piercing be leaving? Why did that bother her as much as it did? He was a competent workshop assistant, but hardly irreplaceable...

Other possibilities rose to the surface, each more unpleasant than the last. Thoughts of being cast aside, dormant since her first tentative days accepting Luna as her Mother, clawed their way out from the darkest pit of her subconscious. Mother and Aunt Celestia had been encouraging her to spend more and more time at the workshop, away from Canterlot, away from home... Were they trying to get her used to the idea of not seeing them, in preparation for shipping her off to some boarding school or other far off place?

Surely that wasn't the case... It was nearing Hearth's Warming Eve, after all. A time to be spent among loved ones... At least according to Orzel's research. She liked the holiday, it was far nicer than the Winter Celebrations of the Empire. To be shuffled away at such a time of year, just as she was finally starting to feel comfortable in her routine, would utterly destroy her. These worries went unnoticed by Mother, as Orzel had become quite adept at hiding her fear and anxiety, as that was just one step in better controlling it overall. She had to remind herself that it didn't matter how much she worried now, as nothing would change whatever bad news it was they had to tell her...

Dressed in a leather fur-lined flight suit, bomber jacket, and furry pilot's cap, Luna's daughter looked like a diminutive version of something out of an Army Air Corps recruitment poster. The fur lined collar was pulled up, and in addition to the hat and her typical headscarf, the girl wore a knitted balaclava, coupled with a dense wool scarf wrapped around her neck... Furthermore, a pair of bulky leather flight gloves concealed the girl's hands... This had the effect of rendering Orzel's glowing emerald eyes as the only visible portion of her skin or face. Even under so many layers, several of which were hidden from view by the flight suit, Luna knew that her daughter was most likely still shivering.

Despite that, Luna couldn't see any sign of it in her face... What little of it she could see, at any rate. The woman felt honestly guilty, dragging the girl out into the middle of a blizzard, even if it had moderated in the past couple minutes. By comparison, Luna and Piercing had gotten away with a few woolen jackets and earmuffs, and every person they passed on the sidewalk seemed surprised at Orzel's apparent overdressed appearance. To maintain the fiction of being 'just another family', Luna had restrained her starry hair to its dull light blue coloration, and their security detail generally wore more festive civilian clothing.

They were in the downtown section of Canterlot, nearing the Canterlot National Museum. This area of the city was already decorated for the holidays, with strings of multicolored lights and green wreathes hanging from lamp posts. The sound of joyful Hearth's Warming music wafted from an electronics store, displaying half a dozen various models of radio in its window, and even a few of the newfangled 'televisions'... Luna doubted that it would catch on. After all, why would anyone spend so much money on one 'television' when they could visit a moving picture house for a single bit?

The snow in this portion of the city had been shoveled, for the most part, and ice melted in patches where store owners had cast various handfuls of salt. The museum itself loomed ever closer, or at least its main portion. The structure was just one of nearly a dozen that comprised the entire organization, the largest single body of historical works preserved in the world. There was a popular story that so much existed to see that someone could enter the first building as a child and exit the last as an adult, and still not have seen everything. Everything from Draconic Studies, to Botany, even the fledgling field of study pertaining to 'Enriched Elements' as a sort of 'Reactive Material', so obscure and poorly understood that it had yet to receive an official name.

The falling snow was still in full effect, and traffic didn't permit the use of an automobile or even a horse carriage, not if they wanted to actually get anywhere. It really couldn't be helped, either way... Luna and Piercing had something to tell Orzel that probably was best told away from the regular staff... Especially given certain recent... Revelations. The Changeling Menace had Luna questioning the security of the Castle, add to that the scenarios that had just concluded, and the Princess was feeling exceptionally paranoid. Not telling Orzel about the threat, likewise, was proving difficult to stomach, especially as it pertained to their current outing.

Try as her daughter might, Luna had been able to see the gears turning almost as soon as the girl agreed to their little expedition. Not only was she dragging her exceptionally cold daughter through the snow, Luna had also started another round of worrying. Once again, however, it just couldn't be helped... In this case, Luna wondered if maybe Orzel was right to be worried this time.

A warm gloved hand found its way into Luna's own, squeezing comfortingly, and the woman's eyes fell upon Piercing Gaze. His black woolen overcoat clashed against the frigid white snow lining the sidewalk, but his smile radiated a comforting warmth. Just as the Princess could read her daughter, so too could Piercing read Luna. She stepped slightly closer to the man, her mind turning to the prospect of just coming out and saying what needed to be said then and there. Orzel was just a few feet ahead of them, and the sidewalk was more or less clear at present, save the security detail. Occasionally the girl would look over her shoulder to ensure that her Mother was still there, and it was in one those brief glimpses of restrained anxiety that Luna finally broke.

"Hold a moment..." Luna said evenly, bringing the trio to a halt, with Orzel carefully turning around. The woman looked to Piercing, who bore a questioning glint in his eyes. "She obviously realizes something is amiss, I will not prolong her anxiety another moment." The man looked between her and Orzel, whose eyes bore distinct look that practically screamed 'I knew it!'. Luna stepped forward, crouching so that she could better get on Orzel's eye level, resting a comforting hand on the teen's shoulder. "Orzel, I want to preface this by saying that you did nothing wrong." She felt her daughter tense, and inwardly Luna cursed herself at that. "Celestia and I have decided that, at least for the moment... Canterlot is not the best place for you to be." The girl's eyes widened, and she took a startled step back. "You are not safe here... There is a threat unlike any we have faced before, I cannot say more than this."

"Why not?" Orzel asked with surprising venom, her eyes narrowing. "Have I not shown I am capable of ruling alongside you? I have done all that I can to prove to you that I can do the duties you charge me, even in times of crisis! You need me!"

Luna inwardly cringed, she could see the hurt and betrayal rapidly filling her daughter's eyes, even if the girl's outward demeanor remained less severe. Ironically, Luna hadn't been comfortable with sending her daughter away until the completion of Operation Firewatch... The last simulation had struck exceptionally close to home, with Orzel's simulated 'death' putting into stark realization just how quickly something could happen to her, and how powerless Luna might be to stop it...

"That is exactly why I must send you away." Luna explained, her voice cracking slightly as she contemplated the cost of that final simulation. "I need you safe and sound... I cannot focus on this new threat and be concerned for your safety." It was a tactic that Piercing had suggested she use to convince Orzel, one of the many things he'd gleaned from working with her over the past several weeks. Manipulating her own daughter, even for Orzel's own good, tore at Luna's very soul. To that end, Luna decided to pull out all the stops, and so she laid her last ace on the table. "If something happens in Canterlot that renders Celestia, Cadence and I powerless... You will be the only powerful spell-caster that remains to lead Equestria."

"I am beginning to sense a pattern, Mother. How am I to lead Equestria through a crisis that you refuse to tell me the very nature of?" Orzel flatly pointed out, straightening her posture. "If it is as simple as that, why must it be me? Why not Cousin Cadence?" Her words were trembling, though if it was due to her shaken emotions or simply the chilly winter air was unclear.

Once again, her daughter had a point, but there was good reason Cadence had to remain behind while Orzel had to go... If there were infiltrators within Canterlot, they would undoubtedly grow suspicious if one of the 'Senior' Princesses up and left without good reason. They might go underground, or worse, spring their plan before Equestria would have a chance to respond.

"You will be informed if needed." Luna declared firmly, standing to her full height. "Cadence cannot be the one to leave Canterlot, her departure would draw too much attention." The woman held up a hand, stopping Orzel before she could form a response. "Yes, you would also draw attention, but as is obvious to both of us... You are not suited for winter in Canterlot." Luna's tone grew firm and forceful, as this was one of the few times where no matter what argument Orzel presented, there would be no way of changing her mind. "This is not a topic that is up for debate, Orzel. You will go, end of discussion." Orzel's eyes flashed with indignation, and Luna briefly feared the girl might lash out. Concealed as her face was, this was the most emotive Luna had seen her daughter in a long time.

"Where am I to be sent...?" Orzel practically spat, tucking her hands into her pockets, while her eyes darted towards Piercing with a look of utter contempt... So she'd recognized his influence in Luna's approach after all. The woman could only hope it wouldn't become a point of contention between the two of them. "Some dingy basement? That abandoned 'Castle of the Two Sisters'?" Luna shook her head.

"The Naval Base on Amberjack Island, in the South Luna Sea..." The woman said as gently as she could, but the look of anger in her daughter's eyes didn't diminish. "I know, it is not perfect... But you will be safe there." Like the originally proposed Naval Weapons Station Snowcone, Amberjack Island was one of the most remote Equestrian outpost in the world. Luna had no doubt that her daughter knew exactly where the island was, even if it was so obscure. It served the South Luna Fleet as a refueling depot, and Luna was struck by the irony of a letter Orzel had written some time ago, threatening to send any officer that interfered with the completion of ESS Sokol to that very region.

Perhaps less than six miles long and three miles wide at its largest point, Amberjack Island had a population of less than two thousand people, with the personnel of the Navy Base accounting for half of that number. Much of the island was unexplored, and covered in dense tropical jungle, which Luna hoped would prove more comfortable than the frigid winter temperatures of Canterlot. It was its remoteness, and reasonably insignificant size, that made the Island the perfect candidate for a place to send Orzel. The odds of a Changeling infiltrator being there were astronomically slim...

"Whatever..." Orzel finally grumbled, looking defeatedly at the ground, flakes of snow starting to catch on the furry fringe of her jacket's collar. Luna was frankly surprised at how easily her daughter had agreed, and perhaps a tad suspicious. What really stood out was her latest comment. One word answers of an imprecise nature were highly unusual... "This is stupid... I am going home." The anger had gone, replaced by the typical hollow monotone, still shaken by chittering shivers. The girl turned and started to walk away, but Luna reached out for her, as she had so many times.

"Do not touch me!" The girl snapped harshly, rounding to face Luna while shrugging the hand away. Once again, to the outside observer she would appear deadly calm, but Luna knew her too well for that. "As is so obvious, Hearth's Warming is soon upon us. I am told it is a time to be spent with family! With people we love!" She pointed at Luna. "I had feared, briefly, that you would send me away... Then I thought better of it, because surely my own Mother would not send me away at such a time!" Luna's heart grew heavy, as once again the unvarnished grief manifested itself in her child's eyes. It was more than she could bear.

"I am not sending you away before Hearth's Warming, damn it!" Luna blurted, her voice thundering more loudly than perhaps she'd intended. Her choice of words at the end, likewise, had a stunning effect upon the surprised Orzel. "You did not allow me to finish..." Luna stepped closer, grabbing Orzel by the shoulders, holding her even as the teen tried to pull away. "You will depart on the day after Hearth's Warming, and not a moment before." The girl calmed when she heard that same firm, commanding tone, evidence that Luna meant what she said. "Do you really think I would miss our first such holiday together...?" Orzel stared at her Mother, then shook her head. A myriad of emotions flashed through those expressive glowing orbs, until the anger and panic virtually evaporated from view.

"No... I suppose not..." Orzel managed quietly, kicking slightly at the snow gathering at their feet. "You are certain there is no other way?" Luna nodded solemnly. "I can continue my correspondence with Spike?" The woman hadn't honestly been expecting that question, though she likely should've... Luna doubted she could keep the two from communicating even if she wanted to, which meant she'd need to fall back on an old piece of advice, one that'd seen a lot of use of late. Never give an order you know will be disobeyed. So again, she nodded. "May I continue my work when I get to Amberjack Island?"

That actually brought up another point the woman intended to mention, though she hadn't worked out the logistics of it yet... She still had the commission order provided to her by Director Orcus, containing all the various new bits of equipment he thought might help fight the Changeling Menace, or otherwise modernize the military in general. Most notable of all the various items called for was an underlying emphasis on weight reduction. Lighter uniforms, lighter weapons, lighter ammunition... All of which would make it possible for soldiers to carry more ammunition or other equipment for the same amount of weight, or less weight for greater speed and mobility.

"I would certainly hope so." Agreed Luna, tucking her hands into her jacket pockets. "In fact, there is matter I wished to discuss with you regarding your work. However, now is neither the time, nor the place..." For the first time since their discussion had started, Luna turned to look at Piercing. The man sported a sad smile, his hands tucked into his pockets.

"If I might interject?" Piercing spoke up, then nodded towards the looming museum. "It might be best to get back underway, I'm certain you can continue your discussion far easier once inside." Orzel nodded quietly, looking briefly up at Luna. Despite reining the earlier outburst, it was still obvious that her daughter remained rather upset with her. With time, Luna hoped the teen would come to see that this was the right decision...

As they drew closer to the museum, it was difficult not to feel it was nearly as expansive and sprawling as Canterlot Castle itself. Five stories tall, with an additional four floors under ground, all in service in the preservation of historical relics from across the world and the vast gulf of time. It was here that many well known scholars had discovered their passions, and where the discoveries of said scholars were passed down onto other generations. The main building was fittingly designed with a look of ancient Equestria in mind, with carved marble pillars running along its snowy exterior. A brilliantly executed pedimental carving looked out over the building's approach, depicting a pair of cadre of cavalry with swords raised, each pointing towards an eight-pointed sun.

Together, the trio made their way along, ascending up a considerably tall set of steps before reaching the front doors. Unsurprisingly, Luna found the familiar looming figures of Grim and Fable waiting there, each concealed behind a pillar. Piercing was caught slightly off guard, but Orzel seemed totally unfazed by their presence, though by now Luna supposed that was just her natural state. The two men would never reveal just how they got there, or how they so quickly got anywhere, no matter how many times they were asked. Without hesitation, both men reached out in unison and pulled open the museum's front doors, allowing all three visitors safe passage within.

The warm air of the museum's interior awaited them, as did the scent of aging parchment, musty leather book bindings, and the sharp aroma of pine scented floor cleaner. In spite of the ongoing blizzard, the building nonetheless bustled with activity, as people young and old moved about. Some were evidently scholars, carrying with them tomes or stacks of papers, whilst others were families... A few appeared to be school groups, though Luna couldn't think of any schools that might still be holding classes given the weather.

An absolutely gargantuan domed roof at the center of the atrium was painted with dozens of murals, depicting the history of Equestria throughout the ages... The trials and tribulations, the heroes and the villains, immortalized in vivid color for countless millions of eyes to observe over the course of the thousand years this place had stood. The brush strokes, the shading, the lines and contrast, each masterfully carried out with a steady hand. Luna could've stood there admiring the ceiling alone for hours if she truly wanted, but there was so much more to be seen.

Orzel carefully removed her gloves, hat, balaclava, and extra scarves... These she tucked into the numerous pockets lining the flight suit. Popping her collar back down, the Princess partially unzipped the bomber jacket and straightened her headscarf... Lately she'd opted towards the color black. Luna could hardly believe it, especially considering the flight suit was intended to keep air crews warm at an altitude of over twenty-thousand feet, but Orzel still looked chilly. The girl tucked her hands into her jacket's pockets, peering around the space with a slight familiarity. Luna had once brought Orzel here as an attempt to get her out of the Castle, and while the girl had enjoyed the excursion, she'd not shown any interest in making it a regular one. This outing in particular would be a success so long as she could sooth her daughter's nerves, at least somewhat.

Making their way through the atrium, the trio and the two looming bodyguards passed into a vaulted hallway, one of several branching off throughout the massive complex. This threshold of this hallway in particular was decorated with a series of stylized cogs and gears, as well as a sign comprised of large copper colored letters, proclaiming it to be the 'Hall of Engineering'. Within lay a series of exhibits, from simple steam engines to automobiles, bridges and tunnels to ships and aeroplanes.

A biplane hung suspended by cables overhead, painted in the colors of the Army Air Corps. Luna didn't know what type of aircraft it was, but she had no doubt her daughter did. What'd drawn the girl's immediate attention wans't the aeroplane however, it was an exhibit on internal combustion engines, featuring a radial engine taken from an aeroplane, cut away in places so as to allow onlookers a glimpse of its inner mechanics. In fact, pretty much as the Luna expected, Orzel had whipped out one of her innumerable notebooks and was feverishly scribbling in it. For all the tenseness of the days events, the woman was nonetheless pleased to see a familiar glimmer of excitement in the girl's eyes... She just hoped that it would remained, when all was said and done...

Spike's gaze steadily swept the sleepy town, covered in a healthy helping of pristine white snow. The winds whipped past him, carrying helpless flakes in twisting and turning maelstroms of miniature size. The temperature was easily in the low single digits, making the young man's breath that much more visible as he trudged along. Almost every shop in sight was closed, with market stalls packed up for the duration of the storm. The typical ambling throngs of people were absent today, and only a handful of brave souls dared to venture too far from home. There were a few automobiles that moved purposefully about the town's snow covered streets, intermingling occasionally with motorcyclists, all of whom Spike assumed to be some level of crazy or foolish to ride in such weather...

Then again, regardless of the weather their presence was hardly surprising to Spike, motorcycles were fast becoming an everyday presence in Ponyville. Motorcycles weren't alone in their growing number, recently there'd been an increase in the presence of pickup trucks. Again, that made perfect sense to Spike. Ponyville was a widely agricultural town, and pick up trucks weren't nearly as difficult or as expensive to maintain as a workhorse. In fact, it was men in pick up trucks that were currently attempting to plow the snow from the streets. Plows that would've required a team of difficult to control horses, simplified in operation by the miracles of technology.

Spike took care to wait for the road to clear before he started on his eastward trek, sighing heavily through his nose as his eyes fell to the sidewalk. He'd walked these streets at least a hundred times in the past, so was little need to look up as he began the journey to his destination. This gave him more than ample time to retreat into his own head, where he hoped to make sense of everything he was feeling. He and Twilight had both received invitations to the upcoming Hearth's Warming Ball in Canterlot, and in his last letter from the Princess she'd expressed a great amount of fondness for the idea of seeing him again. Spike, of course, had a fondness for the idea of seeing her again, but... Once again he was wrestling with the implications that arose from that fondness.

He'd been trying to convince himself that his interest was purely platonic, that there could be no other option.... Of course, Spike wasn't much of a liar, especially to himself. Doubt always arose as to whether was his interest in Orzel purely platonic, as he couldn't shake the notion that there was something else to it. He by nature of his job liked books, she flat out loved books. He liked models and O&O, she liked models and O&O games. He was a Dragon, she was a Dragon... Spike knew first hand that the Princess grew concerned when he was feeling unwell, but wasn't the nature of every friendship...? What was the harm in thinking it might be more than that? Spike wished he knew, indeed that was part of the problem. If he committed to that course, it could very well ruin his relationship with the closest thing he had to a best friend.

"Why does this have to be so damn difficult..." Spike muttered to himself, tucking his hands into the pockets of his leather bomber jacket, a gift from Orzel... That certainly didn't clear anything up. All he knew for certain was that he wasn't used to feeling this way, made exceptionally more difficult to deal with considering how amped up he'd been feeling of late.

Ever since his partial Elemental Transformation, keeping his feelings in check was like trying to hold back the ocean with a broom. Yet another reason he'd needed to take a walk was to cool off, both figuratively and literally... The young man wished that how he felt about the Princess was the only thing troubling him, but the truth was that there was an exponentially long list of obtrusive thoughts plaguing him. He need only take a brief look around at all the automobiles and motorcycles to see one of the others. The increasing presence of machines, now doing the jobs of horses, was one of the many things breeding discontentment among his thoughts.

With the darkness of the blizzard came the dull yellow glow of recently installed electronic street lamps. Steadily flickering in the face of wind and snow, they filled the air with a dull incandescent buzz, barely audible above the wind. Spike was halfway across town by then, halfway to his destination, but nowhere nearer to answers. Along the way he saw more than a few houses decorated for the upcoming Hearth's Warming Eve, but that'd more or less been the norm last year too. What stuck out now were the number of houses that bore the standards of Princess Celestia or Princess Luna separately, fluttering and snapping upon their flagpoles with the wailing gusts.

The demarcation line between the two seemed to be the very street on which Spike was strolling, that which separated the larger rural portion of the community from the more upscale 'Uptown' ward. The rural side displayed wide support for Princess Luna and Princess Orzel, the upscale preferring Princess Celestia. That any such demarcation even existed was a new and worrying development, at least in Spike's opinion. Rumor had it that Filthy Rich was thinking of running for Mayor in the next election, and though the retail magnate neither confirmed or denied the rumors he'd run on the Black Crown ticket, even the possibility of someone opposing Mayor Mare was enough to stir up trouble. It was relatively minor now, a few snide comments between neighbors here, an offhand half-insult there, but even that was unusual for the typically united little township.

Seeing those small cracks of division, minor as they might've been, made it that much harder for Spike to determine just how he felt about Princess Orzel. Granted, she'd had nothing to do with the founding of the Black Crown party, but they were her supporters. In a perfect world that wouldn't matter to him, especially as he didn't give a rat's ass about either side, but one side... One side wouldn't leave him alone. The Black Crowns tended to keep to themselves, but the Nobles... They were the ones he had to watch out for, the ones that would scream and posture and demand the loudest. Spike gave them little credence, he didn't accept their offered fliers or pay attention to their speeches. All he wanted was to be left alone, as was always the case when it came to politics.

For a few brief moments Spike once more recalled his first meeting with Orzel, the night that'd filled him with such vexation prior to their first written correspondence... She'd asked him what his intentions were... Asked if he shared the views of those who derided her in the papers. If he honestly did, he could've said as much. Spike suspected the Princess wouldn't have reacted negatively. It probably would've annoyed her on some level, but... Not as much as lying to her. She'd expected Spike to be honest then, an expectation that the boy sincerely doubted had changed as their relationship deepened. He'd tried to hold true to that expectation, and maybe that was why he was having such trouble convincing himself that there was nothing going on between him and his future sovereign.

By now, Spike could hear the faint burbling of the downtown river crossing. Here the air was sweet with the smell of baking bread and cooling pies, enough to drive the stronger worries from his thoughts. His destination emerged through the snowy mist, residing at the edge of the river beside a stone bridge, beyond which lay the wide open fields of Sweet Apple Acres, half a dozen other farms, and Equestria at large. The young man's objective was a rustic two story stone building, with tiled terracotta roof shingles that sat topped by a layer of snow, and a vaguely crooked chimney that jutted just a few feet above that. A steady stream of dull gray smoke spewed from the soot coated aperture, adding the distinct smell of burning firewood to the whipping torrents of air current.

As Spike crossed the street towards the building, he took note of its more distinguished characteristics. The first was a cluster of faintly buzzing neon signs in one of the first floor windows, one of which proclaiming the establishment to be 'OPEN'. The second attribute Spike recognized was the steady sound of aggressive sounding 'Blues Rock' playing inside, much quieter tonight than it usually was... The third was the presence of nearly a dozen motorcycles, parked neatly beside one another outside, covered with tarps of varying colors and patterns.

A sign nailed above the door depicted the black silhouette of a man on horseback, a satchel slung over his back, a musket in his hands. It was joined by a fancifully stylized series of words, 'The Iron Horseman', and it was a hard place, where hard men came to drank hard liquor. On its surface, such a business might've seemed out of place, especially in a town like Ponyville. Then again, most people didn't really understand why the establishment existed in the first place... Spike had figured it out a few months ago, specifically after Twilight warned him not to visit the place. Here it was possible for anyone from all around Equestria to possibly turn up, with its clientele being just as diverse as the nation itself. Some were perfectly friendly folks, while others... Weren't.

What drew these people in was as interesting as the people themselves, at least to someone like Spike, seeing as a large portion of his job entailed sending and receiving messages. In the grand scheme of things, Ponyville was more than an agricultural town, it was also the most vital railway junction in Equestria. What was more was that it was centrally located with regard to Equestria's road system. Anyone making the journey cross country almost certainly had to make a stop, however brief, in Ponyville. This not only made the otherwise unassuming village vital to the passage of passengers and freight, but also the packages and parcels of the Equestrian Postal Service.

Thus, the Iron Horseman served as more than just the local watering hole for Ponyville's rougher denizens. It was a stop over for the employees of at least a dozen various courier services, all of whom had essentially ground to a halt with the storm raging as violently as it was. Spike was neither a courier nor a rough customer, but he knew a slightly unlikely man who was at least one of those things. The very same man Spike went to when he needed advice about 'Man stuff'. Given tonight was 'Steak and Beer Night', Spike had no doubt said person would be inside. The boy approached the wooden door, tensely biting his lower lip.

He'd only ever visited once or twice before his birthday, though his visits had increased shortly thereafter. While he knew he was more or less safe, the fact remained that he'd stick out like a soar thumb the second he stepped over the threshold. He took a moment to pop his collar up, breath deep to steady his nerves, and put on his most serious face. Now was a time for action. With that final thought, Spike grabbed the door knob, turned, and pulled.

The smell of whiskey, tobacco smoke, and frying butter washed over him like a tidal wave. The music was louder now, the song in question was definitely the sort of thing Twilight wouldn't have liked Spike listening to. It talked of guns, whiskey, and more than a few questionable life choices. The teen puffed out his chest and quickly stepped inside, pulling the door closed behind him. Right beside the entrance was a large wall of hooks, each sporting a messenger bag, belonging to a wide array of courier services. A map of Equestria hung nearby, with well over a hundred points marked with bright red push pins, each indicating where at least one visitor might've originally hailed from. Beside that was a sign depicting a skull and crossbones, forcefully warning any that looked at it that 'Mailbag Thieves' would be shot.

A large jukebox at the far side of the room filled the space with its music, situated beside a little used stage. The barroom was dimly lit, swirling with dense foggy smoke, populated by the rough looking crowd Spike expected he'd find there. Most were eating steak or drinking beer, as was the custom for Steak and Beer Night. Most sat at rustic wooden tables, some were playing pool or poker, while others still eased themselves on stools directly at the bar. The majority appeared to be locals, while others wore the varying uniforms of their respective courier service. A few glanced up from their drinks at the sound of Spike's entrance, briefly staring at him with indifference for a flickering instant before going back to their own business.

The walls were adorned with a wide assortment of photographs, trinkets, and other knick-knacks. Each had a story behind how it happened to be there, and seeing as the Iron Horseman dated back as far as the founding of Ponyville, there was enough to cover nearly ever inch of the wood paneling. Among the highlights were two old trap-door rifles, so large it seemed impossible for one man to fire them, accompanied by at least fifteen mounted animal heads, each more exotic than the last. These weapons and the assorted trophies that accompanied them were gifts from a fellow by the name Chief Gunners Mate 'Dented Silver', one of the most well traveled sailors in the Equestrian Naval Exploration Corps... Indeed, stories passed by veterans of the ENEC were among some of the reasons Spike had initially considered joining the Navy.

Another interesting bit of decor was a collection of half a dozen yellowed teeth, enshrined within a protective polished wooden shadowbox. The story, as Spike understood it, was that they'd been punched out in that very barroom. That alone wasn't an uncommon occurrence, but these teeth in particular had been knocked out by none other than 'Scarface Altair', undisputedly the greatest Heavy Weight Boxing Champion to ever step into the ring. His autographed picture, more specifically the mugshot taken shortly after knocking loose said teeth, hung in the same display. The gap-toothed grin, busted lip, and considerable shiner must've been painful in the moment. In Spike's opinion the man didn't look all that bad, if anything that particular photograph made it seem he was exceptionally pleased with himself.

These pieces commemorating violent bouts of history easily explained why Twilight didn't like the idea of her quasi-son hanging out in this particular establishment. It was a place for tough people, the sort of place a Dragon should have no problem walking into and feeling right at home. Spike would need to start building some muscle if he ever wanted to live up to that image of himself. It'd likely mean doing more things that Twilight wouldn't like, but what Twilight didn't know wouldn't hurt her. She was Equestrian, and as much as she might've loved Spike, that meant she likely just wouldn't understand... Especially now that it was getting even harder for him to keep a lid on his emotions.

Spike silently scanned the room for the person he'd sought for help, and it didn't take long to spot him at the bar, sitting right beside a small cathedral-esque radio. The young man rolled his shoulders, tucking his hands back into his pockets as he started through the barroom. His facade remained as outwardly serious as possible, especially as he passed more than a few rough looking couriers in the midst of a game of Lone Star Hold'em. He spotted a short blonde woman among them, wearing a Ponyville mail carrier's uniform. Derpy Hooves, the local Mail woman, sat with her pretty face set in stone, not unlike the stoic mask of Princess Orzel...

One eye was fixated on her cards, the other actively wandered, as if probing her opponents for any sign of weakness. Considering the sizable amount of chips sitting before her, it was obvious the woman was on a winning streak. Miss Hooves wasn't the person Spike had come to see though, no... His target was the mountain of a man lounging at the bar, adorned in dirty work boots, well-worn overalls, and a red flannel shirt, its sleeves rolled to the elbows. A sandy blonde crew cut occupied his head, whilst dense stubble adorned his hard-bitten features, and thick bristly hair virtually carpeted his heavily muscled forearms. Before him rested an old black cowboy hat, whose surface, like the skin of its owner, had the appearance of sun beaten leather.

In one hand the man clasped his low-ball glass, filled with ice and dark amber liquid. 'Bear Creek Bourbon', if Spike recalled the man's preferred brand. The man's other hand held a fat smoldering 'Gordo' style cigar, from which strands of white vaporous smoke wafted to join the bar's soupy atmosphere. Big Macintosh didn't sit alone at the bar, being joined by several other men farmers, all of whom similarly were sipping their drinks or puffing cigars. A bald tanned man stood behind the bar, his flannel button down shirt struggling to contain his considerable gut, his face set in the resting expression of an unhappy pit-bull. That expression became more of a snarl when his eyes fell on Spike, and wordlessly tapped Big Mac on the arm, then pointed out at Spike. The farmer merely held up a hand, as if to demand the bartender wait a moment.

"...Altair's got Bull up against the ropes, he's giving him a left, then a cross! Bull's trying to keep his defense up, but Altair's not letting up! I knew he was saving up for something in the last round!" The radio announcer shouted excitedly, a tremendous thundering roar erupted in the background, almost so loud it nearly drowned out the announcer's voice. Spike could see Big Mac's entire demeanor change, becoming far more tense than it'd been before. "Bull goes down in a hail of punches!" In the background Spike could hear someone counting. 'One... Two... Three...' on upwards until they reached ten. "That's it, folks! Scarface racks up another knockout victory in the third round! Just listen to that roar, the crowd here is going crazy!" Big Mac visibly relaxed, taking a long swig from his glass. At further prodding from the bartender he looked over his shoulder, then smiled faintly at Spike before gesturing to the seat beside him.

"If y'all'er gonna sit at my bar, ya gotta buy food, and ya gotta buy a drink. Ya got one of them thar gov'ment type IDs?" The Bartender asked sarcastically as Spike took the offered seat, the boy of course shook his head. "Y'all at least got muneh?" The teen paused for a moment, feeling around his jacket pockets. After a couple moments he produced a small leather wallet which he set on the table. "Tonight we got steak, that's it. As for drinks, ah got cola, ah got root beer and ah got sarsaparilla. Take yer pick, boy."

"Sarsaparilla." Spike responded, the bartender merely shrugged and reached under the bar. After a few moments he withdrew a brown glass bottle, not unlike that the teen expected to see beer served in, from which he expertly removed the bottle cap. The bartender set it down with a heavy 'plink!', then unceremoniously withdrew a green 'One Bit' bill from Spike's coin pouch. With that, the man waddled off to place Spike's order with the cook, then tend to his other customers, leaving Spike and Big Mac on their own. "I kinda need more advice, regarding that person I mentioned last time. I wanted to ask her to see a movie or something, but I'm not really sure how I feel about that myself. There's... Actually an awful lot I don't know how I feel about." Big Mac took a thoughtful puff on his cigar, exhaling a small cloud of smoke and pursing his lips.

"Why?" Was the farmer's monosyllabic response.

"Because she's a... Well, y'know... Not that that matters, it's just that I trust her a lot, and I don't want to ruin that." Spike began, taking a slow sip of his sarsaparilla. He gradually began to relax, the more he thought about where he was. Seated as he was at the bar, bottle in hand, talking with the only person he trusted to keep his mouth shut about the whole thing. "Plus, since she's a... Well, y'know... It feels like it might come with a lot of issues. I can tell for one thing that her Mom doesen't seem to like us spending time together as it is, and if it didn't work out...? I'm sure she'd want my head to explode."

Big Macintosh took another sip of his drink, reaching over and turning down the radio, which at this point was going into the Post Fight wrap-up. That left just the sound of the jukebox to fill the background, which was now playing a rather somber sounding ballad about mothers preventing their children from becoming cowboys. Spike couldn't help thinking how prophetic the song sounded, given where he sat... Twilight was as close to a Mom as he had, and that was all well in good for most things, but sometimes... Sometimes he wished he had a Dad too.

"Afraid?" Big Macintosh asked curiously, swirling the ice cubes in his glass.

"Of all her issues, or losing her, or having my head exploded by her Mom?" Spike asked in response, Big Mac just shrugged, once again puffing on his cigar. "In all three cases? Yeah... But, the main reason I'm concerned is that she wants to be my friend, but what if that's really all that she wants from me? Friendship? Or what if it turns out that I really do want something more and she doesn't feel the same. Or what if it's the other way around? That's why I'm thinking it's best to just... Keep it friendly. Play it safe." Big Macintosh was silent for a good ten seconds, visibly mulling over Spike's words before exhaling through his nose.

"Bullshit." Big Mac's response was punctuated by another sip from his glass. Spike stared at him with confusion, he hadn't ever heard the man swear before. "Seems ta me yer jus' drummin' up excuses. Buck up, else y'all'll just be spinnin' yer wheels all yer damn life, ain't gettin' nowhere. Ya like this girl or not? It'sah simple question, son."

Spike opened his mouth to speak for a moment, then thought better of it. He needed to think for the moment, so he took another sip from his bottle, the sweet soda fizzing across his taste buds. A few moments later the bartender returned, placing a plate before him, loaded with a large sirloin steak and a side of mashed potatoes, sprinkled with little bits of bacon. He didn't waste any time tucking into the meal, as he'd also had a nigh-insatiable appetite for protein since his birthday... Apparently, according Orzel at least, that would remain an ongoing state... At least this time it gave Spike a chance to think without just sitting there like a bump on a log.

Orzel was the kind of person Spike could trust with a secret, the kind of person that valued loyalty, honesty, and chivalry as he did. Still, she always seemed like there was more on her mind than she could rightly let on. Sometimes it was to do with politics and policy, but... Other times, Spike felt as if maybe she was dealing with something more... Personal. Though to the casual observer it was difficult to tell, at times she would randomly freeze up. Her eyes would glaze over, taking on a familiar thousand yard stare. She always dismissed it as her thinking about something unimportant, but... The more he thought about their conversations, the more he recalled those instances were she'd go completely motionless, the more it became apparent that she had a lot going on in that head of hers.

If Spike did want to pursue a more meaningful relationship with the Princess, he would need to accept the fact that there was a lot he didn't fully know about her... Though the young man had to admit that he did like Orzel, he liked her a lot, actually... He supposed he'd known that from the beginning. What was more, she'd encouraged him to get help for his various issues. While Spike was willing, there were few qualified counselors in Ponyville, none of whom Spike had been able to strike a good rapport with...

Orzel was the only one he trusted when it came to talking about certain things, things he couldn't turn to Twilight or Big Mac or anyone else fore. She knew that he wasn't perfect, just as he knew that she wasn't perfect... She could be severe, impulsive, and cold at times. While she claimed the contrary, Spike also had a feeling that her obsessive neatness was more a neuroses than a mere desire to keep tidy... Why else did she insist upon tidying Spike's room, or the Golden Oaks library in general, even if they were already spotless?

None of this changed how Spike felt about Orzel, of course, and so the question remained as to what he should do... If he should do anything at all. He could play it safe, just keep their relationship as it was... There was nothing keeping him from pursuing something more later, though... What if by the time he worked up the courage, it was too late? The teen took a good long drink from the sarsaparilla, sighing with annoyance through his nose as he continued eating his steak. All those questions were just a cover for the truth. Spike was scared, scared out of his mind... He had a terrible poker face when it came to talking to anyone he had a crush on.

He'd kept his feelings poorly hidden from Rarity, the teen could only imagine how quickly the studious Princess Orzel would figure it out for herself... Spike accepted now that he never had a chance with Rarity, merely on account of his age. Had that not been an issue, he still doubted anything would've come from it, simply out of fear. It would likely wind up just the same way with the Princess, if he did nothing to change. The question Big Macintosh had asked him wasn't 'to ask' or 'not to ask', it was 'be afraid' or 'don't be afraid', and he almost always tended towards the former.

There were exceptions, of course, when the chips were down and his friends needed him... It just felt different when it came to his own personal wants or desires. He wanted a lot of things, it was an urge that grew stronger with each passing day, and it took a great deal of effort to keep controlled. Equestrians weren't supposed to be selfish, at least not the Equestrians he'd been raised by, yet another of the many mindsets now at odds with his new found draconic instincts.

Looking around the barroom, Spike imagined how its rugged patrons might act in his place. His eyes fell upon the mounted muskets of Dented Silver, the shadowbox enshrining the loosened teeth, and half a dozen other keepsakes he didn't know the origins of. All of it spoke loud and clear as to what his next actions should be, for there could be no reward without risk. He needed to man up, grow a set, bite the bullet, take the risk! The only alternative was stagnation, a constant state of being afraid to do anything... As much as he feared rejection, he couldn't deny the fact of what he was... A Dragon, and when in history had there ever been a dragon scared to take risks? He certainly wasn't going to be the first.

"Yes, and no..." When he finally answered, Spike's tone was flat and muted as he set the bottle back down. He'd swiftly wolfed down what remained of his steak and potatoes, and now commenced to drumming his fingers against the bar top. "Yeah, I think I do like her, but I don't know for sure." The teen straightened on his stool, setting his jaw and furrowing his brow. "I'll never figure that out if I don't at least try, right?" Big Macintosh offered Spike a small smile.

"Eeyup." The man agreed, finishing off the remainder of his drink. The Bartender returned moments later to refill the glass, his sour expression having slightly abated in the interim. Spike spent the next half hour conversing with Big Macintosh, at least as much as he could. His earlier bout of speaking was about as talkative as Big Mac ever got, and from that point on he was back to his usual laconic self. At the conclusion of that period, and an additional bottle of sarsaparilla, Spike bid the big man a brief farewell.

The teen deftly navigated the snowy streets of Ponyville with new found determination, far too caught up in his own thoughts to pay much mind to the world around him. By now it was well into the evening, and the temperature had dipped below zero... Still, between his naturally heightened body heat and the bomber jacket, Spike was pleasantly warm. The young man skidded to a stop just before he reached the door to the library, a new thought suddenly barging to the forefront. With tentative hesitation Spike lifted his jacket sleeve to his nose and sniffed, then winced in realization. He reeked of tobacco smoke and alcohol, and Twilight would never let him hear the end of it if she caught so much as a whiff. He'd need to sneak in and change clothes...

So it was with great care that Spike gripped the handle, turning it slowly, cautiously, before opening the door. The door swung inwards, virtually silent on its hinges. Twilight thankfully didn't seem to be in the reading room, as the lights were out inside, so the teen tip-toed inside. He closed the door behind him just as carefully as when he'd opened it, moving like a ghost through the darkened interior, every step calculated so as to risk as little noise as possible. Eventually he made his way up to the second story, and finally into his room... It didn't take long to change, and he tucked the offending clothes deep under a pile of other discarded garments in his hamper, so as to better mask their presence.

A glance at the clock told Spike he still had some time to work on his latest model, so he turned on a radio he'd purchased for his desk and set to work. The model itself was an EF Mk. VII, a biplane produced by Eiserner Flügel, formerly in the service of the Imperial Griffon Fliegende Korps... In its heyday, the Mk. VII was one of the most maneuverable and heavily armed fighters in the world, though it'd since been replaced by the EF-990. Spike already had a model of the aforementioned EF-990, an even more heavily armed monoplane, and a remarkably intimidating design. Models of the Mk. VII were a lot harder to come by, and Spike had needed to order this particular kit from the Griffon Empire via catalog.

For forty blissful minutes Spike threw himself into the kit, trimming sprews and sanding the remnants smooth, preparing each piece for construction and eventual painting. Through it all he listened to upbeat Hearth's Warming music wafting over his radio, even getting to a point where he was humming along, inwardly pondering that which he'd already pondered during his earlier venture outside... The young man resolved to himself that of the chance didn't present itself before the Hearth's Warming Ball, he'd attempt to ask Orzel the question that'd been plaguing his mind... At least, he'd attempt to make an attempt...

"Flash! News from the West Parthenian Coast!" Spike looked up as the upbeat Hearth's Warming carol was abruptly cut off, replaced by a serious sounding musical sting. "Tensions across the continent of West Parthenia have risen tonight, following a brief naval engagement between the Prench Navy and a submarine of unknown origin, following the sinking of two Minotaur freighters. Though the Prench report the submarine to be a Griffon design, witnesses to the display indicate that the submarine was appointed as one might expect a pirate vessel." Spike raised an eyebrow at that... He'd known pirates to occasionally seize warships from Prance and other powers in West Parthenia, but... A pirate submarine? "The Griffon Empire has denied accusations of selling surplus submarines to pirates, but-"

As usual, Spike didn't particularly care to listen beyond that, instead changing the channel to one that was playing music again. He was by no means pleased by the news, nor was he totally apathetic, it was just... There wasn't much of anything he could do about it, and so long as the pirate submarine didn't take aim at an Equestrian ship, odds were there wasn't much the Equestrian Navy would do either. Spike was sure that at that very moment, a certain petite Princess was in the midst of a heated discussion with her family, vehemently arguing that action should be taken before Equestrian ships were attacked. It'd undoubtedly come to nothing, of course, and Orzel would soon be calling to ask his advice...

This was an instance where Spike suspected he agreed with the Princess, and not just because he liked her. Pirates were a scourge that'd been allowed free reign of the seas for far too long, but at the very least they'd been attacking on an even field. They had to close and fight a ship one-on-one if they wanted to plunder or sink it. If the pirates now had access to submarines, civilian ships of all flags would be at greater risk, Equestrians included... The whole thing really didn't sit right with Spike, but again, there was little he could do. So he went back to working on his model. At least Ponyville was about as inland as one could get, with no chance of the pirates responsible making it there. Unless they sailed up the river. Spike shook his head, now he was just being silly...

Peering through his binoculars, Coronel Trepatroncos sneered at the vague outline of the facility, barely visible in the near total darkness. Flakes of snow snagged upon his white balaclava, whipping past in a frenzy of motion and bone chilling wind. Through his binoculars he saw little more than a few points of light, and just the faintest outlines of a pair of chain link fences, one erected behind the other. On any other night, he and his team would've stood no chance approaching the facility's perimeter, but not tonight... The blizzard that encompassed them all came courtesy of a few thousand Bits, stuffed strategically into a few pockets of a few Cloud Quality Inspectors.

Facility security would have a difficult time patrolling through so many deep drifts of snow, and with conditions so thoroughly whited out, the Coronel and his men could slip in close to the wire without fear of being spotted. That wasn't to say Trepatroncos was altogether happy with the weather either, in fact he hated that it needed to be so cold... Still, considering the hefty sum of gold he'd been promised for this little excursion, the Coronel could muddle through... His men, likewise, would all be expecting a cut of the action... While the Coronel would've preferred to just eliminate them and take the money for himself, well trained accomplices were exceptionally difficult to come by... After all, what if he needed to pull another one of these operations in the future?

"The perimeter sentry is making his rounds now..." The Coronel relayed to the man beside him, a Teniente by the name of Pinzón. The sentry in question was trudging through the waist deep snow, visible only by virtue of a flashlight beam that struggled to cut more than five feet through the snow. "Just passing the infiltration point... We've got twenty minutes before he gets back, let's do this." Pinzón nodded, looking over his shoulder and speaking to another man there... It was difficult to hear the man, even as closely clustered as they were. Regardless, a well drilled band of figures melted out of the snowy treeline, descending upon the facility perimeter below.

Trepatroncos led the squad of twelve men over the drifts of snow, pocked with a few visible craters where the weight of the snow had actually triggered landmines buried in the soil beneath. The craters had quickly been filled in by snow, but remained just barely visible enough so as to allow safe passage through the minefield. It didn't take the intruders nearly as long to reach the fence as might've seemed possible, seeing as their lighter bone density and overall weight made them sink less deeply, yet another reason they'd chosen to attack in a blizzard. It would've been even quicker and safer had they been able to use their wings to fly in, but no one was suicidal enough to attempt to fly in this weather. So they stepped lightly, just in case...

Each man was armed with a Griffon made AP-919 SMG, equipped with a Griffon suppressors and loaded with specially made Griffon sub-sonic 9x19mm rounds... These weapons were painted white, to match both the snow and the white fatigues, all of which were standard issue for the Imperial Griffon Army's 'Graupeljägers', soldiers specializing in arctic warfare of a covert nature.

Coming to a stop beside the outer fence, Trepatroncos could hear the chain links clinking against one another, whilst the barbed wire topping it flexed from side to side in the wind. Briefly, the man eyed a sign affixed to the fence itself. 'Attention! This is a Restricted Area! No Trespassing! Use of Lethal Force is Authorized!'... The sign was generally superfluous, considering the typical security presence and the minefield would surely deter all but the foolish or the brave from attempting to breach the fence. Of course, the facility was intended to remain a secret, and as such the lighting around its perimeter remained off at night... Typically, this reduced visibility was offset by the presence of Guards with frequent guard patrols. Once again the storm played to their advantage, as most of the guards were inside, and those that weren't were having trouble moving at their typical pace.

"I need the wire cutters, Coronel." Pinzón requested in their native tongue whilst peering at the fence from behind a pair of ski goggles, the white mist of his breath being carried away on the wind.

"Remember, once we're inside we're supposed to be Griffons..." Trepatroncos reminded the man, he reaching to his belt and producing a pair of wire cutters, which he hand forward to the Teniente. Peering at his wrist watch, the faintly glowing radium painted watch hands told him it'd been less than seven minutes since they'd set out. "Come on, Pinzón. Más rápido!" The squad waited tensely as the Teniente deftly cut through the fence, producing a hole large enough for them to slip through without much trouble. "Make sure to cut the alarm circuit before you make your move..." Trepatroncos ordered to another of the men, this time speaking in vaguely accented Griffisn.

"Ja, Oberst." The man responded dutifully before leading seven of the men away, moving along the inner perimeter fence in the opposite direction, fast disappearing in the snowy mist...

Trepatroncos, Pinzón, and the four others meanwhile skirted along the inner fence in the other direction, moving towards one of the few sources of visible light, casting a stark white beam through the snow shrouded darkness... Moving closer revealed the source to be a small security checkpoint, with an electronically opened gate and a small pre-fabricated gatehouse. The gatehouse was occupied by a trio of men, while three more stood outside. All wore black combat fatigues and balaclavas of their own. Unlike Trepatroncos' men, they were additionally equipped with hooded winter jackets of indeterminate material. More notably, most carried bolt-action rifles, while only one or two AARs...

Inch by inch, the Coronel and his men crept closer, to a point where he could not only hear the soldiers talking inside, but see them as well. Each was particularly muscular, or at the very least bulky in some fashion. The patches sewn to their shoulders depicted a stylized snarling three-headed dog... The Coronel was so close, he could actually make out the unit's motto embroidered beneath the cantankerous canine, 'Pro Omnibus Hominibus'... Loosely translated, it meant 'For All Mankind'. This confirmed to Trepatroncos just what unit he was dealing with, all the more reason to make this mission as quick and quiet as possible.

Trepatroncos was all too familiar with the threats that this particular unit faced, for a long time he'd done the same thing in his own corner of the world... He liked to think of himself as a realist, that his government was already profiting from the work he put into attempting to contain anomalous objects, so why shouldn't he get a piece of the pie? The Lunar Marines that bore the patch of 'Cerberus' were cut from a different cloth entirely, and to some extent Trepatroncos admired their commitment to 'protecting the world'... Unfortunately, that commitment meant they'd fight like fiends to prevent the Coronel and his men from getting away with their plunder.

"Portcullis, this is Central. Gimme a Sit-Rep, over." A woman's voice spoke up from what sounded like a radio, or possibly an intercom, from within the gatehouse. Trepatroncos and the other men in his team waited in the shadows, observing as one of the men picked up a headset and put it on.

"It's hard for us to see more than ten feet in this soup. We've got snow, snow, and more snow..." The man responded evenly, peering out the forward facing window. The Coronel followed the soldier's gaze, out along the long road leading up to the gate. Little was visible beyond the reach of the floodlights mounted atop the gatehouse, as the road dipped downwards before snaking off somewhere into the trees. "Hold on a second..." He trailed off, and for a few moments Trepatroncos had to consider blowing their stealth early... Could the soldier really see the trio of trucks waiting at the edge of the trees, the very same trucks the Coronel was here to ensure made it through the gate.

"Do you want additional illumination?" Central asked curiously.

"Negative, Central. Eyes are just playing tricks on me. We could do with some Hotel Charlie, though, if you're feeling generous." The soldier declined evenly, allowing Trepatroncos to breathe a slight sigh of relief.

"Acknowledged, Portcullis, we'll get that out to you PDQ. Expect next check-in in approximately fifteen Mikes, how copy?"

"Portcullis copies all. Out." The soldier responded before removing the headset and setting it on the desk, then quietly making his way over to join his fellow soldiers seated around a flimsy looking card table.

By virtue of the snowstorm, none of the men at the checkpoint had spotted Trepatroncos' team in the darkness, so he and Pinzón moved around to the rear of the gatehouse. Focused as they were on threats coming from in front of the building, odds were the guards wouldn't take note of any movement behind them. Still, each step was taken carefully, as any undue movement might rouse the attention of the men inside, or the men currently standing at the gate itself...

The Coronel and Teniente waited for the guards standing outside to turn away, then the latter of the two moved towards a small electrical junction box at the back of the building. For several seconds he examined the cables running into the box, then reached out with his wire cutters and snipped a couple. If they'd done their homework right, those wires in particular would disable the intercom system and the far more important alarm circuit, it was impossible to completely disable one without the other. Trepatroncos looked at his watch again, ten minutes to go until the sentry would come back this way, but they only needed five. It wouldn't be long now... Soon, very soon, Trepatroncos would be relaxing on a beach somewhere... Just a little more cold.

A pair of headlights stabbed forth in the distance, then another, then another... The source? A convoy of three covered Equestrian supply trucks, which rumbled through the snow at a steady pace, immediately catching the attention of the guards. Trepatroncos and Pinzón quickly moved back to join the other four men, watching in silence as the trucks slowly crept along the snowy road, then came to a stop at the gate. One of the men inside the gatehouse stepped out to join one of his colder comrades, and together two of them moved towards the first truck.

It was at this point that the Coronel and his men made their move, advancing swiftly on the gatehouse with their SMGs leveled. Between the rumbling engines and whipping wind, the suppressed sub-sonic reports of the weapons went entirely unheard by anyone not within twenty feet of their muzzles. Bullets peppered through the gatehouse, shattering windows and tearing into the Cerberus troopers still inside. One never knew what hit him, being quickly filled with a hail of hot lead before collapsing to the floor in a bleeding mess. The other staggered for a few moments, evidently attempting to go for the intercom, only to fall a few inches short.

The men outside the gatehouse were briefly alerted to the commotion, at least until the driver of the first truck, shot the two of them that'd approached with a suppressed pistol. The team wasn't fast enough to get the last two men standing near the gate, however, and one of whom raised his AAR at Trepatroncos and Pinzón. The Coronel winced at the thunderous burst of fire, ripping through the air and overwhelming the howling wind considerably. Pinzón staggered for a moment as one of the rounds caught him in the shoulder, zipping through one side and out the other, then continuing to punch through one of the two fabric pouches that contained his wings.

Outnumbered and out of position, the two remaining defenders didn't last long, quickly being subdued by the rest of the team. Not hesitating for an instant, the infiltrators quickly dragged the corpses out of sight, commencing to bury them in the snow while Pinzón propped himself up against the gatehouse, putting pressure on the wound, smearing blood all over the white painted exterior.

"I just got the wind knocked out of me..." Pinzón grunted in Griffish, speaking through gritted teeth as he struggled into the gatehouse, leaning against the desk and pressing the button that opened the gate. Trepatroncos moved to stand beside him, the electric motor quickly withdrawing the gate. The trucks drove past without further incident, entering into the facility as if all was normal... Perhaps no one had heard? "Got any morphine?"

"Gorrión, get to work on Pinzón. The rest of you, heads on a swivel!" Trepatroncos ordered, once again looking at his watch as a shorter man moved to tend Pinzón's wound. By now the Coronel's teeth were chattering ever so slightly at this point, but odds were that was more to do with adrenaline than anything else. He glanced back at his watch... In a few minutes the sentry would be coming back this way, assuming he hadn't heard the shots already... Just one man was easy enough to dispatch, but Central would be expecting him to check in via the intercom. When he didn't, they'd call down to ask where he was. With the intercom and alarm circuit disabled, they wouldn't get an answer... It'd be at that point that stealth went out the window.

If they were lucky, if the plan was still going along as designed, the other team was at that very moment loading the three trucks with as many artifacts as they could get their hands on. While they could likely get a fortune for anything they carted out of the facility, there were several particular items that'd been specifically requested by the person funding the mission. They'd be on the first truck out, assuming the intelligence as to where they were being stored was accurate. Trepatroncos didn't really know what it was he was stealing, exactly, only that it was very valuable and there were a lot of people interested in it.

The Broker apparently had someone willing to pay over thirty-million Bits... Again, the Coronel would've preferred to just kill the little weasel and sell directly to the buyer, but... Like Trepatroncos' men, the Broker was of far greater use to him alive, at least for now. There would still be plenty of artifacts to sell off, and Trepatroncos didn't know nearly as many as potential customers as the Broker did. The Coronel looked up at the barely audible sound of a burst from an AP-919, it seemed the patrolling sentry had just been dealt with. Once again he looked at his watch, nervously tapping his foot against the floor... Briefly he caught himself looking at the two dead Cerberus troopers laying there in a pool of blood and broken glass, biting his lower lip as he did so. He hadn't had any other choice but to kill them... A phone on the desk suddenly started ringing, but not a man in the building dared to pick it up.

"Ready up, boys! It's about to hit the fan! Go loud!" The Coronel shouted, swiftly exchanging his magazine for one with full-load rounds, then twisting the suppressor. The locking lugs clicked mechanically, allowing him to remove the suppressor...

For a few moments he considered tucking it into his pocket, but he wasn't quite sure 9x19mm shell casings and speaking Griffish would be enough to sell the story that this raid was carried about by Graupeljägers. With that in mind, he tossed the Griffon made accessory to the floor, waiting patiently for the other boot to drop. His eyes darted again to his watch, now the trucks were overdue. Every moment they waited now risked being killed or captured, but it'd all be for nothing if they bailed just when the trucks needed them most.

Then, in the blink of an eye, all Tartarus broke lose...

"Code Seven! I say again, we have a Code Seven Intruder Alert! This is not a drill!" The voice of Central was now echoing throughout the facility, surging forward from dozens of PA speakers. A shrill air raid siren sudden shrieked to life from somewhere within the facility proper, followed by another, then another. Floodlights snapped on along the perimeter fence, one after another. Search lights flickered on atop guard towers within the facility, indeed it seemed the entire place was lighting up like a Hearth's Warming tree, illuminating several buildings within the facility itself.

It wasn't long before Cerberus Troopers began pouring out from several structures, all of them carrying weapons, each moving with well trained purpose and determination. Trepatroncos had barely a moment to tackle Gorrión and Pinzón to the floor of the gatehouse before a cluster of gunfire sent hot lead scything through the air where just a moment before they'd been standing. Just as had been the case for the guards, there was little in the way of cover for the Gate team to get behind, but they had to hold their position just long enough for the trucks to escape.

Then, as if to prove the reason as to why that was so important, gate began closing of its own accord. Teniente Pinzón crawled along the floor to the gate control button, still bleeding from his shoulder. He tried to override the close command, but it had no effect. Desperate to keep the barricade open, Trepatroncos peaked up over the gatehouse windowsill and fired a burst from his SMG into the gate's electronic motor. It had the desired effect, stopping the gate from closing any further, though Trepatroncos doubted whether it'd really matter in the end.

The trucks were more and more overdue, and if they didn't somehow manage to make it out, odds were Trepatroncos and his team would have to escape on foot. More bullets popped and whizzed by, not just from slow firing rifles but from the powerful AARs as well. There's was a deep rhythmic thunder, and it was easy to tell which rounds came from them merely by virtue of the bright green tracers that often went skipping off into the night. It was clear that the Coronel's team would be unable to hold the gate, and he watched with slight dismay as one man took a series of rifle shots to his chest. As with Pinzón, each of the four rounds tore clean through with bursts of dark crimson blood, clustered in a grouping no larger than the palm of Trepatroncos hand.

Just as the Coronel was planning to give the order to withdraw, a pair of headlights suddenly emerged from behind one of the buildings beyond the gate. The man heard the familiar rumble of the supply trucks, all three of which were flooring it towards the gate with the engines roaring loudly...It seemed all of them would make it, at least until the driver's side window of the third vehicle was riddled with bullets and subsequently painted with blood, an Equestrian bullet reducing the top portion of the driver's head to little more than pink mist. The truck went careening out of control, slamming into the side of building and forcing half a dozen Cerberus Troopers to dive out of the way.

The remaining trucks blew past the gate, and Trepatroncos could only hope it'd at least been loaded with something of value...

"Vamos! Vamos! Ahora ahora ahora!" The Coronel shouted in his native tongue, forgetting for a split second that he should've been speaking Griffish, and immediately regretting it... Oh well, he couldn't un-ring that bell.

The gate team quickly started to withdraw, bullets cracking past more sporadically from the behind. The amount of fire had slowed considerably, as the cold was likely making it difficult for the enemy to manipulate the stripper clips required to load their weapons. That wasn't to say the fleeing force was completely safe, however, as Gorrión was suddenly struck in the chest as he attempted to heft Pinzón into a fireman's carry. The man let out a loud wheezing groan as the bullet zipped clean through, miraculously missing Pinzón's head, but spraying his face with...

"Dios mío! Qué demonios es eso!?" Pinzón screamed as he fell to the floor, wiping away the bizarre glowing violet liquid and staring wide eyed at the now unmoving Gorrión... Except he wasn't 'Gorrión' anymore, for a few moments it looked like the man's body was consumed by fire. Though the man's uniform remained untouched, his skin and overall physical appearance changed drastically... Gone was his deeply tanned skin or the brilliant hazel eyes, replaced with a purple-ish pallor and milky white orbs that just stared into Trepatronco's soul. Dumbfounded and frightened beyond reason, the Coronel did something he probably shouldn't have and picked Pinzón up himself.

With the man still bleeding over his shoulder, Trepatroncos beat a hasty retreat towards the second truck, which had stopped in defilade to await the team. He did a quick headcount, of the six men they'd started with, only half that many were now present, including Pinzón. Looking over his shoulder, Trepatroncos spotted two forms laying in the snow near the gatehouse... One was totally unmoving, and surrounded by a growing puddle of that bizarre fluorescent liquid. The other was very much bleeding red, and despite his injuries was struggling to crawl towards the safety of the truck.

"Coronel! Ayúdame!" The man shouted frantically as the Cerberus Troopers rapidly advanced to retake the gate. "Por favor, Coronel! Espérame!" The Coronel could only turn his back and heft Pinzón into the back of the truck, climbing in shortly behind him, abandoning the man to his fate...

He couldn't save Pinzón and go back for his fallen comrade, not if he wanted the mission to succeed... He tried to console himself that with one less man, there was one less person to split the spoils with, but... It didn't help much. He couldn't even look back to see what happened, instead hunkering down for his life in the covered back as the truck rumbled off into the darkness. Once within, he was pleased to see there was a great number of wooden crates, all of which were marked with the insignia of the Nocturne Agency... Each one bound to bring him riches to rival General Blanca himself.

Unfortunately, this wasn't a chance for him to revel in the victory he'd just achieved, as it seemed there was a very real previously unknown problem. Of the men seated in the back of the truck, all but one seemed shocked by the glowing liquid that currently stained both the Coronel's and the Pinzón's uniforms. Trepatroncos leveled his weapon, setting his jaw and glaring at each man intensely.

"One of you, help him... The rest of you, don't make a move." The man stated with a voice like molten lead. "It seems not everyone here is who they say they are..." The man eyed the one man that seemed unfazed suspiciously. "We'll clear this up at the rendezvous. For now, don't make any sudden moves."

They would clear it up... They most certainly would, if it was the last thing Trepatroncos did. Not only was he not keen to have... Whatever the hell those things were in on the deal's he'd made, getting rid of them would further reduce the number of people he'd need to split the proceeds with. Not once did the thought enter his mind that these creatures, whatever they were, might've been the very same ones he'd been hired by... Though, it probably wouldn't have mattered if it did. Their gold was just as valuable as anyone else's, and so long long as they paid him what he was owed, Trepatroncos saw no reason not to do business with them... He just didn't want them on his team.

A life confined to the dark and dank tunnels of the Underhive was all that Echo desired... Safe below ground, away from the scorching sun of the badlands, never wanting for food or water... It wasn't that he was afraid, or even that he didn't enjoy the sun. After all, what self respecting Changeling didn't like a good basking period? No, Echo was content with his life deep within the eldest and most sacred of domains because, to him, there was no higher calling... For countless generations, Echo's family line had seen to the needs of the nobility of the hive, granting their every whim, no matter how trivial. The nobles were the defenders of the Hive, at least... In an academic sense. Yet of all his innumerable brothers and sisters, Echo had the distinct privilege to be chosen as the attendant for the highest of the high.

The gaunt fellow bore a greenish pallor typical of all those within the Hive, and strode purposefully onwards, past the narrow passages leading to the quarters of the Hive nobility. The stone in the Underhive bore a beautiful swirling pattern of gray and white, like coiling wisps of smoke, suspended in the living rock from which the passage had been carved. Faintly illuminated by a sort of fungal plant, Echo couldn't recall the precise name, his pale white skin took on an almost ethereal green glow. Adumbral robes of blackest cloth swished with every step, only occasionally dragging along the uneven floor, though Echo hardly took notice. Occasionally the passage ceiling pressed low, and so his short powder gray hair would brush against the ceiling, yet even this was not enough to give him pause.

Those other servants and lesser nobles whom he passed gave him his credence, bowing their heads in respect of his illustrious office. As the Queen's personal attendant, he was to be given the same respect as the Queen herself. Recent changes briefly put the order of things into doubt, but with time things had settled... In fact, that aspect of life had remained virtually the same, and Echo still retained his lofty title. That wasn't to say he was altogether ignorant of the changes either. He rather missed Queen Tempo... On some level, Echo had been fairly smitten with the former monarch, and though it wasn't meant to be, he sensed she'd reciprocated those feelings. Her daughter, Chrysalis, had a very different way of going about things, and Echo was saddened she didn't share her Mother's cordial demeanor. Then again, it wasn't the place of the Queen's Attendant to question her means or motives, only to serve her every wanton desire.

The passage gradually widened and regained much of its lost height, giving way to a large wooden door, carved with tremendous bas-reliefs of a time long past. It was flanked on either side by six heavily armored soldiers, their black chitinous breast plates and helmets reminiscent of the heroic figures enshrined upon that very door. Wickedly sharp swords rested on their belts, decorated with a forest green strip of fabric tied around their pommels. The soldiers didn't bow, and Echo hadn't expected them to. They were the Queen's guard, technically his military 'equals' in the hive's hierarchy. Without so much as exchanging a word, his intent already broadcast in the vague manner of the hive-mind, the guard closest to the door opened it and stepped aside.

Echo entered the chamber beyond, the guard closing the door behind him, effectively sealing him within. The space was immense in comparison to the quarters of even the most highly regarded Nobility, elaborately filled with finely crafted furnishings of all sorts. A great pillar of sunlight jutted down from the center of the room, brought to this immense underground depth by a series of mirrors and tunnel shafts, all in service of illuminating a single chair. While not as intricately decorated as the Royal Throne that sat within the Regal Chamber in the Upperhive, it was nonetheless an impressive construct of wood, leather, and fragments of blackest stone. Echo quietly hurled himself to the floor with as much dignity as he could, prostrating himself in the awe inspiring presence of the chair's lone occupant.

"That's quite enough, Echo." Queen Chrysalis, unquestioned ruler of the Bad Lands Hive, declared with a disdainful scowl. Echo quickly scrambled to his feet, bowing his head in solemn respect. The Queen was only twenty years old, yet she possessed the imposing presence of a ruler twice her age. Her sharp features, lit from above, cast ghostly shadows down her magnificent face. Piercing green eyes glared at him through several strands of stringy blackish-green hair... "Have the scouts returned?"

"Of course, your Magnificence." Echo responded in a hissing, grovelling tone, shrinking somewhat into himself. It was best for one's health to appear as feeble as possible in the presence of the new Queen, especially given the rumors regarding just how she'd come to power.

Queen Tempo's deteriorating health was known to most of the Hive, but the abruptness with which her heart failed left even the best healers baffled... Or, so the story went. For their failure to preserve the Queen, those healers had all been exiled to the surface for their 'gross incompetence and treason'. As such, none of them were actually present to offer a contrary story. Echo doubted Chrysalis was capable of regicide in this instance, as she and Tempo had been exceptionally close... The excommunication of the healers just as well could've been the result of grief. Still, rumors had a tendency of sticking around within the hive, no matter how unlikely. Shaking those thoughts from his mind, the attendant cleared his throat.

"The scouts report that the Dragons have taken little notice of our recent activities, but the Equestrians have deployed their horse soldiers in greater numbers..." Echo continued cautiously, keeping his eyes set firmly on the floor. "I believe they call them 'Rangers'." Chrysalis emitted a sharp hissing sound, obviously displeased.

"It's as if they knew... Mirage musn't have been as stealthy as he's lead me to believe." The young woman growled, rising from her seat. Echo chanced a look and was unsurprised to see that, save for a simple breach cloth and brassiere, the Queen wore nothing at all. Her long hair reached down to her belly-button, further serving to shield the only sort of modesty covering her upper torso. That was nothing new. Why should the Queen concern herself with modesty, especially within her own personal chambers? It was tradition, dating since time immemorial... Of course, there were some instances where a modicum of modesty was required. "Robe. Now." She ordered... This, apparently, was one of those times.

"At once, Excellency!" Echo bowed before dutifully approaching one of the finely crafted dressers and withdrawing a silken robe. Unfurling it, he approached the Queen from behind as she outstretched her arms. With practiced ease, the Queen's Attendant slipped the robe over her arms and tied the simple sash around the waist. "Shall I call for the palanquin?" He asked, as evidently it seemed the Queen intended to leave her Chambers. She glared at him, and Echo submissively wilted beneath her gaze.

"No, fool." Chrysalis snapped harshly, turning and resuming her seat upon her throne. "General Mirage shall arrive shortly, to explain himself... That worm isn't worthy to gaze upon my unadorned form." Echo nodded apologetically, bowing his head and watching the door. He had sensed the brief summons within the hive-mind, though it would likely take some time for the General to arrive. "More and more those damnable Equestrians encroach upon our territory, hoarding their love to themselves..." Echo once again nodded, but said nothing, recognizing that his Queen was entering one of her 'moods'. "Soon... Soon we will be able to consume that love ourselves!"

The minutes passed in silence, with Chrysalis glaring directly ahead at the door, her evident fury growing with each second. It radiated throughout the hive-mind, to such an extent that even Echo was beginning to grow irked at the tardiness of General Mirage. They didn't have much longer to wait, however, as the door to the Queen's chamber was throne open and a rather nervous looking fellow entered, perhaps twice the age of the woman seated on her throne. He fell to the floor, his armor clattering loudly as he went about prostrating himself. The guards outside the door slammed it shut, sending the echoing reverberations throughout the chamber. This time, the Queen didn't bid him to rise as she had Echo, and instead glared hatefully down at the quivering officer.

"General Mirage, what am I to do with you...?" Chrysalis muttered in displeasure, drumming her fingers on the smooth wooden arm of her chair. "I told you to observe the enemy without raising suspicion, so why now do they deploy more of their Rangers to their southern border?" Mirage's response was muffled by the floor, and at that the Queen rolled her eyes in contempt. "Rise and speak, if you must..."

"I do not know, my Queen." Mirage responded nervously, averting his eyes. "The enemy had already started to deploy troops before my men even arrived. Perhaps they marshal there in defense from another threat? We are nearing the time of year where the dragons attempt to raid the border settlements." He defended in a rapid and submissive fashion, not anything like his considerably large muscular form might suggest. "It should not be possible for them to have seen my warriors, they made use of the tunnels up to the very edge of the border, unless someone told them where to look?"

It looked to Echo that Queen was considering the General's words, though whether that was a good thing or not was up in the air. Chrysalis had only ascended the throne on the Night of Wicked Dreams, a month or two ago, and many Nobles with tertiary claims to the throne would surely attempt to overthrow her should she fail. Echo doubted they'd succeed, of course, but that was contingent upon who the Queen's Guard sided with. Invariably they'd side with Chrysalis, as that'd been the final order of Queen Tempo before her passing, but the rest of the hive didn't know that... Uprisings were rare among Changeling Hives in general, and virtually unheard of within the Bad Lands Hive, but they could happen.

Mirage was a well respected officer, and despite his apparent recent blunder, he remained highly influential among the other Generals. Chrysalis needed his loyalty if she was to further consolidate her power, or quell a rebellion instigated by less than pleased nobles... There were officers beneath Mirage that weren't as loyal, and Echo supposed one of them might have told the Equestrians. Not out of any sort of misplaced 'honor', Echo was certain of that. More likely they wanted Mirage exiled, at which point they could try to get themselves promoted to the lofty title of General...

"It may be possible..." Chrysalis allowed, looking at the floor and rubbing her chin. Echo could guess there was more to her summation than Mirage's claim. The hive-mind had been oddly effected on the night of Queen Tempo's death, and Chrysalis grudgingly confided that following the former Queen's expiration, she'd felt something that just... Wasn't right. Something that squirmed and writhed within the hive-mind like a slain beetle. Echo wasn't sensitive enough to feel it himself, but he'd called for the appropriate healers as ordered. Now, she likely assumed those 'squirming' things had something to do with the enemy's sudden knowledge. Chrysalis cast a look at Echo, had she heard his musings, or... Was it the other way around? Was the hive-mind projecting her thoughts onto his? "Recall your forces, and await further instructions, General Mirage... You may leave." Mirage bowed quickly and scurried out of the room.

"How did such a miserable creature become General...?" The Queen asked rhetorically when Mirage was gone, once more rising from her seat and outstretching her arms. Echo quickly went to work, undoing the sash and removing the robe, before neatly folding it and returning it to the dresser. The Queen again sat upon her seat, her bare pale skin radiating in the sunlight from overhead. The Attendant quickly resumed his place at the Queen's side, standing in silent reverence. Once more he felt the hive-mind thrum... "I must find a soldier without fear of failure." Her heavenly presence transcended that miniscule chamber, and Echo could've sworn he felt a sudden twinge of... Satisfaction. "Yes... He will do nicely."

Once more silence reigned, with Chrysalis observing the door with evident contemplation. Echo didn't dare interrupt her thoughts, though he had to admit he wondered just who the 'He' she referred to was. He new most every General within the Underhive, and not a one of them was what he would call 'brave'. They orchestrated skirmishes for training purposes, carried out covert raids of Equestrian settlements, and occasionally dealt with the odd raiding party from a rival hive.

With the exception of the latter most, these were generally trivial tasks, that could be planned and executed from the safety of one's chambers. Then Echo got an odd sensation, something was drawing closer. Something that put him on edge. It was the same feeling he'd get whenever the hive was threatened by one of its rivals, or at risk of being discovered by dragons on the prowl. An uneasy desire to cut and scamper to the nearest dark hole, where he could safely transform to mimic the rock face and pray to survive... That was when the door opened once again.

Stepping into the chamber with rigid, confident steps, Echo saw a warrior wearing armor common to the regular troops. The only deviation was the presence of three vertical red lines painted on the helmet, the traditional mark of a Colonel. Long strands of crimson hair cascaded about his shoulders, and a pair of dull purple eyes looked about the room as the soldier removed his helmet. Echo didn't recognize the man, then again why should he? He was a lowly Colonel, after all, hardly worth the notice of the denizens of the Underhive... Still, he radiated something akin to... Independent resolve. Very strange, and exceedingly rare, among Changelings. This was especially true of those in the Hive's Swarm ranks, as obedience and strict adherence to orders were considered an absolute must for the rank and file.

"My Queen." The Colonel stated, bowing deeply, but not hurling himself upon the floor as the others had. Echo was flabbergasted, and rose to his full height, preparing to order the impudent cur be clapped in irons, but... Chrysalis raised a hand, silencing his order before it could be given.

"A true warrior need only bow..." Chrysalis purred, lacing her fingers together as she reclined in her seat. "You are Pharynx." The woman stated simply, to which the Colonel nodded. "I assume you've been keeping up to date with the latest information from our enemies? What is your appraisal of their troop deployment to the border." Pharynx looked thoughtful for a moment, but not hurried, like so many other officers to come into the chamber. Most unusual indeed...

"The enemy is deploying Rangers... Highly mobile forces, which makes sense considering the terrain." Pharynx began, clasping his hands behind his back. His voice was even, aggressive, and determined... Echo noticed a distinctive temper to each sentence, not unlike that of Queen Tempo... Perhaps this was one of her personal students? "Yet the Rangers are not nearly the bulk of their armed forces, they are more akin to heavily armed constabulary. This leads me to believe that they don't know exactly what is at play, only that something is stirring... Likewise, they have deployed across the entire southern border, even areas we do not control, rather than massing their forces..." A predatory smile crossed his handsome features. "Either they are pre-occupied by the dragons and do not know of our presence, or if they do know of our presence, they don't know where we are, so they must defend everywhere at once."

"Indeed..." Chrysalis hummed thoughtfully, and Echo could certainly see why. This 'Colonel Pharynx' was obviously more attentive than the Generals called upon to do such things as plan and scheme. "You mention the bulk of their armed forces are away, we can launch an invasion before they could respond!" Pharynx once more appeared thoughtful, then shook his head, another first for Echo... Had he just said 'No' to his Queen?

"I strongly caution against that, my Queen." Pharynx stated simply, glancing upwards at the sunlight filtering down from above. "Our Swarm is powerful, but not nearly powerful enough to face the Equestrian's in an all out invasion..." Chrysalis was stunned by the statement, but the Colonel held up a mollifying hand. "The province of Lone Star is regularly inundated by dragon attacks, as such its inhabitants have armed themselves considerably. Were we to invade overland, we would find ourselves facing a rifle behind every pebble. We do hold the advantage in manpower, but even that wouldn't be enough for a protracted campaign." He clasped his hands behind his back. "If you intend to attack the Equestrians, we must build our forces and mass for a rapid decisive victory. Eliminate their Princesses, dictate terms in their Castle in Canterlot, before they can bring their industrial and military might to bear. I also urge against this, at present... We don't have nearly enough troops."

"And how long must we wait until we do?" Chrysalis asked, obviously displeased with another urge for caution.

"Approximately five years..." Courteously offered Pharynx, nodding upwards at the sunlight. "We would also need to cease construction of similar frivolities, and better direct the labor towards the construction of weapons, armor, and provisions." Chrysalis hissed a laugh, a most wonderful sound, her eyes lingering on Pharynx for several moments. Echo could only wonder what his Queen would desire, and that was relatively rare... It was his job to know, after all. Would she have Pharynx exiled for impudence...? That was generally how such things went. Maybe she'd order his execution? Echo would never state his thoughts so bluntly, but he believed the Queen to be far less... Grounded than her Mother. Prone to fits of temper, and even borderline madness.

"You have three years, General Pharynx, to plan and prepare for an invasion of Canterlot... Our hive's food reserves shall last until then, among other considerations..." Chrysalis finally pronounced, slightly cryptic about the latter point. The man seemed unfazed by the obvious promotion, another oddity in Echo's experience. "Use whatever means you deem necessary, and please..." She added more coyly. "Feel free to consult me at any time." Pharynx bowed once again, before rising and replacing the helm atop his head. "You may leave..." With that, the newly-minted General made his way from the room, leaving Echo as the only one to hear the Queen's quiet murmur as she rubbed almost painfully at her temples. "Hopefully this will be enough to sate them." The woman groaned softly. "Echo... Fetch the healers, Mirage's incompetence has given me a migraine..."

Chapter 18

Orzel stood beside one of her mills, perched atop a reinforced metal step stool, eyes focused on the fast spinning bit as it machined away small chips of shiny steel. Tensely she watched for any sign of mistakes, as any screw-up on her part that might render this part a total waste. The air in the cavernous factory was colder than it'd ever been before, as she'd had neither the time nor the inclination to focus on getting the heat up and running as of yet. There was just too much for her to do, and so little time to do it in. Attired in her flight suit and bomber jacket, she was more than warm enough to work on this critical component, even if she occasionally had to take breaks to walk around and ensure she still maintained feeling in her toes.

Snow cascaded past the window, adding to the already considerable drifts that blanketed Maksym Field. Occasional gusts of wind would occasionally rattle the windows, more a fault of their design than the strength of the breeze, though it certainly contributed to the draft... Orzel had little time to worry about such notions as her own personal comfort, she had work to do, and for the moment that was all she wanted to focus on... What she wanted, however, wasn't always what she got. The month that'd passed since Operation Firewatch had seen an unusually high number of changes, with a Mother, Piercing, and even Aunt Celestia acting far less relaxed than usual.

Luna had doubled, then quadrupled, Orzel's already considerably sizable security detail, to the point that Maksym Field was being patrolled by so many Nocturne Agents and Lunar Marines that the girl suspected it didn't look to far off from its time as an Air Base. Something had to have happened, something bad... She didn't know what that something had been, and there was already more than enough to keep her mind occupied...

Firstly was Orzel's continuing frustration that she'd still yet to learn just what great calamity menaced her country, only that it was enough to have convinced Mother to send her away... She'd accepted the decision, but only because the woman made a very good point... It was best not to 'keep all of their eggs in one basket', to use an Equestrian idiom. Two tanks were stationed at the gates of Maksym Field whenever she was working there, and Grim and Fable had virtually disappeared... Not because they'd been reassigned, but because it was best for them to remain out of sight. They apparently believed that there was a very good chance Orzel might actually be at risk.

That alone would've been enough to set the girl's mind racing with worries and anxieties of the most potent kind, but then Mother had gone one step further than Orzel ever would've thought possible. The woman had presented Basilisk Defense Technologies with a request on behalf of the Nocturne Agency, including a particularly large Research and Development grant. Not only to develop certain pieces of equipment, but to then construct or otherwise purchase factories to make that equipment as well. Among other things, the ever cautious Luna had authorized her daughter to begin research, not only into her 'intermediate cartridge', but weapons, uniforms, and other assorted destructive devices... Equipment that might very well end up being used against the mysterious enemy. That, more than anything, underscored just how serious the threat actually was.

So severe was the risk that Mother had gone so far as to instruct Orzel to treat her new research as her highest priority, to the exclusion of all other studies, lessons, and every royal duty not pertaining in some way shape or form to the defense of her country. This shift in focus had been simple enough to make, but where Orzel once believed making such a change might be refreshing, now she felt... Well, just a little frazzled. Something was happening, something so terrible it'd scared Mother into letting the girl do something Orzel knew the woman hated, and she still didn't know what it was. Her ideas weren't just thought experiments anymore, they had to be developed and tested as quickly and efficiently as possible, because any delay could potentially put lives at risk.

The threat was therefore dubbed as 'TN' in her notes, meaning either 'The Nameless' or 'Threat Nightmare', she hadn't decided which she preferred as of yet. What scant details she had been given were hardly enough to base a consensus on. TN was a threat that the Nocturne Agency expected to face in forests, deserts, and urban environments. They also wanted her to continue working on her OUBC project, further indicating that they'd prefer if it could also serve as a better means of carrying extra ammunition and other equipment. Developing uniforms and bullet resistant vests for these environments would be one thing, but weapons was another thing entirely... Indeed, it was the weapons that were giving Orzel the most trouble, including the part she was still currently in the process of machining.

The Nocturne Agency requested several different types of firearm, all with an increased volume of fire and ammunition capacity than anything currently in Equestrian armories. Firstly, a new service rifle, preferably semi-automatic, with an average engagement range of less than three-hundred yards, preferably with a folding stock for additional mobility. Secondly, a submachine gun chambered in .45 ACP that would be durable, light, and easy to maintain in the field. Thirdly, a device that could make it easier to lob a grenade, primarily to be used while clearing out caves...

Setting aside for the moment that she knew next to nothing about explosives, there was a lot of work to do and little time for her to do it... At least here, in her workshop. She'd be able to continue her work once she arrived at Amberjack, as Mother was already having a sufficient workshop constructed ahead of her departure, but Lexicos only knew how long that would take to complete. Thus, she had to prioritize the projects that could be worked on with tools one might find in a garage, as those were likely the only implements she'd immediately have access to. The Princess had decided to get to work on the simplest item requested on the Nocturne Agency's list, the SMG.

Orzel had spent hour upon hour among the records and files she'd acquired with the Arsenal, pouring over countless schematics and documents, which had given her a working knowledge of how SMGs function. What she'd feared might be a foray into a highly technical field was actually surprisingly simple, depending on what sort of system she utilized to work the action. Anyone with even a modicum of work tinkering could conceivably design and build an SMG, especially if they'd been given a sizable chunk of money to do it with.

The Princess-turned-gunsmith's biggest breakthrough by far had come as a result of a discreet request made on behalf of the Crown to local law enforcement. They'd been all to happy to allow Orzel a chance to examine some of the 'Garage Built' SMGs and other weapons they'd confiscated in the course of their investigations into various criminal goings on... From a technical standpoint they were quite crude looking, but each apparently functioned to a somewhat adequate extent. It'd also been an eye opening experience in another respect, as the Princess was frankly disturbed by just how many firearms were considered 'SMGs' that actually weren't.

Having reviewed the classification in greater detail, it seemed obvious that whomever had written that particular part of the law had never so much as looked at a firearm, let alone actually understood how they worked. Orzel had come to revere Equestria's Constitution perhaps more highly than even Lexicos' scripture, and her feelings on restrictions of any kind to what weapons a person could or couldn't own were decidedly negative. Those that'd set down those rights seemed quite clear on the matter of keeping and bearing arms...

Much like her feelings about Equestria's military, she found that this too was a political stance that differed from her immediate family. Mother seemed neutral on the matter, whilst Cousin Cadence and Aunt Celestia believed their aught to be some restrictions in place... Celestia was uniquely qualified to speak on the matter, as she'd actually been present for the writing and deliberation of the Constitution, and even she admitted she didn't necessarily agree with everything in it. The right to bear arms had been enshrined, in large part, due to the violence and turmoil that followed the Nightmare War.

According to Celestia, it was a time when many feared another tyrant might seize control, or that the guards of the era would be incapable of protecting them from criminals, bandits, and highwaymen. While Equestria had prevailed, its forces were significantly depleted, and the threat of being overrun by hostile neighbors was very real. That time had largely passed, however, and Celestia and Cadence both agreed that some form of restriction might be beneficial in the long run. Their reasons were admittedly understandable, to reduce crime and keep the populace safe, but again... They'd never lived in the Empire.

Orzel could never imagine a scenario where she'd budge on the matter, it was a hill she would quite literally die on. It was also a stance shared by most of the Black Crown party, especially in southern Lone Star. Orzel knew that to publicly adopt such a position would greatly boost her popularity with them. It'd also paint a very large target on her back for the Noble Party, pun very much intended. For now she had to keep a low political profile, especially given all that was going on, but when she got back...? It'd be a very interesting time 'On the Mountain' indeed.

Setting Orzel's future plans to see about modifying the Firearms Classifications Statute aside for the moment, the exhibition of impounded weaponry had given her a further understanding of where to begin. Firstly, for the purposes of her prototype she'd foregone the typical wood 'furniture' in favor of an all metal construction. This would save on weight, allow her to create a collapsible stock, and minimize the number of tools required for production. Furthermore, much of the weapon itself would be stamped out of sheet metal, with the barrel being the only part that required any sort of precise machining.

It would be reliable, light, and, at an estimated six Bits per unit, plus a modest designer's fee of four Bits for every unit sold and a mark up of eighty percent, would only cost the Army, or anyone buying it, a mere eighteen Bits. Almost quite literally dirt cheap to produce, especially compared to the SMG already in service with the Army, which cost a staggering two-hundred-nine Bits per unit. Every prototype so far utilized a simple blow-back action, fired from an open bolt, and used the thirty round stick magazines standard to SMGs already in service. This would not only simplify ammunition logistics, but also deal with a rather annoying feed problem Orzel had discovered with several prototype purpose built magazines. As development speed was a necessity, and a solution to one of the more crucial components of an SMG already existed, Orzel found it best not to 'reinvent the wheel'...

Sighing tensely and flicking a switch on the side of the mill, Orzel unfastened the piece she'd been working on and used a rag to wipe away excess chips and the slightly warm cutting fluid. Examining the piece very closely, the girl was dismayed to see a few imperfections, but nothing that would render the part, a component of the bolt assembly, useless. It certainly felt heavy enough to do the job, and that was really the only trait it needed, as the weight of the bolt itself was part of what controlled the rate of fire, not to mention safely releasing pressure from the expanding propellant gases.

It made Orzel's skin crawl, but she'd had to incorporate a certain level of backlash into her design... Her earlier prototypes, constructed to exacting and precise standards, had hammered home the point that the real world wasn't like her drawing board. The prototypes worked perfectly well in sterile conditions, but dropping them, jostling them, or smearing them with mud, as might happen on the battlefield, would always lead to a jam or other stoppage. This was merely because certain parts didn't have enough 'slop', to use a vernacular Orzel had found in numerous notes written by the arsenal's former manager. More importantly, building them with such an extreme degree of polish would also make them that much harder to manufacture, and once again speed of production and overall quantity had to be prioritized.

Tucking the finished part in her breast pocket, Orzel quickly and quietly started walking along the factory floor, freshly swept clean of half a decade's worth of dust and debris. They'd done a lot of cleaning up of late, and not just the factory either. She proceeded to jam her hands into her pockets for warmth, once more sighing heavily, resulting in a small cloud of fog. Thinking back on everything that had consumed her thoughts lately, there was a surprising amount of them that weren't inherently negative. Most were neutral, and Orzel would gladly accept that as a win. Deep down, part of Orzel knew she was making more out of some things than there actually was.

To get more hands on experience actually working with machines, she'd made it a point to get a good portion of the vehicles in the motorpool running, including the firetrucks, which she'd already lined up a buyer for... As part of the creation of the Civil Defense Agency, Ponyville had been awarded a grant to found a professional Fire Department. Getting the trucks up and running, double checking all the hoses and the intricate pumping apparatus, had been one of the most complicated and satisfying tasks Orzel had ever undertaken.

Indeed, when not accounting for the cold, or her upcoming departure, or the looming threat of Armageddon... Orzel was actually having quite a bit of fun. More fun than she'd had in a long time, as a matter of fact... She almost couldn't believe it, but the more she thought about, the more she realized that she... She actually felt... Good. It was a feeling she never thought she'd feel again, and here she was, experiencing it as if for the first time. It'd just crept up on her out of nowhere, but as she pondered the sensation of actually not feeling totally miserable, it became clear that she'd been feeling this way for a while... She hadn't even realized it.

The world seemed brighter, and more colorful, the air was crisper, the food tasted better... Every project had been a chance to read about a great many new things, and though she'd had more than a few foul ups along the way, the Princess was a firm believer that she learned more from her mistakes than she did her successes. Learning, experimenting, tinkering, building, succeeding, even failing... No more did she need to make do picking through the Castle's garbage for bits and pieces! It was all so exciting! She'd even picked up a few new machining techniques, not to mention actually getting an opportunity for some hands-on experience!

"Mister Gaze! It is ready!" Orzel called, practically sang, as she approached the familiar spectacled man, likewise attired for the cold. He was in the process of performing a post-test examination of a few prototype 'plates' for the OUBC project. So far it was a toss up between ceramic and hardened steel, at least as far as stopping rifle calibers was concerned. Ceramic was lighter and far better at breaking up high velocity rounds, but it grew weaker with each subsequent strike, there was also the risk of it fracturing if a soldier fell or ran into something. Hardened steel had more durability, but was heavier by a considerable margin.

They'd had far more success with a 'Light Variant', one that might be issued to police officers or sold to the public. In that field Orzel found that an inch thick plate, comprised of layers of laminated fiberglass fabric and resin, was quite capable of handling slower velocity rounds, and theoretically shrapnel and fragmentation. It'd do little to stop a rifle round, but as statistics indicated the majority of gun crimes were committed with handguns, odds were that most of the time it could get the job done. They were nowhere near ready to begin full production, and Orzel really would've preferred to use a material that was lighter, and with a higher tensile strength, but no such material currently existed. Piercing looked over his shoulder, setting his pen down on the work bench, bringing her thoughts back to the present.

"Great, I could use a break." The man grunted, gesturing with his head towards the bench as he too was stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Were you planning to use the same parameters as last time?" He asked as the two of them started walking towards the front of the factory, Orzel merely nodded. "I actually had a call with the Director a few minutes ago, he's pleased with the tests so far, but he thinks they're lacking a few elements..."

"Such as?" Orzel asked, inwardly sighing at the mention of the Director. She'd given him an explicit order, that he was to inform her of all imminent threats, and of course he'd sided with Mother. He also represented another thing Orzel hadn't considered when working with other people's interests in mind, that they had an annoying habit of butting their noses in. Considering the staggering amount of funds the Nocturne Agency was willing to pay, however, Orzel couldn't say she blamed the man for expecting an input on the design and testing parameters. She just needed to work on her 'people skills', or... Maybe hire someone with better said skills, so that she could focus on the actual engineering...

"It's actually something that should be easy to incorporate." Piercing explained, adjusting the scarf wrapped around his neck while the two of them arrived at another workbench, this one sporting Orzel's latest SMG prototype, resting in a disassembled state. "He wants to know how it operates in a snowy environment as well. Not full arctic, mind you, just... Winter." Orzel nodded in understanding, it certainly wouldn't be hard to incorporate snow into her latest battery of tests. The girl took the freshly machined part from her pocket, placing it among the disassembled parts.

"Understandable... In fact, I have been giving further thought to our plans for desert field testing." Explained the Princess as she began assembling the SMG, most of the parts could be installed with either a simple press fit or locking lugs. Part of the collapsible stock could be removed and used as a tool to tighten the more vital components into place, theoretically making it easier to service in the field. "I think we have ample facilities here to commence limited production, I would like to send a small contingent to several Lone Star militias, say... A couple hundred or so. They regularly operate in a desert environment, they would be best qualified to inform us of the design's performance there." Piercing gained a slightly uncertain expression, nervously rubbing at his chin.

"The Agency would prefer these weapons remain a secret for as long as possible." The man warned somewhat half-heartedly. Orzel had expected as much, and she certainly saw the reason for secrecy, but they simply didn't have enough data for her satisfaction. Much as she found his presence bothersome, she couldn't deny that Piercing was a decent assistant and quasi-lab partner... He also was surprisingly adept at the fine arts book keeping and general organization. Orzel was good enough with figures that she could've done it on her own, but it'd take a good deal of time to become as experienced as Piercing. After all, if just anyone could do it, Lexicos wouldn't have seen fit to invent accountants.

"I am under the impression that the Agency would prefer the whole of our armed forces eventually be equipped with these weapons, correct?" Orzel asked as she twisted the barrel into place. She could've used the stock-assembly tool, but it was just easier using her considerable strength to tighten it by hand. Piercing nodded in response to her question, merely observing the assembly over the girl's shoulder. "The Defense Appropriations Committee will be hesitant to purchase from an untested company such as ours. In my readings on advertisements, 'word of mouth' is believed to be the superior method of gaining notoriety."

"If our weapon is a success with the militias, with a more robust sample size of positive outcomes, the DAC may be more inclined to accept it into regular service." The girl tightened the stock into place, then adjusted the amount it was extended. "Furthermore, given we are nearing the 'Dragon Raiding' season, the Agency will get a far better assessment of its performance under actual combat conditions, as well as learning where we may need to make changes."

Of course, her desire to send guns to the militias was based on more than mere design concerns. She hoped to give the militias a little more firepower when dealing with her aggressive dragon cousins to the south. While her as yet unnamed SMG might be ineffective in long range engagements, as was the case with most SMGs, at close range it would be a terror. There was a reason the .45 ACP cartridge was favored by the military. A short fat bullet, traveling at relatively low velocity, could deliver quite a wallop when it struck the target.

Orzel quietly grabbed the charging handle, pulling it back with a satisfying mechanical clack, then closed the dust cover, which incidentally also served as the weapon's safety. Regardless, the girl made sure to keep her finger away from the trigger as she examined the now fully assembled weapon. Empty, it weighed just under seven pounds, a whole three pounds lighter than the SMG currently in service with. It didn't seem like much, but that three pounds meant just a smidgin more other vital equipment a soldier could carry.

Fully assembled, the weapon more resembled an industrial tool than a submachine gun. It was compact, and its short stubby barrel combined with its collapsing stock would make it small enough to fit in a backpack. The sheet metal had been painted slate gray, with the weapon's serial number, '05', and place of origin, 'Maksym Arsenal', stamped just rear of the rectangular ejection port, as was required by Equestrian law. The pistol and angled fore grip where gnarled, which would hopefully make it easier to hold onto. At a glance, Orzel supposed it almost looked like a heavy duty rivet gun, of the type typically used in the construction of ships...

"I am only one person, and as smart as I may seem, I cannot plan for every eventuality." Orzel stated pointedly, briefly shouldering the weapon, ensuring the muzzle was pointed only at the ground as she double checked the alignment of its sights... A simple v-notch and post, though she'd opted to add three small dots of Sokolite, one on either side of the rear sight and one on the post. In the dark, these dots would fluoresce a bright emerald color, thus making it easier to aim. This was another feature requested by the Agency. "If we send them through typical logistical channels, which I remind you allowed several thousand perfectly good rifles to be abandoned at this very base, it could be months before these Rivet Guns of ours ever see a battlefield. Do we have months to spare, Mister Gaze?"

"No... I suppose we don't." Piercing acquiesced as Orzel made her way to the front door. "I'll bring it up with the Director, but he may still decline." The girl merely hummed in acknowledgment, of course Piercing would bring it up with Orcus, and Aunt Celestia, and Mother... With the weapon now fully assembled, sans a magazine, the two of them continued their conversation while moving towards the exit."So, 'Rivet Gun', eh? I would've gone with 'Fire Nozzle'."

"I actually considered naming it 'Wodór'." Orzel admitted once they'd stepped outside, trudging through the freezing snow, which was up to about Orzel's waist, towards one of the two-and-a-half ton 6x6 supply trucks from the motorpool, which at present was parked beside the factory. This one in particular recently had a snowplow mounted to its front, after Orzel went through the trouble of replacing half a dozen rotted hoses, seals, not to mention the tires. Due to her slight size, she had little trouble crawling under the truck, allowing her to work comfortably with the engine. It'd been yet another soothing experience, actually, much like working on the firetrucks. Getting to work with all those bits and pieces up close, it gave her renewed appreciation for the humble wrench and socket.

Now her thoughts were getting off topic, as she could see Piercing didn't comprehend the meaning of 'Wodór'. Orzel didn't hold that against him, they hadn't gotten around to covering the Szafirian translations of the periodic table... Granted some of those 'translations' were words Orzel made up solely for the purposes of her notes, as the Empire's periodic table was far less extensive than Equestria's.

"It means 'Hydrogen', which has an atomic weight of one. This is our company's first weapon..." Orzel elaborated, at that Piercing gained a look of understanding, then winced with an accompanying 'so-so' hand gesture. Which was about the same reaction she'd had upon actually saying the name out loud. "I agree, the Basilisk PM-72 'Rivet Gun' sounds much better." Again, the man winced ever so faintly at the weapon's designation. The '72' referred to the last digits of the current year according to the Szafirian calender, rather than the Equestrian one, yet another tactic Orzel employed to confuse anyone that might attempt to steal her notes. One could never be too careful, especially now.

"I still think we should stick to Equestrian when it comes to the initials..." Argued Piercing, just as Orzel had expected. This was a conversation they'd had several times so far. Rather, Piercing had brought it up numerous times and the Princess consistently declined to change her mind. "Pistolet Maszynowy doesn't really trip of the tongue. BSMG, Basilisk Sub-Machine Gun, is far easier to pronounce."

Sometimes Orzel wondered if he just brought it up for the sake of trying to get a rise out of her, maybe he used it as one of his 'tests'... By now it was obvious he wasn't just here to assist her, or to better learn Szafirian. Mister Gaze was a spy, her Mother's spy to be precise, undoubtedly relaying whatever she did back to Luna at the end of each day. Orzel first become suspicious shortly after Piercing asked that ridiculous question about 'having a higher purpose'... Subsequent odd questions had made it all the more obvious. Of course, Piercing had to know that Orzel knew that he was a spy, and Orzel knew that Piercing knew that she knew that as well... Espionage could be quite confusing. So long as he remained a helpful and competent assistant, however, Orzel saw no reason to openly confront Piercing about it.

The girl stopped beside the supply truck and opened the driver's side door, tossing the PM-72 onto the bench seat within the cab. She was about eye level with said bench, and for a few moments struggled to climb up into the truck itself. By now Orzel was used to it, though she still wasn't going to admit defeat without at least trying first. Still, between the snow, the slightly constraining nature of her flight suit's leather, and the length of her legs, it proved impossible to reach the first step in any sort of dignified manner.

Momentarily Orzel tried actually jumping up, but the ground was too slick, and she nearly fell backwards onto her rear. Piercing snapped his fingers, his magic arresting her fall and helping her to get her feet back under her. Then he conjured into being a small flowing platform, which finally allowed her to step up and awkwardly wriggle into the driver's seat.

"Thank you, Mister Gaze." Mumbled the Princess's, punctuating her gratitude with rather dejected sigh. She closed the door, then watch the man trudge around the front of the truck, eventually climbing in on the passenger side. He managed to do so in with far greater ease, then paused briefly to rub his hands together for warmth. "Two initials versus four, 'PM' saves two letters. It will be cheaper to stamp on the completed weapons." Orzel continued as she flicked a switch on the dashboard, a her eyes drawn to a darkened orange indicator beside the switch, indicating the glow plugs were warming up. Eager to move on from the subject, the truck gave the girl a quick path to a different topic.

"I have given further thought to the 'Rapid Deployment Vehicle' concepts the Director requested." Orzel pivoted the conversation, waiting until the indicator flickered on before she pulled the starter knob. The starter itself whined, the engine sputtering and making all sorts of noise. Orzel pressed the accelerator a few times, adding a little more fuel to the mix. The diesel coughed several times, then rumbled to life with a deep thunderous rumble. Thick gray smoke coughed forth from the exhaust pipe, quickly dispersing on a gentle southerly breeze. "I am thinking it would be easier to replace the quarter-ton truck with one that has higher ground clearance, something better suited to mounting a heavy machine gun... I also think perhaps an autogyros might be a good idea." The girl put the truck into gear, something she'd been having a little trouble with seeing as she'd only been driving for a couple weeks. This time she only accidentally ground the gears once before the vehicle lurched forward.

"An autogyro?" Piercing's skepticism was easy to discern, though Orzel tried not to let it distract her as she started driving the truck towards the nearest aircraft hangar. "I mean, I can see why they'd draw your attention, but... Do you really think the technology will ever go anywhere?" Orzel shrugged, adjusting a lever on a small control panel that in turn manipulated the snow plow, clearing a path along the road as the truck rumbled along.

"I admit, I have my doubts, at least in its current state. Still, there is enough potential to warrant further development. If we could somehow build one that could take off and land totally vertically? The applications could go far beyond the military. Search and rescue at sea, rapid medical evacuations, it could be revolutionary..." The truck rumbled along with the Princess at the wheel, jostling both occupants in their seats. The suspension left a bit to be desired, but that was a job that'd been moved to the bottom or the girl's to-do list on account of everything else going on.

"That is why I would like you to approach a few aviation engineers about it, then ask the Army to ship five quarter-ton trucks ahead to Amberjack Island. That way I can begin modifications sooner, rather than later..." Instructed Orzel, Piercing took a small notebook from his pocket and began jotting the instructions down in it, then looked at her, then... Back at his book. He was certainly a note taker, and quite thorough... She'd been giving another matter some serious thought, that being the disposition of her company's assets in mainland Equestria whilst she was temporarily at Amberjack. "Mister Gaze." The man hummed in acknowledgment. "I realize that you are already a busy man, I would not hold it against you if you decline, but seeing as I will soon be unable to manage our workshop directly..."

"I'll mind the store for you, but only until you get back." Piercing agreed with that trademarked jovial tone of his, evidently attempting to lift Orzel's spirits. "I might need to hire some extra hands though, and someone to fix the heat. Any major decisions come up? Well, I can just pop on over to Amberjack and ask. It's still your company, after all." He rubbed at his chin as they pulled up to the looming aircraft hangar. Orzel's brow furrowed ever so slightly as she brought the truck to a stop, a somewhat jerky one, seeing as her feet just barely reached the pedals.

"My company..." Orzel repeated the words as she turned off the engine. "That is another matter that concerns me. Is it not a conflict of interests that a company owned by a Princess is being paid by her own government to develop and produce arms and equipment for a profit?" Piercing stowed the notebook back in his pocket, once more taking on that thoughtful look of his. Orzel meanwhile opened her door, grabbing the PM-72 from the seat and awkwardly descending to the snow covered tarmac below.

"I'm not quite sure." Piercing began as he too exited the truck, and together the two of them made their way towards the waiting hangar access door. "You don't just own BDT, your an active employee. We're using your ideas, your schematics, your prototypes." He opened the door and stood aside, allowing Orzel to enter into the darkly shadowed hangar ahead of him. What awaited her beyond was a massive cavern of steel, dimly lit by windows that ran across an upper section of the flat exterior faces.

"Here's an idea... Have you ever heard of commission sales?" The man asked curiously, Orzel nodded, waiting for him to step inside, then closing the door behind him. "So, here's what I think. If your company generates more profit for you in a year than you would be paid for performing your duties as Princess, you don't take any money for those duties. If you make less, you only take enough to make up the difference. Maybe even turn the excess salary into a tax refund or something? Even in my time, there was nothing people like more than getting their money back from the Government." Orzel pondered the theory while she felt around along the wall, until finally she arrived at a bank of light switches.

"An interesting idea..." She agreed, flicking the switches up, on after another. Steadily, in rhythmic fashion, the great overhead lights of the aircraft hanger burst forth with vibrant pale light. "I shall have to discuss it with Mother, of course."

Piercing abruptly cracked his knuckles, with a suddenness that quickly shifted Orzel's attention to something else. Her stomach was growling, ever so faintly... She'd had her typical breakfast, a large portion of protein and calories, but lately even that hadn't been enough to last until midday... Draconic metabolisms could be really bothersome, even downright paradoxical. Orzel could theoretically go several months without eating, centuries even, if she ever chose to 'hibernate'.

The problem was that if she wasn't regularly keeping up her intake, even if it was for only a couple hours or so, her mood would drastically begin to shift. Her temper flared, her anxiety spiked, and there were very few things that didn't strike her as irksome when in a hungry state. Even meditation failed to fully correct the issue, and more and more Orzel found herself riding a fine line between the extremes of emotion and the calm collected exterior she so ardently maintained.

Of course, part of her suspected her increasingly early hunger might've had something to do with what'd become her recent 'Lunch Time' habit... Ponyville was only a five minute flight away on Fantom, at least when Orzel really poured on the coal, much to Mother's annoyance. Spike had likewise been undergoing physical changes since his own near-Elemental Transformation, he'd grown several inches taller, his muscles were more pronounced... He'd even started growing a beard, as every attempt to shave the stone-like fibers resulted in a ruined razor blade. Apparently he too suffered from the issue of having hair that disliked being cut.

Spike also seemed more... Confident, assured of himself, but never arrogant. This was made clear whenever the two of them spoke, as he could articulate his thoughts and argue his points with greater enthusiasm than before. His convictions were stronger, his statements bolder, his mind sharper... That was the most endearing change Orzel had noted, and though they occasionally argued, those arguments were some of the most spirited and thoughtful debates the Princess had encountered, outside of her family's nightly dinner... Incidentally, Orzel had an open invitation to stop by the Library at just about any time. Thus she'd made it a daily ritual of hers to visit Spike for lunch, and there was little that could get her to deviate from that routine, short of vital work on her weapons...

"After this round of testing is complete, I think I would like to take a ride over to Ponyville for lunch..." The Princess stated matter-of-factly, once more restoring her attention to the task at hand. "For now, let us commence with testing. Environment Foxtrot, please."

Piercing snapped his fingers, bathing the otherwise empty hangar space in a brief and brilliant flash of white light, bright enough that Orzel had to shield her eyes. It lasted for a few seconds before winking out entirely, leaving the interior of the aircraft hangar looking far different than before. Where once there was empty floor space, now it was as if a small forest had suddenly sprouted into being, complete with dirt, rocks, undergrowth, and even a small stream that ran along the center. This remarkably compact grove of nature was surrounded on all sides by a barely visible wall of yellow magic energy, intended to stop any stray rounds from passing through.

A dedicated firing range would eventually be constructed on site, but for now this would do nicely. It was a remarkable boon to have a powerful spell-caster on the payroll, especially one capable of creating such convincing facsimiles of real world terrain. He could also manifest targets, magical manifestations of everything from bulls-eyes to realistic humanoids that moved, acted, and fought as their real counterparts might. All of it amounted to yet another reason Orzel content to ignore Piercing's spying...

Typically this was the part where Orzel would hand the PM-72 off to one of the agents from her security detail, as Mother still wasn't sanguine about the girl actually operating a firearm. Orzel had never actually fired one, even having spent so much time building and refining her prototypes. It wasn't for lack of trying either, as she'd aced just about every written safety test Grim and Fable came up with, memorizing all the vital rules of firearm safety.

Rule one, the firearm was always loaded, even when it wasn't. Rule two, never ever point the firearm at anything she wasn't willing to utterly destroy. Rule three, she was to keep her finger off the trigger until such time as she actually was ready to fire, especially with an automatic weapon. Rule four, be mindful of her target and what lays beyond her target. As she'd learned from observing the effects of .30-06 rounds fired at close range, just because she hit what she was aiming at didn't necessarily mean the bullet would stop traveling, there was also the real possibility of missing her target altogether. Rule five, if a cartridge failed to fire, she was to handle the weapon incredibly delicately and dispose of the problem cartridge in a safe and cautious manner. Rule six, especially important considering they would be firing in an enclosed space, was to always, always, always wear ear and eye protection.

Orzel could recite these rules by heart, and could do so from left to right, right to left, front to back, back to front, in Equestrian, Szafirian, and Draconic, or any combination thereof. Ultimately she'd only been able to convince her minders that she was actually ready by doing precisely that, as proving that she understood just how serious proper firearms safety was in not one, not two, but three languages made it rather difficult for Grim or Fable to refuse. Still, up until recently they'd been giving her a firm 'No'... In the end, oddly enough, it had to be Mother that stepped in and gave the okay. Orzel took Mother's permission to mean that however much the woman hated letting the girl do her work, she at least trusted her to do so safely, and considering some of the impulsive experiments Orzel had pulled... That meant a lot.

Once more checking over the weapon to ensure it was ready for the test, the Princess approached a small workbench, seated within the magic wall, at the very edge of the test area. It, like the forest itself, had been manifested by Piercing's magic. Upon this bench were numerous tools that could be used to make minor tweaks and adjustments to the PM-72 without having to go all the way back to the workshop, as well as several sets of ear and eye protection, plus a stack of ten fully loaded thirty-round stick magazines.

Both Piercing and Orzel donned their protective gear, then the Princess picked up one of the magazines, searching for any visible defects. The magazine itself bore several scratches and knicks where the black paint was worn away, while the polished brass casing and copper jacket of the top round gave back dull reflections. It still amazed her that something no larger than her thumb could be so deadly... The percussion cap weapons in use in the Empire were far more complex to load, at least, if her Father's anecdotes were anything to go by.

It was a delicate dance, pouring the powder, slipping in the wad, tamping down the ball, seating the cap itself... Thirty to forty seconds of meticulous work certainly seemed a more theatrical lead up to the firing of a weapon, but there was little place for theatrics on the mechanizing battlefields of Equus.

"I am loading the weapon." Orzel stated loudly and clearly, for Piercing, or anyone else to hear. She slipped the stick into the magazine well. "The weapon is hot, we will now commence the 'Sustainability of Fire' test. Target, twenty-five yards." That was a slightly more eloquent way of stating that Orzel intended to fire the weapon until she either ran out of spare magazines or the weapon jammed, overheated, or suffered any other mechanical malfunction.

The record was six and a half magazines, as of their last SoF Test, which realistically was more than adequate. Odds were there wouldn't be a scenario where the weapon would be firing magazine after magazine for such a sustained period of time, especially as it was easier to control when fired in two or three round bursts. Still, Orzel wanted to make sure she'd worked out the 'seizing' issue her earlier prototypes suffered from, and that the bolt assembly was still weighted properly. Keeping her finger off the trigger and the muzzle pointed safely at the ground, the Princess stepped forward, nodding towards one of the trees at approximately twenty-five yards down range. Moments later, a paper silhouette appeared on its trunk with a whoosh of arcane energy.

The anticipation was at first difficult to put into words, all Orzel could articulate was that holding a fully loaded firearm certainly felt a lot different than an unloaded one. What made it that much more electrifying was that it was her design, this wasn't some model steam engine, or repairing a faulty lawnmower, or disassembling a toaster... She herself had crafted every component with her own two hands, from design to completion. She'd seen others get to use it, and now... Finally... It was her turn to take it for a spin.

By now the Princess recognized her feelings with greater accuracy, and all the memories those feelings conjured. It was the same sensation Orzel had felt when first she'd laid eyes upon the inner mechanisms of a ticking clock, for in that instant, though she hadn't realized it at the time, she'd fallen in love with machinery and technology... It was the same way with her first successful foray into Enchanting, her first exposure to Equestrian music, her first time reading through the articles of the Equestrian constitution, and when she'd first laid atop her hoard.

Orzel couldn't help feeling a strange and elemental power stirring deep inside her, as if every fiber of her being, every muscle, ever strand of hair, was synchronizing with one another. Sometimes she might feel something similar when attending prayer services, but doing so required a good deal of work, and a surprisingly deep level of meditative concentration. This time... This time she had her eyes wide open... Flipping open the dust cover, and be extension removing the safety, Orzel exhaled slowly and brought the muzzle of the weapon up to bear on the target. The first round gleamed up at her through the ejection port, waiting for her to send it down range, as if goading her into doing so.

Bringing her finger down to rest on the trigger, the Princess set her jaw and prepared herself for the whirlwind of lead, fire, and fury she was about to unleash. She squeezed slowly, and noted for future reference that the trigger pull seemed just a little stiff, but that was a concern for later. In one tense moment the trigger came back all the way, the bolt surged forward. In one fluid motion it scooped the top round off the magazine, then slammed it into the chamber. The firing pin struck the primer, the powder ignited, the pressure built and built, hurtling the bullet down the barrel faster than the speed of sound, giving rise to a resounding glorious crescendo!

For a few blissful moments it was as if time itself had slowed down, giving Orzel a moment to truly take in and appreciate the delicate ballet of her creation in all its splendor. A rhythmic baritone 'Bam! Bam! Bam!' cut through the air, the gun continuing steadily to chop away. Smoldering brass cases danced tumbled through the air, trailing faint wisps of smoke behind them as they were ejected from the weapon, their job thoroughly completed. Each eruption of fire from muzzle accompanied an easily controlled pulse of recoil, owed to the PM-72's gnarled grips, compact size, and its slow cyclical rate, which topped out somewhere around four-hundred-fifty rounds per minute.

Taken as a whole, that first chattering burst of fire instilled in Orzel a deeper love for the machine she'd so carefully crafted than she would've thought possible... This sensation of awe at the powers of physics in motion, she realized, was something she could get quite used to. The target upon tree in question was quickly struck, each impact throwing off tiny fragments of paper and bark, exposing the white wood beneath with every round that slammed home. The grouping wasn't about what she'd expected of her creation, with the rounds generally striking the target silhouette in the '9' to '10' rings, though a few stragglers wandered off into the '8'.

Orzel wasted no time in ejecting the spent magazine when weapon ran empty, swiftly slamming another one home and racking back the bolt. Another steady 'Bam! Bam! Bam!' ripped through the air, on and on she went, depleting one magazine only to replace it with another, over and over again. By the end of the sixth magazine the Princess found it impossible to constrain the almost predatory grin that'd spread across her face, nor did she really feel a need to.

With racing pulse and panting breaths, Orzel's eyes took on a distinctly reptilian appearance. The emerald orbs glowed as bright as the dawn, focusing in on the silhouette as if it were some delightfully tasty morsel of bloody raw steak. She couldn't help it, she was just so... Hungry. Everything else around her faded into the background, all was superfluous, there may as well have been nothing else in all creation than the Princess, her gun, and her target. Each successive shot accompanied an adrenaline surge, accented by unspeakable elation and an insatiable hunger for more.

This was one of the few changes that'd come about after her near Elemental Transformation that the Princess actually viewed as a positive... As heightened as her negative emotions might've become, their positive counterparts were just as equally amplified. The great slumbering beast she kept under lock and key had found an outlet for its fury, if only for a brief moment, and for that brief time Orzel had again entered a state of perfect, beautiful, efficient, predatory synchronicity. It felt so liberating to not constrain the aggression, such a rush of emotion that Orzel was genuinely sad she couldn't indulge that facet of herself more often.

Each successive magazine went just as smoothly as the first, even as she felt the angled forward grip physically warming up in her hands. Were she an Equestrian it was very likely she'd stop for fear of burning herself, but between the rampaging endorphins and frigid cold air that filled the hangar, she actually welcomed the rising heat. Every movement she made to reload was so perfectly timed as to appear almost mechanical in nature, like one pint-sized destructive wind up toy. Orzel could do this all day...

'Bam! Bam! Bam! Clack!'. Orzel swiftly reached to the table, eager for the chance to burn through the next magazine, only to realize that there was no 'next magazine'... She'd fired all ten magazines without a single stoppage, and while the weapon was certainly hot, it hadn't overheated or seized up. Smoke coiled lazily upwards from the muzzle, the barrel itself now glowing a vibrant cherry hue... The vapors danced and twisted in the calm air of the aircraft hangar's interior, and all around her the Princess found herself in a faint haze of whitish-gray smoke... Evidently 'smokeless powder' wasn't nearly as smokeless as advertised.

Orzel inhaled the fog deeply through her nose, basking briefly in the heady bouquet of expended powder, scorched brass, and red hot steel. To say she was crestfallen that there were no further magazines to fire at present would be an understatement, but... Her fun was over now, and as much as she wanted more of that rush that came from expressing her more aggressive emotions, she nonetheless had a job to do. Now would begin the arduous, and slightly tedious, process of measuring the weapon's temperature, the temperature of the hand guard, the bolt assembly, and so on... That would be fun too! Just... Not as fun as mag-dumping three-hundred rounds of .45 ACP ammunition with a submachine gun, but... Still fun!

Orzel removed the final empty magazine and double checked that the chamber was clear, racking the bolt back and forth several times just to be sure. Then she placed the weapon on the table, doing so with a reverence and gentleness she reserved only for her most cherished of model warships. She could picture now, in her mind's eye, the night that Cesarski had burned... She imagined the soldiers in the Empire's capital city, each equipped with the PM-72 she'd built.

In the simplicity of its construction, she couldn't help but imagine the Empire actually might've been able to produce something similar, a weapon that very well might've shifted the outcome of so much devastation. More importantly, it was exactly the sort of thing the Empire would never have allowed its subjects to possess. With one PM-72, a man might very well hold off an entire company of Imperial soldiers, or even the feared Sapphire Guard... The most feared 'civil' guards in the Empire, and the obedient lackies of none other than the MIS.

With ten PM-72s, a hundred, a thousand...? The MIS would never dare to set foot inside of her family's, or anyone else's family's, home again. She'd seen weapons that could level the playing field, the AAR, the SMG-45, but only now, after firing one for herself, did the picture come further together. It was a seven pound amalgam of sheet metal and turned steel, and yet she'd instantly come to love it, as one might love a particularly fine painting or a cherished family heirloom. It was all the clearer to her in that instant, just where she stood on the topic of arms... If anyone was ever foolish enough to attempt to confiscate the PM-72 from her personage, they would have to do so by prying it from her cold, dead, hands.

"Let's see how hot it is..." Piercing stated curiously, reaching out to put his hand on the weapon. Orzel inwardly had to refrain from trying to snatch the weapon away, mentally reminding herself that the man wasn't attempting to take what was, to her, one of the the newest an most magnificent items in her hoard. Piercing's palm glowed faintly for a few moments, then faded out. He then took the notebook from his pocket, turning to a different page and scribbling his findings within. Orzel pulled out her own notebook, looking at Piercing's notes, then transcribing the findings down in her own. "So... Lunch?" Orzel looked at the PM-72 for a few moments, then bit her lower lip.

She licked her lips, she was most certainly hungry, but... Something felt different. Looking past the edge of her nose, she experimentally stuck her tongue out... The Princess froze, as now could see her tongue by quite a decent margin, and what was more... It'd taken on a distinctly forked appearance, and she could move it with remarkable dexterity. She could... Taste the air. The powder, the brass, the steel, the pine sap oozing from the freshly perforated tree... Piercing likewise took note of the new development, and Orzel could hardly keep her shoulder's from slouching.

"Do cholery..." She swore in Szafirian, sighing heavily through her nose and pinching the bridge of her nose. The change to her tongue had likewise altered the sound of her voice, giving it an almost two toned sound and exacerbating her native accent to even greater heights. "Thisss isss in-tol-er-able!" She groaned in Equestrian, well... More hissed than groaned. "Jussst asssss I am get-ting usssed to ssspeaking your en-sssuff-er-ably sssoft lan-guage!" The Princess took several deep breaths, and at this point she also became aware of the change to her eyes, as she could observe their slitted reptilian appearance in one of the shiny spent shell casings that'd landed on the workbench. She lifted her spectacles, briefly taking the world out of focus, then set them back on her nose. "I vasss hav-ink good day too..." Orzel looked at Piercing. "Isss bahd, tak?" She asked, gesturing to her eyes.

"Of course not!" Piercing responded, almost a little too rapidly for Orzel's liking. "Look, they're your eyes, and they're perfectly natural for a dragon. Like it or not, there's not much we can do to change them..." The Princess wanted to speak, but the man held up a hand. "You thought you could speed read before, right? Well, imagine how fast you can read now that your eyes have fully developed!"

That... Was actually a very good point, and it certainly took a lot of the sting out of yet another physical change that Orzel, personally, had to be ugliest draconic feature she'd gained yet... Orzel hated to admit it, as she still didn't wholly trust the man, but... Maybe it was just the lingering rush from the experiment, or just her new overall more positive mood, either way she was actually starting to like him.

"As for the tongue thing?" Piercing continued with a surprisingly renewed chipper attitude, perhaps picking up on Orzel's transition from merely tolerating his presence to tacitly accepting him. "The best thing you can do right now as far as the speech is concerned to focus on the hissing. Don't worry as much about pronunciation or sentence structure. Once you get enough practice keeping the hiss to a minimum, it'll be easier to go back to speaking normally." Orzel gave the suggestion a few moments thoughts, then nodded, once more conceding defeat to her accent... For the moment, at least.

"I will take under advisement." Orzel responded, making quite a concerted effort to keep from extending the 'S' in the final word. "Though hungry, I am want to run through tessst again. Dwadzieścia-" She stopped herself. "Twenty more times, at very small. Expanding sssample size, make better resultsss, tak?" She decided, making several more notations in her book. Much as she hated the change, she still had a job to do... And doing so might actually help take her mind off of things. "Firssst, I adjust trigger, then ssstrip and clean-ink weapon for next test..." She paused for a moment, briefly gnawing on the end of her pencil. "Could alssso make opportunity to examining barrel wear. Only after tesssts completed do we break for lunch." Piercing nodded in acceptance of the idea, setting his notebook on the table whilst Orzel began to disassemble the PM-72's trigger assembly.

"You just want to keep firing it, don't you?" Piercing asked skeptically, Orzel merely nodded her head. "Thought so..." He removed his ear protectors and set them on the table. "Maybe I could run the test a couple times?" The Princess paused in her work for a moment, both to pick up one of the nearby tools and to consider the man's request.

"Mussst be keep to test parameters, make ssstatic as possible. Introduce new variables, mid ssstudy? Could contaminate resssults." Orzel concluded studiously, waiting just a few moments before allowing a ghost of a smirk to emerge. "You jussst have to be run-ink through twenty tesssts of your own..." Piercing nodded at the suggestion, snapping his fingers and summoning several crates of .45 ACP rounds beside the table. Hopefully Spike wouldn't mind a slight delay in Orzel's arrival for lunch... While part of her wanted to blow off some steam, especially given the latest development, another part wanted to take some time practicing her new manner of speech... She already looked bad enough, she didn't want to add to that by coming off as a poor speaker as well.

The scent of paper and dusty shelves lingered in cozy atmosphere of Golden Oak Library, even several hours after Spike had finished restoring the day's bevy of book returns to their proper places. The aroma had by and large been supplanted by gingerbread and hot chocolate, Twilight's winter drink of choice... Spike's as well. Lately his Mom had been busy assisting Mayor Mare with a considerable amount of paperwork, work that Spike suspected very well was the result of recent... Political developments. Currently the woman was making use of the larger reading table in the library, tending to the matters of local governance too complex for her son to take more than a casual interest in. Something about 'evacuation plans' and zoning permits for a new road that might possibly be running through Ponyville.

As Spike sat quietly at the kitchen table, staring out at the falling snow, he found himself grateful for the mug of cocoa steaming on the table in front of him. The newest shipment of EG-1 novels had just come in, which had yet to find shelf space, as it meant transferring some other books to storage. That would be akin to pulling teeth with Twilight, and seeing how she was so busy already, there was bound to be some delay. That at least reduced Spike's regular work load, if only temporarily. Where usually he had to run errands around town, winter meant most of his time was spent at home.

At times it could become quite boring, but it beat trudging through the snow. Spike still had his models, and the weekly game of O&O, but otherwise he'd probably just catch up on his reading... Or make holiday snacks, which Twilight would then set out in the library for the odd person that might wander in for a book. Speaking of snacks, his stomach was giving him all sorts of fits today. It wasn't on account of anything that he'd eaten, quite the opposite in fact... He was waiting for Orzel, who was an hour overdue for their lunch...

It wasn't uncommon for Orzel to occasionally take a while to arrive, between weather conditions and other factors beyond her control, Spike was actually impressed at how consistent she was. This was by far the longest she'd made him wait, not that the young man was upset over that fact. Despite his discomfort and slightly worsening temper, Spike was more than happy to wait if it meant spending time with his favorite Princess.

The radio played faint Hearth's Warming songs, further adding to the picturesque scene unfolding outside. Spike took a large sip from his mug of cocoa, which Twilight had made according to a recipe from Pinkie Pie... As such, it was probably about the richest thing he'd ever tasted, and that helped to assuage his persistent hunger pain. He could've eaten lunch three times by now, but... It just wouldn't be the same. Spike relished every opportunity he had to sit down and talk with the Princess, about any topic, really... Especially considering such opportunities would soon come to an abrupt end.

Orzel had given an address at which Spike could write her, though he doubted it was the actual address, seeing as the girl's departure and subsequent location apparently was supposed to be a State Secret. The news was disappointing to say the least, especially as he'd planned to ask Orzel to maybe stop by for dinner when Twilight was out... Spike had just about got the courage up to make his pitch, but... Then the Princess had to go and tell him she was leaving. Since then, Spike hesitated to broach the topic even slightly.

After all, the decision to leave wasn't Orzel's, and the young man didn't want to make an already difficult situation worse. Though she couldn't give an exact reason as to why she had to go, it didn't take a rocket surgeon to figure out that the suddenness of the decision and the State Secret angle probably had something to do with 'National Security'. Whatever the actual cause, Spike could see that it rattled the Princess considerably whenever they talked about it. If it was enough to rattle Orzel, well... The last thing she needed to worry about was him asking her out to dinner.

That wasn't to say Spike was giving up, far from it. Orzel would come back to Equestria one day, and Faust willing, he'd be able to make his request. For now Spike had been making do with their daily lunches, spending as much time as possible with the Princess, doing his best to support his friend in her time of difficulty.

Every now and again he'd get it in his head that he should just come out and ask her, or at the very least tell her how he felt. Try as he might, it was just one scenario where Spike couldn't bring himself just bite the bullet and get it over with... Then he'd remember just how important his correspondence with the Princess was to both of them. To bring up such a topic, so close to her date of departure on the day after Hearth's Warming Eve, could very well upset that correspondence. Still, Spike supposed he could use Orzel's departure to his future advantage, it'd give him time to really hit the gym and maybe even start looking into those 'Trendy Technology' magazines the Princess regularly talked about. Then he might be able to understand more of what she said whenever she talked about that sort of stuff...

His relationship with Orzel wasn't the only thing that had Spike 'spinning his wheels', to use Big Mac's words. The young man had recently had another important talk with Twilight about his desire to help people as more than be a librarian, this time in a field far closer to home... Ponyville was putting together a new professional Fire Department, part of some new initiative by a recently founded 'Civil Defense Agency'. It was apparently going to be very different from the volunteer fire department that currently serviced the town's needs, and the pay was certainly nothing to laugh at either. The only catch was that in the event of a National Emergency, say a massive wildfire or other calamity, the Department could be called upon to assist local fire services wherever the trouble was, which... Just seemed like it should be a no-brainer to begin with.

They were looking for volunteers that were sturdily built, physically fit, who didn't particularly mind fire all that much. As a dragon, Spike was all three of these things. Big Macintosh had been selected to serve as the department's 'Chief', and he'd offered Spike a position, but as was the case with the Navy, he'd have to produce a parental release form. He was hoping that the fact it'd be based in Ponyville, and that he wouldn't be at risk of hurting someone else, might just be enough to convince his Mom to sign off. Twilight hadn't outright refused as was the case last time, so Spike was cautiously optimistic...

Sighing faintly, the young man rubbed at his chin and cheeks, which he'd only just recently managed to clear of bothersome stubble. It took a trip to the hardware store, but he'd finally found a means of 'shaving' again... It just required a hand-held belt grinder, originally intended for getting into small difficult places. While not strong enough to harm his skin, which had grown far more durable of late, the grinder was just strong enough to do away with those pesky whiskers. The only downside, especially given the current weather, was that had to do so outside, as the act of shaving now created a great deal of sparks... He could only imagine the sort of hardware the barber might need to employ when he next went in for a proper haircut.

Looking at his reflection in the window, the young man moved his lips about, examining the only bit of facial hair he'd retained... A large bushy mustache. Apparently that was the new 'style', at least according to every other man he'd seen applying to join the FDPV. As he was admiring the crop of bushy dark green hairs, however, Spike spotted the familiar outline of Orzel on her broomstick fly briskly through the snow. As usual she had a satchel slung around her torso, but this time she was also carrying a brown paper bag. She waved at him with her free hand, balancing hands-free on the broomstick as she flew past, quickly making her way out of sight... A few moments later, as had happened so many times before, Spike heard the front door open.

"Allo, Miss Sparkle!" By now Spike was well enough attuned to her monotonous manner of speech that he could tell this was a very cheerful greeting, he could practically hear the 'smile' in her voice. "I sorry for tardinessss. Would have called, but not expect work to be lassst as long. I buy food to say sssorry."

Spike rose from his seat and made his way out into the reading room, pausing to lean in the door frame as he watched the Princess unzip her snow spattered bomber jacket and lean the broomstick beside the door. As usual the lower portion of her face was concealed beneath a section of her headscarf. What was unusual was her manner of speaking... Which was accented strangely. Twilight meanwhile looked up from her paperwork, offering a smile of her own, though Spike could tell that she too was surprised by the Princess altered method of speech.

"It's perfectly alright, Orzel. You didn't have to do that!" The woman responded, adjusting her spectacles and looking over the papers. There were hundreds of them, laid out in different piles of varying heights. "I ate an hour or so ago, and I've got a lot of work to do. Why don't you and Spike eat without me." Orzel cast a look at Spike, then nodded at the suggestion. She quickly removed her jacket and hung it beside the door, though she was still wearing the familiar 'Flight Suit' underneath. Wiping her boots on the floor mat, the girl carried both her satchel and the brown paper bag with her towards the kitchen.

"Good afternoon, SSSpike." Orzel greeted amiably, peering up at him with those verdant eyes of hers, glowing faintly behind a pair of thick prescription lenses... Just as every time before, the young man was briefly struck dumb by their beauty, but also... He noticed that they looked different than the day before, having the slitted features of a reptile, which... To him, made them all the more stunning. He was far better at collecting himself through experience, and there almost no visible trace of the brief tangent of his thoughts.

"Good afternoon, my Lady." Spike was gratified to see that Orzel's reaction to that greeting remained the same, though this time he suspected she might blame the flush to her checks on the cold weather she'd just flown through. Regardless, Spike stepped out of the doorway and back into the kitchen, making ample room for Orzel to follow behind. Sniffing at the air, he hoped to guess what she might've brought for lunch... Odds were it was burgers, or maybe sandwiches, but... There was something else in the air. Something he'd smelled a few times on Big Macintosh, apparently the scent of expended smokeless powder. Like most things, what Orzel was up to lately was a secret, but again... It didn't take a brain scientist to figure out it probably had something to do with guns. "Busy day at work?"

"In man-ner of speaking." Orzel affirmed, setting the bag on the table and her satchel on the floor. Though she seemed find, it almost sounded as if she was actually struggling to talk. "Great many tesssts, wanted to run personally. May have... Over indulged curiosssity." In addition to the eyes and her occasional 'hissing', Orzel seemed... Different. Not nearly as rigid, with a barely detectable spring in her step. This was, perhaps, the closest Spike had ever seen her to being happy, in fact... She seemed downright 'bubbly'. "Again, much apologize for the making you wait. How has day been?" She added more seriously as Spike pulled out a seat for her, which she readily accepted before being pushed in, just as she always did.

"A little boring..." Spike admitted, seating himself as the Princess began taking food from the bag... There was lots of it, as was typically the case with their lunches, seeing as there were two ravenously hungry dragons to feed. That being said, Spike was frankly skeptical that so much food could come out of the same bag naturally. In total, the feast would include fifty cheeseburgers, thirty large orders of Prench fries, six buckets of fried chicken, a pound and a half of mashed potatoes, and twenty large sodas. Every part of the feast, with the exception of the sodas, was piping hot... As if it'd just finished being cooked that second. "Is this one of your projects?" The young man gestured at the bag, to which Orzel offered one of her stoic smiles.

"You know Enchantressss can not reveal her secrets..." She stated cryptically before tugging down the portion of her headscarf covering the lower part of her face. She took a tentative sip of her drink, a few moments later her eyes went wide, but again she made no mention as to why. "Is a test piece I working on. Want to be seeing if my SSSokolite compound could... Could..." She trailed off, abruptly sighing and swapping over to draconic.

"I wanted to see if it could effectively bind to paper, and I also wanted to test an enchantment I developed based on our O&O campaign..." Her pronunciation of her Draconic had drastically increased, and her voice sounded... Smoother, even taking on a delightfully scintillating dual tonal quality. "It is also part of a work thing, I suppose. I have dubbed it the 'Lunchbag of Holding'."

Spike was hardly surprised to watch the Princess abruptly wolf down an entire cheeseburger in under eight seconds, though somehow she still managed to retain a scrap of the grace expected of a future sovereign. What did surprise him was the emergence of a forked tongue that darted briefly out from between the Princess's lips, then retreated with equally swift motion. Spike handled it with about as much aplomb as he could, though he was certain that the ever observant Orzel had spotted the brief surprise in his eyes.

"It is yet another facet of being a dragon I was not prepared for." Orzel continued in draconic, gesturing to her eyes, then sticking out her tongue a good six inches or so. Retracting the appendage, the girl shrugged ever so faintly. "While speaking Equestrian is more difficult, I have found speaking Draconic, or even my native Szafirian has become... Easier."

That was certainly becoming evident with every word she spoke, as the sharpness of her consonants and the overall flow of her words seemed far more natural... It only made sense that the language of dragons would be influenced by a level of tongue dexterity that wasn't present in other races. Though her general tone remained subdued and monotonous, it was much easier for Spike to discern her general emotion merely by the lyrical quality of her voice. She didn't seem altogether displeased talking about the change, but she obviously wasn't enthused by it either.

"Can you say something specific for me in Draconic, like a tongue twister?" Spike asked cautiously in Equestrian, Orzel merely nodded. "Lesser leather never lettered... Lesser letter never..." Spike stopped as Orzel emitted one of her strange coughing giggles, which certainly took some of the sting out of it. Taking a deep breath, the young man tried again, this time far slower. "Lesser leather... Never weathered... Wetter weather better."

"Lesser leather never weathered wetter weather better." Orzel repeated in Draconic without so much as missing a syllable, obviously aided by the recent change. "Can you can a can as a canner can can a can? How can a clam cram in a clean cream can? If a dog chews shoes, whose shoes does he choose?" Spike was surprised to see Orzel actually smile, a real smile, fleeting as it might've been. "I was worried the change would make it difficult for me, but with practice I should be able to more easily adapt back to Equestrian." She admitted softly, her eyes turning back to the table. "I do not feel as restrained as I once did... At least, when I am speaking with you..."

Spike once again spotted the faint flushing of her cheeks. He was certain of it now, he wasn't just seeing things... She might very well feel the same way about him as he felt about her. For a few moments the young man thought he might gather the courage to speak his mind, to get it out in the open then and there, before it was too late... Just as with his earlier attempts to say those charming phrases, Spike found his tongue thoroughly tied. He couldn't spit it out, not here, not without any sort of warning...

"So, tongue twisters aside, anything in particular you want to talk about today, my Lady?" He inquired, continuing in draconic for the Princess's benefit. He couldn't keep from grinning inwardly, as once again the Princess's cheeks flushed... He didn't know why he carried on addressing Orzel as such, as it obviously got her flustered, but... She was cute when she was flustered. Maybe he hoped it might inspire her to say something instead, thus saving him the anxiety of working out how to do it on his own. "How about I go?" The Princess merely nodded, as she was once again in the process of eating. "So, I talked to Twilight about possibly-" The girl abruptly started giggling, in her strange, reserved, cough-like way. Spike was fast starting to realize that despite the oddness, that sound becoming one of his favorite things to hear. "What?" Orzel wiped at her lips with a napkin, then took another sip of her drink.

"Your mustache..." Stated Orzel, gesturing at her own upper lip. "It is like... What is the word? Larval stage of a butterfly..." She trailed off, then snapped her fingers. "Caterpillar! Yes, it is like a great big caterpillar, that wiggles when you talk. I find it quite silly." Spike absently rubbed at the mustache for himself, then looked at his reflection in the mirror... The Princess certainly had a point, now that he looked at it. "I greatly preferred the full beard, I thought it made you look... Very rugged. Very distinguished." She admitted, once again averting her eyes to the table. "It is your face, of course, do with it as you please... I am not trying to tell you to change." The Princess quickly added, a bit more seriously than before.

"I know..." Spike responded, chuckling faintly to himself. He truly did understand, both that Orzel wasn't telling him to change, and why she'd gone out of her way to say as much. "I kinda liked the beard myself, not gonna lie... I just wanted to be fashionable, I guess." The young man shrugged, then abruptly brought his palm to his forehead. "I totally forgot about why I kept the mustache to begin with!" He groaned, then took a sip of his drink. "I want to sign up for the new Fire Department they're setting up in Ponyville. Mom hasn't outright said 'No' yet, so I'm hopeful." Orzel leaned forward on the table, idly taking a few more bites of a second burger.

"I think you would make a fine addition..." The Princess agreed sagely. "I actually am planning on selling the firetrucks at Maksym Field to that very department, so you can take comfort in knowing I have repaired them personally." Spike actually did take comfort in that, if there was anyone he'd trust to get something mechanical up and running, it was Orzel. She leaned back in her seat, taking on a slightly more serious posture. "If you do take the position, I would like very much for you to keep me updated in our letters as to how the department is developing. If issues arise with funding or other red tape that hampers its progress, do not hesitate to inform me."

This was a side of Orzel that Spike had only seen rarely... The 'Princess' part of Princess Orzel. She could go from bubbly and cloy to stern and serious at the drop of a hat, especially if she perceived that someone in the government wasn't doing their job. For Spike, it was both a blessing and a curse... A blessing in that the Princess had a habit of getting whatever needed doing done as quickly as possible, a curse in that it often times required her to put herself in a far colder mindset. She did so because she cared, but in the moment she could come off as... Aloof, or even downright mean, depending on the severity of the infraction.

"You'll be the first to know, I promise." Spike agreed honestly, and with his solemn assurance, Orzel was back to her usual neurotic but otherwise conversational self.

Spike once again noticed the Princess was, even in the process of eating, taking care to organize her immediate surroundings in that typical obsessive way of hers. Occasionally she would get that far away look in her eyes, just staring off into space... It wasn't nearly as often now as had been the case in previous visits. Most telling was her idly organizing each handful of fries according to size, from longest to shortest, before eating them. She did so with such speed that it would've been difficult to notice, had Spike not trained himself to spot it... It, just as much as the Princess's overall demeanor, helped to give him an idea of where she was at, mentally speaking.

While by no means fully relaxed, not that he'd ever actually seen her fully relaxed, she nonetheless seemed more placid than usual. Odds were it was a mix of finally getting to eat lunch and whatever scientific tests she'd run prior to her arrival, but... Spike liked to think at least some of it had to do with him. Of course she'd told him that he didn't need to change his appearance for her, and he believed that to be true, but... Spike wanted to anyway. So he'd probably grind off the remaining mustache and grow everything back in evenly, as the young man figured to do so unevenly would drive the Princess crazy... Even if she wasn't actually going to be stopping by for much longer.

That drew his thoughts to the upcoming Hearth's Warming Eve Ball, to which he and Twilight had already received their invitations... They'd even been asked to perform a play, which Spike had been given the honor of narrating. He didn't know if Orzel would attend the pageant, apparently she wanted to attend one final prayer service prior to her departure, and Spike couldn't really fault her for that... Even if he didn't really get the point of any of it. What concerned the young man more was that he wasn't sure what he should get the Princess for Hearth's Warming Eve...

Again, she insisted that she didn't need anything, and again... Spike didn't care, he wanted to get her something. He didn't know what exactly, but he supposed it wouldn't be all that different from buying a gift for his Mom... Perhaps a new slide rule, maybe a T-square? Odds were the Princess would appreciate it no matter what Spike got, and maybe that'd even give him the chance to get a few things off his chest... Either way, Spike would just be happy to see her one last time before she left. Whatever the cause for her departure, even if it had rattled her, it couldn't be much worse than Nightmare Moon or Discord... Right?

Piercing sighed quietly as once more he strolled through the well manicured halls of the Nocturne Agency's headquarters, eyes cast upon the floor, brow furrowed in deep thought. He'd only just teleported back to Canterlot a few minutes ago, as Orzel had bid him to make contact with several engineering firms and to bring her proposal for field trials to Orcus. In all honesty, however, Piercing's focus was far from those immediate requests. Exhaling a small puff of cigar smoke, the man briefly looked sideways, glancing at a man standing beside a water cooler, chatting with an absolutely stunning receptionist... Piercing shook his head, not only was that wildly inappropriate, he was also happily involved with Luna.

What stuck out wasn't the receptionist, however... No, it was the man himself. He was a rotund fellow, dressed in the virtually ubiquitous cheap, off-the-rack, government issue, black suit and tie. His face, though, was vaguely familiar... For a few moments Piercing struggled to place him, then he recalled Nightmare Night... He'd seen that same man, dressed as a janitor, mopping the floors in the Castle's main entrance hall. To Piercing's amazement, the man now wore an 'Agent' badge... He could only wonder just how many other members of the Castle staff were Nocturne Agents in disguise.

"There are some right peculiar blokes working here..." He mumbled to himself, averting his eyes back to the floor. Taking a small puff on his cigar, the Sub-Director of the entire Nocturne Agency pondered the nature of his upcoming conversation with Director Orcus... Nearly a month had gone by since the Facility 127 Raid with very little to show for it, other than half a dozen dead Cerberus Troopers, a couple wounded prisoners, and, most startlingly, a handful of Changeling corpses.

Two had been recovered at the gate, the third from within the compound itself, near the warehouse that'd been raided, and a fourth that'd been found face down on the snowy banks of a river some twenty miles east of the facility. The dead found at the facility were easily attributable to gunfire from the defenders, but the latter most corpse had faced a far more deliberate fate. He'd been knelt down at the edge of the river, then shot point blank in the head, though not before first having its palm slashed open.

This, coupled with statements taken from the prisoners, seemed to support the theory that the man responsible for running the raid hadn't known there were Changelings in his midst. The prisoners themselves cast doubt on an early theory that this was an operation by Griffon special forces, though they didn't solidly disprove the idea either. The men responsible weren't amateurs, and they weren't run of the mill common criminals either.

They'd known about the proper handling artifacts, and performed enough intelligence gathering to know more or less exactly what it was they were stealing. Coupling that with the fact they were using Griffon Equipment, and that they could speak both Griffish and Ornithian with varying degrees of fluency? It didn't take long for a pattern emerged... They might not have been Griffon special forces, but they were just about the closest thing to it.

Ornithia had exceptionally strong military ties with the Griffon Empire, regularly trading food, petroleum, and other rare resources for surplus equipment and military advisers. As such, it boasted one of the most advanced and well equipped militaries on the continent of Amazonas... That made it just about the closest thing Equestria had to an equal in this hemisphere, at least from a military standpoint. Like Equestria, Ornithia's government also possessed its own paranormal intelligence agency, Division Five...

Division Five was to the Nocturne Agency as a Mall Cop was to a Lunar Marine, with only a fraction of the budget, experience, and commitment as the latter. They regularly sold off the artifacts they recovered on the black market, and it was all but common knowledge that the Nocturne Agency had more Ornithian artifacts in its custody at any given moment than Division Five ever had in all its combined years of operation. So far Ornithia was denying any part Division Five might've had in the attack on Facility One-Two-Seven, but of course they would do that... They weren't necessarily being forthcoming with information about who might be behind it either.

So that begged the question, the matter that so thoroughly dominated Piercing's thoughts. Had the raid been an operation sanctioned by the Ornithian Military Junta, or had Division Five gone rogue? Neither was a comforting scenario in its own right, but things were made all the more complicated due to the clandestine nature of both Division Five and the Nocturne Agency. If it was an Ornithian attack, then that meant war, but... Not a public war.

To declare war publicly would require the divulgence of just what it was that was stored at Facility One-Two-Seven, and that'd defeat the whole point of keeping it a secret. Instead they'd need to wage a war by proxy, funding dissident groups in Ornithia, supplying them with arms and monetary support, eventually toppling the Military Junta from power with the hope that the new regime wouldn't be worse than the old. It was a dirty, deceptive, under handed crapshoot... But it beat mass panic as a result of certain secrets that were better left unsaid.

If the raid was the result of Division Five going rogue, or at the very least a portion of it, the matter could be handled with more... Latitude. Ornithia would have to disavow those responsible, and that'd give the Nocturne Agency the freedom to track them down and sanction them as necessary. Either outcome would require a great deal of intelligence gathering and investigation to determine, but for the moment...? There were larger things to worry about.

The greater concern, even more so than who was responsible for the raid, was just what had been taken. The items stolen from Facility One-Two-Seven were by and large low level artifacts, which could easily be recreated using the advances of modern magic or technology. In all honesty, they might've been perfectly fine being stored in a regular museum, if not for other factors. All the stolen artifacts bore considerable value on the black market, both for their providence, their rarity, and their antiquity. The people that would buy them weren't the sort that wanted to take over the whole world, just perhaps carefully selected parts of it.

There were, of course, one or two artifacts that stuck out as remarkably dangerous to the world at large. These were what every field agent the Agency had was currently looking for, though with little success. The first was an enchanted necklace known as the 'Alicorn Amulet', a powerful construct that, as the name might suggest, granted its wearer the powers and abilities of an alicorn... In the process of doing so it also drove the user, to use a modern Equestrian colloquialism, 'Nucking Futs'. Piercing could say from personal experience that combining a totally insane personality with enough arcane power to flatten a mountain range was decidedly not good.

Thankfully reports suggested that the Alicorn Amulet had yet to leave Equestria's shores, and the search for it was going far better than the other major concern. Speaking of which, the second foreboding pilferage was a crate containing numerous books. In the shadowy world of black magic and the occult, books could be more dangerous than all the bombs in the world, and words could certainly hurt someone. This crate in particular included the ancient grimoires and spell books of countless rogue wizards, some more dangerous than others. The true menace among their number arose from the only complete collection of works written of that mad Abyssinian shaman, Felis Catus...

There were things that man was not meant to know, truths too sinister and foul for mortal minds to comprehend, secrets that the Ancients had done everything in their power to conceal. Felis Catus had scoffed at the warnings, and with manic determination sought out those wretched truths, in doing so driving himself thoroughly into madness. His rantings and ravings had been compiled by loyal followers into a wretched amalgamation, crafted from tanned human flesh, written in ink taken from the very abyss itself, all culminating in the artifact known as 'The Tome of Obscurum Scientia'.

Every foul page, from cover to accursed cover, had been infused with the magic of wizards sacrificed in brutal and bloody rituals older, written in tongues older and more terrible than anything a sensible human mind might dare to conjure. Contained within that abominable tome was the sum of all the foulest arcane knowledge imaginable, twisted and perverted to the forces of darkness. Only one man had ever braved its pages and survived with his sanity intact... To even gaze upon its cover, or handle it with bare hands, was to invite the foulest of fates to befall one's truly unfortunate soul.

Orcus had been that 'one man', and even now he refused to full reveal that which he'd discovered, only faintly alluding to a bizarre world 'beyond the veil' where evil reigned eternal... That very same evil at one time had menaced Equus many thousands of years ago, and ever since its final expulsion by the Ancients and the Kwarczkie allies, there had never been any shortage of mad fools, determined to unleash that plague once more upon the globe.

The book never should've been stored with so many other low level artifacts, it would've been much safer in a dedicated bunker, buried thousands of feet underground, encased in concrete and surrounded by thirty metric tons of radioactive waste. Steps could've been taken to ensure that any that dared attempt to get near the book would never live long enough to ever gaze upon its pages, but... To create such a facility was to invite challenge, as the forces of the Occult would soon deduce what was hidden there and make regular attempts to steal it.

It was thought that keeping the Tome of Obscurum Scientia among low level artifacts in a boring and otherwise unassuming facility was the better solution. The cults of the world would look high and low for a specialized secret bunker, they'd never think to look in the supply depot a few miles down the road. Obviously, the Agency had made the wrong choice, and now a very deadly artifact was out and unaccounted for... That Changelings were involved only made matters on that front worse. To say Luna was upset would be an understatement... By Faust, Piercing had never known a person could turn such an unhealthy shade of scarlet. Her fury was such that the man actually feared the woman might literally, literally, go through the roof!

Piercing took a longer puff on his cigar as he came to a stop outside Orcus' office door. There was nothing he could do to bring Luna down off the ledge, short of actually finding and recovering the Tome of Obscurum Scientia. This was, needless to say, easier said than done. Exhaling a dense cloud of thick smoke, the Sub-Director wordlessly shuffled inside the office of his boss and long time friend... The mood, however, was far from friendly. The Director was seated behind his polished wooden desk, eyes set in a manilla folder, with his omnipresent smoldering cigarette perched between his lips. Upon spotting Piercing, the man glanced at his wristwatch.

"You're late..." Observed Orcus, Piercing took out his own pocket watch and opened it. The numbers were a tad blurrier than they'd been when he first got it, and he suspected a trip to the eye doctor was once again in his future. Still, the watch showed he was actually two minutes ahead of schedule. More importantly, it contained a photograph of Luna in the cover, and seeing her smiling face... Well, it was enough to drive the dread away, for a few moments at least.

"Not by my watch, I'm not." Countered the Sub-Director, closing the watch and tucking it back into his pocket. Orcus merely huffed in apparent frustration, Piercing knew his old comrade didn't really care about his punctuality, he just... Needed something to complain about sometimes. Given all that was going on, the ancient scholar didn't blame him. "Orzel's gone off to have lunch with that boy Spike, a little later than usual. She's had a new physical development with her transformation..." Orcus merely hummed... Right, that was something Luna would be more interested.

"You'll be happy to know the she's solved the seizing issue, and we completed a total of twenty-one Sustainability of Fire tests with only five stoppages." Piercing continued a little more hopefully. The Director's eyebrow quirked upwards, then he hummed again, acknowledging the figure. "We should be ready to begin limited production within a couple weeks. Most of the tooling is set up, we're just waiting on manpower..." Piercing trailed off. "She's also made a proposal regarding desert field tests." Orcus raised his eyebrow again, this time pausing to close the file and set it on his desk.

"What did she have in mind?" Asked the Director, his brow thoroughly furrowed in thought... It was clear to Piercing he was only paying half attention, so the man quietly took a seat across from his friend, briefly glancing at the file on the desk.

"Bear in mind I'm just the messenger here. She's recommending that we send a few hundred units to the militias in Lone Star." Piercing explained, watching the Director closely to gauge his reaction. Orcus' brow unfurrowed, his attention now fully on the proposal itself. "She thinks doing so could build some brand recognition for BDT, and might make it easier to get wider acceptance from the DAC. It'd also give us valuable insight into how the weapon will function under battlefield conditions." Orcus took a long drag on his cigarette, then exhaled the smoke through his nose.

"Because of the raiding season?" Orcus asked bluntly, Piercing nodded. "From the prototype's I've seen, the design is not a highly sophisticated one... Anyone could make them..." The man trailed off, looking at his desk. "If the dragons capture one, how long do you think it would be before we started seeing copies used against us? Then again, that'd be the same with any weapon they picked up." The Director bit his lower lip. "At the same time, she's right... BDT is an unknown entity, and the DAC hate's spending money on unknown entities. Our people at the border could certainly use all the help they can get." The man sighed. "Having a civilian version in production could also make it easier for us to stash a few away for the Agency's less than above board operations... So... Yes, go ahead and start sending them to the militias." Orcus put his cigarette out in the nearby ashtray, then immediately lit a new one. "How else is the Princess faring?"

"As I said, she's undergone a recent change in transformation. Fully developed reptilian eyes, long forked tongue... She's taking it rather well, I think her new role as a gunsmith is improving her confidence better than expected." Piercing explained evenly, drumming his fingers against the armrest of the chair. "I dare say she almost seemed... Happy. Were we not required to move her, I suspect we'd be well on our way towards a design for that new rifle she keeps talking about." Piercing paused, earning another silent nod from the Director. "Speaking on the topic of why we're moving her in the first place..." The man looked at the folder on the desk.

"We ran a genetic comparison between the Exo-Changelings and the Changelings we recovered following the raid..." Orcus casually slid the file across his desk, allowing Piercing to grab it for himself. "As if they weren't already, things just got complicated." Piercing opened the folder and examined the documents within, and upon doing so Orcus' assertion bordered on understatement. As expected, the Exo-Changelings and their Equus native counterparts shared similar basic genetic markers, but it was how they differed that tossed a spanner into the works.

"So it's more than one hive we have to worry about." Piercing deduced, snapping the folder closed. "My guess is that each hive is independent of the others, given their insectoid behavior..." Orcus nodded in agreement. The issue now wasn't just the fact that they needed to be on the look out for Changelings, but that each individual hive likely had its own plans for interfering with Equestria, which would complicate efforts to counter every possible angle. "Have you informed S-COM yet?"

"No, I wanted to give the pathologist time to verify her results." Orcus took a slow inhale on his cigarette, an act Piercing mimicked with his own cigar. "In the meantime, we need to begin working on strategies to handle the Changelings, within our own borders and, potentially, abroad." His eyes briefly flitted around the room, as if searching for something, but... They quickly returned to his desk. "I'm worried, Observos, and I don't worry easily..." The man stated solemnly. "The big picture is becoming too vague, the stakes too high, the fate of the world rests on too many variables... It used to feel like we were playing poker, there was some strategy, some means of affecting the outcome, but now...?"

"Now we're rolling dice." Piercing concluded for him, the Director merely nodded, taking another drag on his cigarette. "Look where we are, Orcus." The man gestured about the room with his cigar. "I realize you got here the hard way, but... I just got back, and what I see is... Well, the world's a lot better now than it was, maybe even better than you think it is." He took another puff on his cigar. "Fortune has been kind to us, and I have faith that she'll continue to show favor to Equestria... Long enough, at least, for us to come up with a plan. The world would've ended a long time ago were that not the case." Orcus smiled sadly.

"Do you honestly believe that?" He asked, Piercing returned the man's sad smile with one of his own.

"It doesn't matter what I believe." The man countered as he reclined in his seat. "I could believe the world is flat, that wouldn't make it so. All that matters is the cold and incorruptible evidence. Seeing as the world is a thriving and lively place, rather than a decrepit lifeless dust-ball, I'd say the evidence clearly suggests our successes far outweigh our failures." Piercing watched several strands of wispy smoke wafting upwards towards the ceiling. "One day, and that day could come sooner than later, the whole bloody thing might very blow up in our faces, but as of now it hasn't... Not yet." Piercing grinned quietly. "When or if it does come, when the chips are down and we're in our darkest hour, we'll be ready." Orcus sighed smoke through his nose, his eyes once more focusing on his desk.

"I hope to the Gods you're right." The Director mumbled. "Because I don't know what in Tartarus we'll do if you're wrong."

Chapter 19

Canterlot once more found itself in the grips of a snowstorm, though not nearly as obstructive a blizzard as had been the case at the outset of winter. Pristine white flakes fluttered silently through the night air, filtering gently through the streets that were, for the first time in a long while, quite tranquil. Few cars scooted about the city at present, the hour was growing late, and most of its inhabitants were already where they wanted to be.

This passive state of affairs wasn't limited to Canterlot alone, indeed it seemed that a spirit of peace and good will had descended all across the world. For the time being, all the ills and struggles had been put to rest, as nations the world over embraced each other in the name of friendship... For most families in Equestria's illustrious capital, that illusion might have even appeared to be real... Unfortunately, that wasn't the case for the Royal Family, at least... Not to such an extent. It was true that most of the troublemakers in the world opted to take the holiday off, even countries that didn't celebrate it officially, but there was always at least one issue to spoil things.

For Princess Orzel, who was currently in the process of singing along with closing hymnal of the Hearth's Warming Mass, that one spoiling issue was her impending departure. According to a cursory examination of the facilities there, Amberjack Island didn't even have a model store, not that she'd ever find time to make models with her busy research schedule. To that end it did have a sizable scrapyard, which was bound to be filled with all sorts of goodies that'd been tossed aside by the military base there.

Possibilities for inventions aside, the prospect of leaving behind everything and everyone she'd come to know and love had, needless to say, rendered it difficult for her to enjoy the service... Much as she would've loved to be spending a few more minutes with said family, Orzel also understood this was likely going to be the last mass she'd be able to attend for a long while, and she'd be damned if she missed it... Figuratively speaking, of course.

There was another reason she'd wanted to attend, beyond the journey she'd embark upon come morning. Between the looming shadow of the unknown threat, and the stress of designing weapons to counter that threat, Orzel was in desperate need of something... Bigger. The girl had been holding together quite well lately, and both she and Doctor Scratch were hopeful that trend wasn't contingent on her being in Canterlot. For as successful as some of her recent endeavors had been, Orzel understood it would take all of her strength to accomplish the tasks set upon her by Mother. So, in addition to enjoying the company of her fellow practitioners, the girl had also come to pray for that strength.

Thankfully, between the warm atmosphere and the low hanging fog of various smoldering aromatics, Orzel managed to achieve a decent level of meditation. The sense of calm it'd restored was enough to salvage the service, and she certainly felt stronger... Of all the things Orzel was going to miss about Canterlot, her twice weekly visits to the temple would be quite close to the top of her list, just below her family, friends, and the local model store.

So it was that preemptive nostalgia in mind that Orzel sang the closing hymnal, carrying on with as much reverence and conviction as she ever, standing from her favored seat in the very front pew. Her attachment to the seat was due in part to the fact that she enjoyed being as close to the altar as possible, but mostly because sitting in any of the rearward pews rendered it virtually impossible for her to see the altar, or the Seeker. The worshipers of Lexicos were an atypically lofty crowd, with the average height being somewhere around five-foot-eleven, while Orzel still topped out at four-foot-nine... Though she could get that up to four-foot-nine-and-a-half, if she wore combat boots. She wasn't at present, however, so the matter was a moot point.

Tonight the temple was almost packed to capacity, and Orzel's voice had become but one of over a hundred. She actually preferred it that way, especially given recent developments. While she knew all of the words to the hymn, she still wasn't all that confident in her singing voice. While she could better speak, or sing, draconic, the effect of the lengthening of her now serpentine tongue had on her Equestrian was... Far less positive.

She was back to the point where her words were so indecipherable that she was embarrassed to speak anything but draconic or Szafirian. Fortunately she had little reason to fear making a fool of herself at present, as here in the temple draconic was the default language of every service. For that, Orzel thanked Lexicos profusely. The combination of so many voices, singing joyfully and triumphantly, coupled with the expertly played organ, had to be the most heavenly sound Orzel had ever heard.

She'd thought about it hundreds of times by now, but there was still something about the mentality of the people here... Something that made Orzel all the happier to count herself a member of the Lexican Orthodoxy, or... At least a prospective member. She'd yet to officially convert. In all her years of attending services at the Vindictan Temple, often filled with almost a thousand people, she'd never experienced a more earnest and harmonious entreaty to the divine... The hymn amounted to a simple, poignant, request... Peace on Equus, good will towards man.

Typically services lasted anywhere from three to five hours, but as it was Hearth's Warming and there were plenty of people that wanted to be home with their loved ones, Seeker Topaz had constrained that evening's worship to a measly hour. Despite the truncated meditation period, it'd been a particularly invigorating sermon on the virtues of justice and courage in the face of adversity.

Orzel particularly liked the Seeker's manner of conveying the story of Lexicos' confrontation with a roving band of barbarians, which had been terrorizing a small farming village. Lexicos had taught the farmers to defend themselves with strategy and intellect, rather than the ham-fisted brute force of the barbarians. Using the benefits of her knowledge to even the field, the farmers ultimately emerged victorious, handing the barbarians a crushing defeat.

While an invigorating gospel in its own right, the content in and of itself had helped to settle a few concerns Orzel had been harboring, considering the fact that she'd recently become, for all intents and purposes, a merchant of war. That fact was quite present in her mind as she sang the words, as there was very little 'peace and good will' to be found coming out of the barrel of one of her Rivet Guns.

Orzel nonetheless understood that while her weapons would certainly cause great harm, they would also do a lot of good... It was not a perversion of knowledge to create a better means of defending one's self. The barbarians had swords, bows, and spears, essentially the most advanced weapons of Lexicos' era. The farmers, by comparison, were forced to adapt their plowshares, pitchforks, and other tools into weapons... What separated them was how those two opposing groups used the technologies at their disposal... Knowledge had no morality, one way or another, it simply existed. Those that used the fruits of that knowledge, for good or ill, were the ones that bore responsibility.

While Orzel was ostensibly building the PM-72 for the military, she also fully intended to sell it to as many of her subjects as possible. Not because she made four Bits for every unit sold, but because the Raiding Season was fast approaching. With the coming of winter also came a renewed period of aggression from the smaller clans of the Southern Dragonlands. Only the northernmost portions were actually comprised of desert.

The more southerly territory, were most Southern Dragons lived, could expect a particularly harsh winter, and thus an increased scarcity in resources. That would breed hunger, hunger would breed discontent, and the almost universal response of the smaller dragon clans to being discontent was to simply 'get more stuff'. They couldn't take on the larger dragon clans, those officially recognized by Equestria, and fighting amongst themselves wouldn't solve the problem either, so... That left Equestria, which for the past thousand years had allowed the raiding to continue, rather than risk an all out war with the entirety of the Dragonlands by marching across the border and pacifying the smaller clans once and for all.

It was a policy that made Orzel's blood boil, but she understood the logic... Equestria could certainly take on and defeat the Dragonlands if pushed to do so, but it would be costly, and the country couldn't very well uphold its obligations to other nations that relied on Equestria for protection at the same time. Sorting out that gross policy oversight once and for all was at the top of the list of things Orzel planned to do when she finally took the throne, but for now... She could only provide material aid. So her intent was to get as many PM-72s into the hands of as many ranchers, farmers, and other militiamen as she possibly could... People very much like the farmers in the Seeker's sermon, against other people very much like the barbarians.

She hoped to do so before the first raiders attached Equestria's southern border, but doing so would be far easier said than done. The Princess was becoming quite good at her new job, especially as far as getting the factory at Maksym Field ready to begin production of the PM-72... A lot of the equipment was already on site, the real challenge was producing a significant number of dyes, which would be used to stamp most of the weapon's components. There were enough already from the prototyping phase, enough to produce perhaps ten of fifteen units per day, not nearly enough to supply the PM-72 in any significant numbers.

Piercing estimated they'd be able to begin full scale operations in a matter of weeks when more dyes arrived from a factory on the east coast, not that Orzel would be present to oversee any of it... Then, assuming they managed to hire enough workers and nothing else went wrong, the factory at Maksym field might very well be capable of producing somewhere closer to one-hundred units a day. Again, not ideal, but better than nothing...

The music came to its inevitable conclusion after several minutes, quickly drawing Orzel's thoughts away from the subject of her work, back into the present. Normally it would've been rare for her thoughts to wander during services, but with the length of meditation having been so greatly reduced, her focus wasn't nearly what it typically was. All that mattered now, she supposed, was that she stop letting her mind wander and pay attention... Seeker Topaz made his way to the front of the altar with an air of adjuration, his great pendulous beard swaying slightly with every step, just as it had with every service Orzel attended. He turned and bowed his head to the statue of Lexicos, then held his arms aloft and to the side.

"Lady Lexicos, your children thank you for the gift of knowledge, we beg your guidance in our lives, that we might one day better comprehend the infinite mystery of our universe..." Topaz entreated with reverent supplication, a statement the entire congregation repeated. After a few more moments of silent prayer, the Seeker turned to face the congregation, the tails of his klobuk fluttering slightly from atop his head. "Our mass has ended..." He brought his palms together. "With all the light and love of Lexicos in your hearts, may you depart now in peace."

The organ once again began playing, this time a slow but upbeat hymn, which sounded in the background as the congregation rapidly filed out of the temple... Well, all save for Orzel, as she wanted to personally say goodbye to the Seeker. Wordlessly she sat in the front pew, idly adjusting the hood of her crimson prayer robes, then quietly bowing her head in silent prayer... As with every time she prayed, Orzel's first prayers were for the souls of her Mother and Father, and all those lost in Cesarski. Afterwards she prayed for the continued safety and health of those that meant so much to her, her adoptive family and friends...

She said an extra prayer for Spike, whom had recently phoned her to inform her that his Mother would allow him to join Auxiliary Fire Department of Ponyville. He wouldn't begin training for a week or so, but it was never to early to ask the Goddess to keep an eye on him. Orzel wasn't quite sure how she felt about Spike fighting fires, even though she agreed with his decision... While his desire to do so hadn't shocked the Princess by any stretch of the word, she nonetheless couldn't help feeling some level of unease...

Talking about signing up was one thing, but actually doing it? Actually putting his life on the line? Now it was more than theory, it was... Real. Even though on paper the risk of injury wasn't nearly as high for dragons, if there was one thing the development of the PM-72 had taught her, it was that what was on paper seldom lined up with what happened in real life... Thus, it was impossible for Orzel not to worry. That worry was tempered only by the knowledge that Spike wanted to put his life at risk for the benefit of others...

Orzel lo-... Orzel really cared about Spike, and the thought of something happening to him, even a slight injury, was too unbearable to even mention aloud. What was just as difficult for her to talk about, if not more so, was another facet of her relationship with the aspiring fire fighter. She'd been thinking about him quite a lot lately, and not just in the sense that she worried for his safety. She could always count on him to make her smile, at least on the inside, and at the same time... Whenever they talked about their fears, or their worries, or their dreams, or... Anything, really. He held nothing back... Well, almost nothing...

Orzel had a feeling there was something he wanted to tell her, she didn't dare contemplate what... She had something she wanted to tell him too, but... Then she'd look at herself in the mirror, she'd see the fangs, the horns, the eyes, the tongue, and the innumerable patches of scales... She was quite thankful for the coming of winter and her inherent inability to maintain her body heat, if only because it allowed her an excuse to wear longer sleeves and trousers. Orzel need only look past the cuff of her robes if ever she needed to remind herself why it was best she just keep her feelings to herself.

In a way, much as she hated the idea of leaving Canterlot, she was grateful for the chance to be away from prying eyes... Had she her druthers, she'd do away with every mirror in the Castle... Perhaps she could settle for all the mirrors in... Wherever she wound up. The Princess took a calming breath, inhaling deeply through her mouth and exhaling through her nose. She'd been feeling so good up to that point, and she wasn't about to allow her overactive emotions to send her spiraling... Not tonight.

Eventually, after what felt like a considerable amount of time had passed, Orzel felt the tell tale vibration of someone taking a seat beside her. Lifting her head and looking to her right, Orzel was unsurprised to see the bearded face of Seeker Topaz. His features seemed far softer in the dim candle light, with only the distinct presence of his fangs to clearly denote his draconic origins, as like Orzel he too concealed his horns. She didn't know how he hid his reptilian eyes, though she wasn't quite sure how she'd ask for such information either.

"Please, do not let me interrupt you." Topaz stated softly, smiling faintly. As with the service he was speaking draconic, though Orzel suspected he did so for her benefit, rather than his own. He was... What was the Equestrian idiom? A... Good egg? The Princess was thankful for his choice of language, regardless of whatever kind of egg he was. "You know the service is done now, yes...? You can go home?" Orzel nodded, folding her hands in her lap. "So I take it you are waiting to speak to me?" The girl nodded again. "Very well then... Speak." Orzel took a deep breath, then sighed through her nose.

"I wanted to tell you how thankful I am for all you have done to guide me towards Lexicos..." Orzel began, silently pondering just what, if anything, she could say to the man. The Seeker wasn't on the list of people authorized to know where she was going, but Mother had given her permission to at least say goodbye. "I am afraid, however, that this may be the last opportunity I have to tell you as much. I will be departing Equestria tomorrow, bound for parts I cannot divulge..." The Seeker hummed simply, stroking at his beard as he thought.

"Your observation is far more correct than perhaps you realize, Sister Orzel." Topaz agreed sagely. "This may be our last interaction, for a time at least... You are not the only one who will be departing on the morrow." He explained with a sad smile, taking Orzel slightly by surprise. "You will recall I am a visiting Seeker, yes? Well, my visit has concluded. I have been recalled to my monastery." The man explained gently, resting his hands on his knees and looking up at the murals painted on the ceiling above. "Never fear, as I doubt very much this will be our last meeting." He closed his eyes, a larger smile gracing his features. "Lexicos has large plans for both of us, and I am certain she will have our paths shall cross again one day." Orzel closed her eyes as well, though she preferred to bow her head forwards. "I sense there is more on your mind."

"There is, but... I cannot find the words to say exactly what." The Princess began, sighing heavily through her nose. "I have so many thoughts, so many things to worry about, especially now..." She took another deep breath, basking in the aromatic smoke that swirled throughout the temple. "I have committed to a field of study as per your suggestion, but that field of study is rooted in violence." The girl laced her fingers together in her lap. "There is part of me that feels some moral apprehension, but... What I am doing I do for the good of my subjects. Overwhelmingly, I feel my actions are righteous. I suppose that righteousness is what worries me most. How many atrocities were perpetrated by the people of my old motherland because those in charge felt righteous in their actions?" She asked rhetorically. "I do not want to become like them..."

"I cannot say for certain the type of people they were, I did not live there. That being said..." Topaz trailed off, Orzel lifted her head and looked over at the Seeker, who by now was sitting with his hands resting on his knees. "Do not become entangled in the concerns of being a righteous person, merely try to be the best person you can be. So long as you do that, the risk of you lapsing into the methods you fear will remain low." The man patted Orzel on the shoulder, then rose from the pew. "Now, come along, Sister Orzel. I am sure your escorts will be growing anxious at your delay." The Princess nodded, glancing at the door at the rear of the room, then standing to follow the Seeker. "It is likely for the best that I take my leave of you sooner rather than later. I get the distinct impression your government is growing... Concerned with my presence. " Orzel froze briefly, her stoic mask breaking as her brow furrowed with renewed concern.

"What has led you to think this, Seeker?" She asked with barely restrained worry, Topaz simply offered a dry chuckle. "Is it something I have said? Have I offended you in some way?" She didn't expect as much, but was nonetheless greatly relieved to see the Seeker shake his head.

"I have been visited, several times, by gentlemen concerned as to my true purpose in Equestria." Topaz explained amiably, as if he was recounting a story about a particularly interesting fish he'd caught. "I assured them that there was little to be concerned over, nonetheless the visits persist." The man shrugged as the two of them started walking towards the rear of the temple. "I believe they may have even had a look around my hotel room, not that there was much for them to find.

While the Seeker seemed perfectly fine with it all, Orzel was very, very quickly going from irked to furious. What idiot made the boneheaded decision to start sending Nocturne Agents to people's houses, just to check up on them? If there was one thing that had a direct line to the rage center of her brain, it was the government invading peoples' privacy and harassing them about 'what their business was'! Lexicos damn it, this was Equestria, not the blasted Szafirian Empire! Orzel's eye quickly commenced to twitching uncontrollably, and though she managed to maintain her composure, as of that moment the Princess was very likely the most livid person in all of Canterlot. Were she not currently in a holy place, she might very well have screamed an expletive or two...

"That is beyond the pale, Seeker. Why did you not tell me of this harassment sooner?" Orzel asked stiltedly, struggling to maintain her stoic composure, which grew all the more difficult when the Seeker actually began to chuckle. Blatant harassment and invasions of privacy by a state intelligence service were not a laughing matter, didn't he understand that?! As if sensing the building volcano that was about to erupt, the Seeker patted her on the back with one hand, as if to reassure her that she was making a mountain out of a mole hill. It didn't help.

"I did not feel harassed, Sister Orzel." He explained soothingly, clasping both hands behind his back. "It is entirely reasonable that your government would take an interest in me. After all, I have had regular access to you." That point did managed to defuse a great deal of the rising anger as, upon thinking about it... It actually did make a lot of sense. She was certain that everyone she had regular contact with also regularly received visits from the Nocturne Agency, or at the very least were under some form of surveillance. This was probably just the only time she'd ever heard about it... Of course, knowing that it wasn't just did little to quell the issue either. "Tonight is supposed to be one of joy and happiness, do not allow it to be clouded by what I consider to be a non-issue."

"It is hardly a non-issue, Seeker..." Orzel began, clasping her hands together as they continued walking. "However, if you insist, I suppose it will keep until tomorrow." She reluctantly conceded as they passed out of the temple proper and into the outer halls. Hoping to bring down her blood pressure, and by extension make the evening more enjoyable, the Princess opted to try and change the topic. "I still cannot believe this will be the last time I see you." She was surprised to hear the Seeker commence to chuckling again, this time a bit more jovially than before.

"As I have already said, I am certain that Lexicos shall bid our paths to cross again someday." Topaz repeated, pausing briefly to reach for the Monolith pendant that hung around his neck. Orzel eyed it for what had to be the thousandth time, wondering just how much it might've cost.

Such a necklace in the Empire would be unspeakably expensive, but... Gold and gemstones were unbelievably common here in Equestria, so for all Orzel knew, the seeker could've gotten it from a One-Bit store. She doubted that was actually the case however, merely from the look of the pendant. The beautifully polished rectangle of soapstone, set in a pendant gold, encrusted with rubies... It was a sizable piece, and the craftsmanship was evident merely by looking at it... As if reading Orzel's thoughts about the necklace, Topaz lifted it up and over his head, then offered it to her. The Princess stared at it with obvious uncertainty... Regardless of what it was worth materially speaking, she couldn't possibly think to accept such a generous gift.

"I received this pendant from the leader of my order when I was inducted into the monastery." Topaz stated solemnly, still holding out the necklace. "I have carried it with me for well over two centuries, and I do not part with it on a whim." He smiled faintly. "I have been selected to lead our order, that is the reason I have been called back to my monastery. Upon my return, I shall receive a new pendant fitting of my rank, and this will become superfluous." The man once again held it out for Orzel. Finally, the Princess hesitantly took the offered necklace, weighing the heavy gold chain in her hand.

"Normally there would be a drawn out ceremony for someone's induction into the Orthodoxy, but it is not a requirement." Topaz continued as Orzel examined the necklace. "Given our limited window of time, it is better we do so with haste. As you do not have a pendant of your own, I would like for you to have mine." They were now among the hallway filled with statuettes, drawing closer to the main entry hall.

"I suppose it is obvious, but duty requires me to ask anyway. Do you, Sister Orzel, wish to convert?" The Seeker asked with an air of officiousness. The two of them stopped, allowing Orzel once again to look at the necklace. After a few moments contemplation, which was really all she needed, the Princess nodded. "You do so honestly, and of your own volition, and not under coercion or other false pretense?" Orzel nodded again, so Topaz gestured for her to don the necklace.

"We wear the symbol of the Monolith not only to indicate our faith, but to keep Lexicos close to our hearts..." Topaz proclaimed, as if preaching to an entire room. Orzel donned the necklace accordingly, noting the surprising weight of the pendant and the chain itself. "In our darkest hours, when despair creeps in, it reminds us that the Light of Truth lives on inside all of us." The Seeker made several gestures with his hands, and Orzel once again felt compelled to bow her head.

"Sister Orzel, will you seek the truth and freely share that which you have learned with the rest of the world?" The seeker's voice was as serious as Orzel had ever heard it. "Will you stand for those who cannot stand for themselves? Will you stand for freedom of knowledge, and teach those who would seek to better themselves? Will you oppose the forces of darkness and censorship, those that would seek to maliciously obfuscate the truth, and deceive your fellow man for their own nefarious aims?"

"I will." Orzel nodded solemnly.

"Will you show compassion, kindness, acceptance and love to all, even your enemies?" Topaz asked in that same baritonous righteous voice of his. "Will you, Sister Orzel, renounce your supreme fealty to any other deity, and in matters of faith abide by Lexicos as your supreme deity? Will you, to the best of your abilities, hold to the holy tenants of the Orthodoxy of Lexicos?" Once again, Orze's response was a solemn 'I will.'. "With the powers granted to me by Lexicos, I accept you into the rolls of the Orthodoxy, the newest daughter of the Goddess of Knowledge. May she grant you peace, prosperity, and a long and happy life." The man rested his palm on Orzel's forehead for a good five seconds, then drew it away. "It is done. Welcome to the eternal search for knowledge, Sister Orzel."

"Thank you, Seeker." The Princess stated gratefully as she looked at the necklace, which was obviously meant for a much larger person. "May I...?" She asked hesitantly, the Seeker nodded as the they resumed their walk. "Alter yourself." She commanded forcefully in Szafirian, sending forth several streamers of magic. They coiled around the chain, shrinking it to better fit her smaller frame while the sizable pendant remained more or less the same. The two of them soon stopped beside the door, which was frigid to the touch. Orzel expected she'd find find two familiar patient, but slightly chilly, visages of Grim and Fable waiting for her outside. "I suppose this is farewell, for now..." Topaz nodded, briefly making a motion with his hands that Orzel recognized as a blessing gesture.

"I will pray for your safe travels, Sister Orzel. Go with Lexicos, and have a happy Hearth's Warming Eve." The man stated warmly, Orzel bowed her head respectfully towards the man, then opened the door and made her way out into the fluttering snow. Sure enough, she saw Grim and Fable standing ready, whilst an unmarked black sedan sat parked beside the curb at the edge of the Temple grounds.

With a mix of trepidation and relief, the girl followed her two gigantic bodyguards to the waiting vehicle. She'd incorporated a fair bit of time into her schedule for the visit to the temple, time enough that she wasn't too concerned about missing the pageant slated to be held at the Castle that evening. Sighing faintly as she entered the armored sedan, Orzel cast one final look at the temple, then took her seat. While she was quite familiar with the actual founding of Equestria, the prospect of seeing it in the form of a theatrical performance sounded like a splendid idea...

A chance to sit with Mother and Aunt Celestia, just enjoying one another's company for what would be the last time, was something Orzel wouldn't give up for the world. It definitely had nothing to do with the person they'd chosen to serve as narrator, or the fact that said person would be staying for the ball that followed the performance, that was for sure... Nope, nothing to do with it whatsoever... Just holly jolly music, good food, and a maybe, possibly, highly unlikely chance that Spike might ask her to dance.

She doubted any such request would arise though, a doubt that only grew with every moment Orzel saw her reflection in the window. The Princess needed to get her head together, to stop focusing so much on her physical appearance, but... That was difficult, especially when it was literally staring her in the face. Words like 'frumpy', 'brutish', 'animal', and 'defective' rattled around her head like gravel in a hubcap.

Orzel's face was little known to the public, there were few photographs of her, and almost all of them had been taken before her transformations began. Perhaps, going forward, she would be better off just... Wearing a mask. It might help her to cultivate mystique and intrigue, it would certainly help to reduce the insults she read in the papers. It infuriated her to no end that she still allowed them that level of hold over her, but... Perhaps there was some tiny part of her that thought they might be right. With all the changes she'd undergone since they first published their critiques of her appearance, Orzel wasn't so sure that particular portion of herself was as 'tiny' as she liked to pretend it was.

All of this was something she wished she could discuss with Spike, or with Doctor Scratch, or with... Anyone, really. She had mentioned it in her therapy sessions, but she was too ashamed of her own weakness to go into much detail. Thus, the true extent of the issue remained... Cloudy... She had to remind herself that tonight was supposed to be a happy occasion, so she needed to appear happy. Maybe, if she pretended long enough, she might even fool herself...

With cheerfully festive music and bustling joyful voices, it was becoming quite clear to Princess Celestia that the Hearth's Warming Eve Ball was so far a resounding success. Occasionally a booming belly laugh from among the crowd would join the tumult, generally from the delegation representing the Minotaur Republic. They made up perhaps a third of all the 'official ambassadors' in attendance. After all, the Hearth's Warming Eve Ball wasn't nearly as well advertised as the Grand Galloping Gala, and that was the point. The Gala had always been an affair for all the 'movers and shakers' of Equestria and beyond, the rich and powerful that wanted to rub elbows with Royalty, or for the matter of dealing with foreign affairs. Strictly off the record, of course.

The Hearth's Warming Eve Ball, conversely, was... Different. It was special, more personal, exclusive even, and that was entirely by design. The Princesses had far more control over the guest list than even the Grand Galloping Gala, and generally only invited people they liked... That always included the Castle Staff, who worked so diligently throughout the rest of the year. It all made for a smaller, more welcoming and family friendly affair. Celestia and her Sister had seen to the decorations themselves, and they would personally deal with cleaning the aftermath... It didn't seem proper, or fair, to host a party for the Cleaning Staff, only to then expect them clean up after it was done. Still, the two sisters had out done themselves this year, if Celestia said so herself.

The ballroom was decorated with garlands and strings of light, while a massive fir tree rose at the center-front of the chamber. It was likewise decorated wonderfully, with colorful glass balls and other ornaments. The tree was topped by a glittering crystalline star, which through various magical means scattered brilliant dots of multicolored light across the room. The base of the tree had, at the start of the night, been occupied by dozens of large presents, wrapped in vibrant red packaging.

Most of these had since been distributed to the party's guests, young and old... As with the decorations and the party itself, Celestia was more than happy to splurge, especially for the staff. The only presents that lingered at the bottom were those that Celestia had placed there for her close family and friends, and they'd be given out later that evening.

The air was heavy with the smell of eggnog, gingerbread, and pizza, of all things. There were more children in attendance tonight, as the families of Staff Members were also invited, so Celestia had wanted them to have something other than the possibly 'stuffy' meals otherwise brought by the caterer. As was always the case, Blueblood also personally invited the entire catering staff. Celestia had to wonder just why he did that, or why he always insisted on having the event catered by the same people every year, for as long as she could remember.

Celestia was honestly wondering a lot of things about him lately, because Blueblood was... Well... Less 'Blueblood-y', ever since the Grand Galloping Gala as a matter of fact. The only thing that prevented her from suspecting him to be an infiltrator was a recent blood test, administered under the guise of a blood drive for the Equestrian Red Diamond. His date for the evening, the Element of Generosity herself, had likewise passed the same test. Perhaps Rarity had something to do with his recent change of heart? If so, good for her.

The Princess suspected that now the gentle soul lurking beneath the callous politician was finally being given a chance to come into the light. Blueblood was already starting to restore his reputation among the Canterlot citizenry, if not the Nobility itself, running on a platform of tax cuts, school choice, and 'Journalistic Reform'... Which was the catch-all term being thrown around to refer to putting a stop to the wildly differing and often entirely false stories that were regularly splashed across headlines. How he'd accomplish such a goal without infringing on the constitution was still unclear, but... Celestia shook her head, now was no time for worrying about the nation's domestic politics, or the terrible danger that said nation didn't know it was potentially facing...

This years celebration had been kicked off by a pageant put on by Twilight Sparkle and her friends, carried out at Celestia's request. Partially because it seemed a decent change of pace, and also served as a sort of 'primer' for those in the audience who may not know exactly what Hearth's Warming Eve was about... Namely her niece Orzel and future Brother-In-Law. The former had been fairly well versed in the written history, but the play had acted as a sort of 'spark'.

Celestia had seen Orzel happy before, even delighted, but there was something about Hearth's Warming... Celestia had never seen Orzel so openly gleeful, even in spite of recent developments, but... The woman wasn't entirely sure her niece was as giddy as she appeared. Her frightfully adept skill at concealing her true emotions made it difficult for Celestia to tell if Orzel was truly in the holiday spirit, or if it was just a front... The woman certainly hoped it was the former, but experience told her it was very likely the latter, it was so hard to tell...

Orzel had returned from that evening's services only a few minutes before the pageant began, apparently having been delayed to accept a gift from the temple's Visiting Seeker. The man in question, Seeker Topaz, had been under a particular bit of scrutiny considering his association with certain groups in the Dragonlands that'd taken an interest in Orzel's origins. He consistently denied any ill motives for his presence in Equestria, and... Celestia believed him, at least in part. It wouldn't matter much longer, as Orzel was scheduled to depart the next day. Celestia shook her head at that... Hopefully the girl was managing to enjoy the evening, though the Woman nonetheless thought it prudent to have a talk with Luna before the night was through. Celestia could at least take solace in knowing her niece would be more comfortable on a tropical island than a freezing mountain top.

Piercing Gaze, on the other hand, had been more obviously struggling to get into the 'holiday spirit'. He'd been less than sanguine about a play venerating what he called 'a council of fools and traitors'. Technically speaking, the holiday was about Equestria's founding, and not its founders... Still, of all the people present, Celestia supposed that Piercing was perhaps the only one with a legitimate gripe with the Tribal Council. To him, unaware of the passage of so many centuries within his stone prison, that pain must've still been very fresh. Despite that, he still wore a festive red hat, though Celestia suspected it had more to do with Luna placing it there than anything else.

Currently, Piercing and Luna were dancing together to the sound of a rather upbeat swing song. All while Celestia was quietly moving through the party, diligently making her way to the dessert table. She'd already eaten dinner half an hour or so earlier, which meant she could finally partake in one of her favorite parts of the holiday... The treats. She'd done away with typical gown and crown for the evening's festivities, replacing them with a simple pair of slacks and a warm Hearth's Warming sweater. Her eyes were set on a few pignoli cookies, resting beside a tray of equally tempting cannolis. These hadn't been provided as part of the catering order, but rather by several guests.

Despite the gorgeous arrangements, something about the scene didn't seem quite right, as a dark form loomed beside the table. Her eyes panned upwards, and for a few moments Celestia wondered if the ghoulish figure she saw standing beyond the table was a misplaced Nightmare Night decoration. At least, until she spotted the opaque round spectacles and the gaunt ghoulish cheeks. Director Orcus' black suit and tie certainly stood out among the cheerful bright colors. No cigarette dangled from between his lips, likely because Celestia had banned smoking at this particular event... He stood with a small plate in hand, experimentally examining a chocolate chip cookie... Staring at it intensely, as if the tiny round baked good was some sort of... Alien life form.

"Director." Celestia greeted as cordially as she could, still bewildered at just what he was doing there. Briefly she worried that perhaps a new development with the Changeling Menace had emerged, or maybe an issue with the still missing 'Tome of Obscurum Scientia', but if that was the case, what would he be doing examining a cookie? Then again, the Director was still very much an enigma, perhaps he worried the cookies had been poisoned? Then why wouldn't he have had them thrown out, or the party shut down? Perhaps he'd been invited by Luna? That seemed the most likely answer. Orcus looked at Celestia and flashed what she supposed, to him, was a genuine grin.

"Hello, your highness!" Orcus responded, his rasping voice grating slightly on Celestia's ears. He seemed... Happy to see her. "Did you know that the cookie dates to seventh-century Abyssinia?" He asked, looking back at the cookie, which he finally opted to place on his plate. "They weren't anything like what we know now, of course. Flavorless wafer things, easy to transport as rations. Closer to hard tack than anything else..." He shook his head momentarily, trailing off. "Amazing, the useless knowledge you pick up in my line of work." His features became slightly less jubilant, more akin to his typical scowl. That he'd called any sort of knowledge or intelligence 'useless' surprised Celestia, and yet there he was.

"I wouldn't say it's totally useless." Celestia encouraged, taking a few of the cannolis for herself. "Who knows, you might want to become a baker some day. It's never too late to change careers." Orcus barked a laugh, an oddly pleasant sound, before looking down at his suit and tie. Celestia could see as well, the man in no way looked like he had any business going near a bakery... Still, there was something about the man that just didn't seem... Normal. Not in a suspicious way, as Celestia doubted a Changeling could ever hope to overpower whatever twisted magic it was that Orcus used. So what was it that bothered her so? "How are you feeling, Orcus...?" She asked, opting to just ask. She decided to drop the title of Director, going for a more casual approach.

"Pondering, as I've often done." Orcus shrugged before his eyes drifted to the dance floor. Celestia followed them, and found they fell upon Piercing and her sister. A rueful smile spread over his features. "Observos and Luna are together again, but the work is not done." He shrugged again. "Now we have these new concerns, you know which ones, to replace the old." He glanced about, just in case someone might be listening. "Princess Orzel's arrival has muddied the waters of time... Like a great stone tossed into a shallow lake. As such, I cannot divine the future as before." His scowl returned for a few moments, then morphed to one of sad acceptance. "Piercing seems to think that doesn't matter... Maybe he's right, maybe the time for such things has passed." Orcus started to reach into his jacket, likely for a cigarette, then stopped himself.

"Peering into the future is a dangerous business..." Confirmed Celestia, though she could read between the lines. Orcus was pondering his own usefulness, especially now that the Nocturne Agency had failed to prevent so many crises, and the raid on Facility One-Two-Seven. The Princess didn't doubt he had the ability to 'see' things, and perhaps that included his own future. "You've performed your duties far longer than any other official I know, not including myself. After we've handled the current crisis, is it such an extreme idea to think about leaving it behind?" Orcus chuckled faintly, that rueful smile once more returning to his face.

"No... Though it's not the only thing I've considered leaving behind." The Director slipped his hands into his pockets, looking about the room. "Do you know how long it's been since I've looked upon Thestral soil?" Celestia shook her head. "Not since the ending of the Nightmare War..." The Director's smile turned to a frown. "I used to live in Kalterberg, what's come to be known as 'Bug Bear Territory' in modern terms... I doubt anything remains." The man took a hand from his pocket and gestured about the room. "Equestria has become my home, but I must admit... It would be nice to leave it, for a while, to see if I might find where Kalterberg used to be." He shook his head. "Then who would look after this place while I was away, hmm...?" His eyes fell back on Luna and Piercing. "It would be easier, if I had someone with whom to share it with..." He shook his head. "Sorry, I doubt my problems are what you want to hear on this particular holiday."

"On the contrary, I'm liking this new side of you..." Assured Celestia, earning another hesitant smile from the man. "I'm sure there are plenty of ladies that would be interested in someone with your... Erm... Rugged good looks?" Orcus burst out laughing again, supporting himself on the table. The Princess actually rather liked the sound of the Director's laugh the more she heard it, and gradually the ghoulish visage he sported seemed less... Imposing. She was seeing him as more than 'The Director', or even as the old 'Legate Orcus'... He was a person, not just some implacable ex-cultist with a penchant for spy-craft. "Besides, I hear there's quite a large portion of Equestrian women that are interested in older men." Orcus held up a hand, steadying himself as he reigned in his chuckling.

"From your lips to the ears of the Gods." Orcus finally managed, setting his plate on the table and looking back towards the dance floor. The music of the swing song was replaced by a much more mellow slow dance. For a moment Celestia thought she saw uncertainty in the man's eyes, as if he wanted to say something else, before ultimately he cleared his throat. "Anyway, I won't trouble you any longer. Enjoy the rest of your evening, your Majesty..." With that he retrieved his plate and began to pile it high with the various deserts arrayed on the table. Celestia had to wonder just what it was he hadn't said, though it probably wasn't important... He would've told her if it was.

Nodding at Orcus' departure, Celestia resumed her earlier mission of acquiring some of the desserts present there. It'd be rough on her figure, but a few hours of exercise would hopefully mitigate it. Steadying her plate, Celestia carefully stepped away from the desert table and started towards the 'Royal Table'. Cadence and Shining Armor were seated there, joined by a happy, and slightly inebriated, looking Twilight Sparkle. Celestia had to wonder just how the girl couldn't realize the obvious 'chemistry' between her brother and former babysitter, but maybe she'd just had a little too much eggnog. Either way, the woman wouldn't be the one to spill the news. Maybe the couple was trying to tell her without 'telling her'? If that was the case, Twilight might need to see about getting her prescription lenses adjusted.

Cadence wore a modest gown, fittingly decorated for the night's celebration, while Shining wore his typical red jacketed dress uniform. Twilight was dressed as casually as perhaps she dared, a simple button down blouse, skirt, and dark stockings. It wasn't that different from her typical clothing, Celestia realized, though the blouse looked as though it'd been ironed and heavily starched. Shining nearly bolted to attention as Celestia approached, but Cadence prevented him from rising, thankfully. Setting her plate on the table, the Celestia took her seat and smiled warmly at the waiting trio.

"No need to strain yourself, Captain. This is a casual gathering, nothing more." Soothed Celestia, picking up one of the cannolis and taking a tentative bite. The filling was smooth, sweet, and creamy. Small chocolate chips also danced across her tongue, mixing with the crunchy savory shell, and perhaps just a hint of... Rum? Maybe brandy? Her eyes widened... It had to be, without a doubt, one of the most decadent pastries she'd ever had the pleasure of sampling. Swallowing the morsel, Celestia stared at the flavorful tube of pastry with shock. A few hours of exercise likely wouldn't make a dent, she realized grudgingly. "So how have things been in Ponyville?" She directed towards Twilight, before taking another bite.

"Oh, they've been excellent!" Twilight's smile broadened. "It's been mercifully quiet when it comes to 'World Ending Events'... Nothing major since that teensy-weensy little thingy... Y'know the one, right? With that crazy screaming guy?" Celestia nodded, inwardly chuckling at the young woman's significantly looser tongue. "Mayor Mare is up for reelection, and that's what most people seem interested in. I'm told it's the first contested election Ponyville's had in a long time..." Celestia raised an eyebrow at that. "Oh, um, Filthy Rich is running on the Black Crown ticket. No one I know thinks he'll win, though."

"Just because something seems certain, doesn't mean it is." Celestia hummed, leaning back in her seat and nudging the plate closer to the guests as an offer. Cadence accepted one of the pignolis, while Shining seemed uninterested. "Who knows? Mister Rich may surprise you... Not that I'm endorsing him, of course." Twilight nodded, taking one of the cookies for herself, albeit hesitantly.

In truth, Celestia couldn't pay attention to each and every little election underway throughout the country, but it didn't strike her as odd that Mister Rich would be running with the Black Crowns. He was a business man, but not the sort that the Noble Party tended to favor. He had little experience in politics, much like so many of the other candidates of the Black Crowns, but Celestia supposed the private sector could be just as cutthroat as life on the Mountain, if not more so...

"Come on, no politics... It's Hearth's Warming Eve." Cadence chided, her eyes darting to the pignoli, and Celestia suspected she was having the same realization about just how many calories were in them. Perhaps the two of them would need to exercise together. Celestia nodded concisely, her niece had a point about the conversation as well. "How has Spike been? I heard he's joined the Fire Department?" Twilight seemed briefly surprised by the question, but smiled proudly as she leaned back in her seat.

"Oh, he's super excited! He's a bit bummed out though, since the Canterlot election really kicked off... I told him it was best not to look at those papers, but..." Twilight peered at the table where the young Drake sat, or in its general vicinity, as to her it was lost behind a crowd of dancing party goers. "Still, he's shaping up to be such a strong little fella..." The woman lifted her glass of eggnog while Celestia scowled ever so slightly, primarily at the mention of the newspapers, and the photographs that had accompanied them.

Somehow a few brave, or stupid, paparazzi had managed to get onto the Castle grounds undetected. In so doing, they'd managed to take several pictures of both Rarity and Blueblood walking among the Gardens. They were remarkably tame, likely because getting any closer would've gotten the photographers caught... Indeed, those same photographers were quite lucky they hadn't been spotted, as the Guards were still authorized to shoot trespassers on site. Tame as the images they'd taken were, however, those photos been accompanied by sensationalized claims, as was always the case with the tabloids. The most egregious of which was that the Element of Generosity was secretly carrying Blueblood's child...

It was undoubtedly the work of Olympus Solare, as the race between he and the Prince was truly heating up. The special election for the Canterlot seat was less than a month away, and Solare was pulling out all the stops while Blueblood had run a comparatively 'clean' campaign. Most people still believed it was a contest of whom they disliked least, and the polling showed that they much preferred Blueblood, as one potential voter had dubbed him 'a crook we can trust'...

"Personally, I think the pictures were a good thing, actually." Twilight shrugged, unaware of Celestia's inner thoughts, while enjoying another bite of her cookie. "He got to see how happy Rarity is with Blueblood, and he's been a real trooper about it since... Though... A lot of the stories did irk him, I think..." Celestia smiled, lacing her fingers together. "I also think, and you didn't hear this from me, but... I think he might have a teensy weensy teeny tiny crush on Princess Orzel, but you didn't hear that from me... Did I say that already?" The woman looked at her now empty eggnog glass while Celestia's eyes flicked towards the distant table. "I hope things are going alright over there... Maybe I should go check on him? After I get more eggnog..."

"I think you've had enough..." Shining grunted, taking the glass away from his sister. "As for going over there? Let him be." The man continued, crossing his arms with a sly smile. "He's not a kid anymore, y'know? Sometimes he's gotta fend for himself." Twilight seemed conflicted, but ultimately nodded. Celestia's gaze lingered on the distant table, wondering if perhaps she should go check on Orzel... Once again Shining had a point, Orzel was more than capable of talking with Spike as it was, and she couldn't do that with her Aunt popping in unexpectedly. That'd be embarrassing. Still, Celestia couldn't help wondering just what was going on over there...

Situated well away from the dance floor, their joyful moment of dancing having concluded, Princess Luna and Piercing Gaze sat among the Griffon Ambassador and his entourage at the ambassador's table. The group in attendance this evening was more or less unchanged from those that'd attended the Grand Galloping Gala, though the Ambassador's wife had excused herself for their discussion. Luna and Piercing were joined by Director Orcus, who regarded the Griffon delegation from behind those nearly opaque spectacles of his. While the Hearth's Warming Eve Ball was supposed to be a strictly social affair, sometimes a request for audience arose that just couldn't be ignored. The subtle petition for assistance on behalf of the Griffon government was one such request...

Ambassador Flaumfeder's typically serious expression had become anxious as soon as Luna agreed to the meeting, and the imposing officers in his company were now characterized by equal parts sternness and uncertainty. Luna could understand the reason for their atypical behavior, given the dire nature of the topic they'd come to discuss with her.

The Griffon Empire's economy had been in shambles long before the ongoing drought throughout West Parthenia, but the lack of rainfall had led to marked increase in demand for irrigation water, which the Griffon infrastructure was in no position to supply. To pay for the system to be modernized, the Emperor had ordered the Griffon Treasury to significantly increase the money supply, which in turn decreased the value of the Griffon Königsmark... Its valued had plummeted to nearly zero, leading to rampant inflation, driving up the cost of everything from grain to gasoline. Grain prices in particular were so bad that in some cases bakeries would charge a wheelbarrow of Königsmarks to purchase a single loaf of bread. Others had taken to burning piles of Königsmarks in their fireplaces, as it was actually a cheaper means of heating their homes than purchasing wood or coal.

Needless to say, this created a significant problem for the Griffon Empire, in that it presented the perfect environment for widespread discontent to take root. The recent creation of the Black Crown Party in Equestria had inspired a similar uprising of rhetoric in the Empire against the status quo, leading to the various strikes and other work stoppages, which only further compounded the country's economic woes. It'd all culminated in the formation of the Iron Bloods, the Griffon equivalent of the Black Crown Party, though only in a general sense. The difference was that the Black Crowns were a political party, and the Iron Bloods... Weren't.

They certainly had political aspirations, but these existed outside the realm of current Imperial government. Among their most ardent supporters? Just about every Senior Officer in the Imperial Armed forces, at least those presiding over the Northern provinces. Therefore, it might've been more accurate to refer to them as a heavily armed, borderline insurgent group, very much intent on self governance. Already they'd started drumming up support for the Empire's provinces in the North to 'abandon the decadent South to its fate', as it was 'a gangrenous limb which would rather see the North perish than grant it freedom.'. In all honesty, the separatists weren't finding it all too difficult to find sympathetic citizens, given the current political climate.

In their summation, and Luna could see why they came to this conclusion, it was the people of Griffonstone that had allowed the Empire's booming iron industry to crumble. Numerous failed government programs, compounding upon one another, chaining together to suck millions of Königsmarks into a black hole of increasing government expenditure. The people were frustrated, hungry, freezing, and now grew tired of being dictated to from a city thousands of miles away, by an Emperor that'd never so much as set foot north of the Guto river.

Iron had been the life's blood of the North, while the Southern mountains were rich in gold. It was on those deposits of gold that the Empire still managed to maintain some degree of financial credit, which had prevented the Empire's economic collapse thus far... Without the gold, or foreign financial assistance, odds were the entire Imperial government would come screeching to a halt. Soldiers' paychecks would stop coming, and soon after they'd begin to question just how long they were willing to starve for an Emperor they'd never so much as laid eyes on. Now, Luna suspected the gold mines were beginning to 'run dry', and the Iron Bloods could smell the blood in the water...

That was what brought Ambassador Flaumfeder and his two military companions to request this unorthodox meeting with Princess Luna... Piercing was present primarily due to his interest in the political machinations of the 'New World', and Luna also thought it might help to have him around so she could 'pick his brain' later. Orcus was there, well, because he was Orcus. As director of Equestria's foremost intelligence agency, he'd be best informed as to how dire the situation actually was versus how the Ambassador made things out to be. He also had an apparent... Fondness... For the Griffon's provinces to the North, though only Luna seemed capable of picking up on it. Hopefully that wouldn't cloud his judgment.

"What the Empire is asking for, your Majesty, is the assistance of Equestria in the short term, both financially and militarily." Flaumfeder explained awkwardly, tapping the tips of his fingers together in apparent nervousness. "We have sufficient ground forces to quash a rebellion, so long as we can deploy them, but... Citizens aligned with the Iron Bloods have seized control of choke points along the Guto River, including the Lila Draw Bridge crossing. It's the only bridge across the river large enough to move troops and supplies through in any appreciable number."

Luna glanced at Orcus, and the Director gave only the most subtle of nods. Honestly, Luna was rather impressed... Regardless of how she felt about the 'rebels', their ability to secure and fortify that crucial passage spoke to their strategic forethought. They were more than just armed farmers and miners running amok, or at least their leaders were. The Iron Bloods knew they couldn't take the Empire in a one on one fight, in the event tensions flared to such a point... Then again, they wouldn't have to, they'd just need to dig and let the Empire's military grind itself down trying to fight through the mountains, exhausting the Empire's coffers even further, until eventually it was forced to sue for peace.

"Of course, no rebellion is yet underway, but..." Flaumfeder continued, it was obvious from his tone that he too understood just how precarious the Empire's position was. "The Emperor fears that sending troops to stabilize the region overland might 'kick things off', to use an Equestrian phrase."

"You're planning an amphibious landing, aren't you? That's why you want our military support?" Orcus asked evenly, leaning back in his seat with a hand on his chin, his eyes boring deep into the Griffon Major. "It's a risky maneuver, but it would allow you to land behind the force holding the pass at Lila... Encircling them, and possibly cutting the Northern territories in half." Major Klippenschaber seemed surprised at his observation, adjusting his monocle but nodding in confirmation. "Does the Empire not have sufficient airships to embark its troops over the mountains?" All three Equestrians knew the answer already, still they waited for the Ambassador confirm it with a hesitant nod.

"Normally, yes, but..." Flaumfeder began, his nervous expression morphing to one of genuine concern. "There are elements of the Imperial Air Fleet that are... Sympathetic to the Iron Bloods." He explained further, and Luna noted a considerable amount of sweat forming on his forehead.

It was a little more complicated than a fear of a mutiny, though Luna didn't doubt for a second that was also a risk. While on paper the Griffon's boasted one of the largest Airship Fleets in the world, the economic troubles facing the Empire had seen a good deal of those ships lapse into disrepair. Unlike a regular ship, which wasn't at immediate risk of sinking if all of its engines failed, airships like those used by the Empire were far less forgiving.

"The more pressing issue is not the potential for insubordination. The Iron Bloods have somehow made contact with a clan of Drakes inhabiting the mountains along the Guto, including Lila Pass." Further explained Flaumfeder, a statement that struck Luna as odd. However, another glance at Orcus confirmed that the Ambassador's words were once again true. "The clan's airship fleet is modest, but between them and a possible mutiny, the Emperor doesn't feel confident embarking troops over the mountains." Flaumfeder concluded, looking rather apologetic.

Drakes were known to build and fly massive airships, often painting them to look like dragons or other fearsome creatures. While certainly able to undergo an Elemental Transformation in a pinch, doing so consumed vast amounts of energy, one of the reasons the Draconic metabolism was so high... It was far easier for a Clan to pool its resources and build an airship than to feed its people with enough calories that they all might undergo a temporary transformation which, in theory, also might be used to overthrow a Clan's current leadership. At present, of these Clans resided in the Eastern Dragonlands, though that would likely change in a couple years, when they undertook their 'Great Migration' to the Southern Dragonlands... And people in Lone Star thought the raids they were sustaining now were bad.

There were some Clans that, having found a nice stretch of territory upon which to make camp, settled down and ceased migrating. Typically they made their homes in the Southern Dragonlands, or in other remote, hard to reach areas. So, while unusual to find a Clan of dragons inhabiting the Guto Range, it wasn't entirely impossible... Even a modest fleet of airships, crewed by Drakes, could very well be enough to bring the Imperial Air Fleet, in its current state, to a stalemate.

"No shots have been fired as of yet?" Asked Luna as she picked up a small glass of dessert wine, Major Klippenschaber nodded solemnly. "I will not lie to you, Ambassador. Equestria has domestic issues of its own, you have seen them yourself, and powerful as we may be... We must see to the needs of our own people first." Flaumfeder looked crestfallen, but not surprised.

"That being said, I am not convinced that your deployment of troops to 'stabilize the region' will do anything other than start a bloody, not to mention expensive, Civil War." She continued before sipping her wine, it was rather sweet, with just a hint of a 'berry' flavor. "Now, perhaps the Griffon Empire desires other assistance in this matter? Equestria could send mediators to reach some sort of agreement between your government and the..." She paused, picking her words. "Disenfranchised provinces of the North." She finally settled, then reiterated. "Bullets and bombs are costly, pens and paper are cheap." Flaumfeder looked actually relieved, lacing his fingers together on the table. Of course he did, Luna had no doubt that was what he would've angled for upon having his initial request declined...

"I believe that would be most helpful indeed, your Majesty." The Ambassador agreed with the first smile Luna had seen of the man since his arrival that night. "My people are stubborn, given to fits of temper... An Equestrian mediation, on neutral ground, might ease tensions considerably." Luna nodded quietly as the Ambassador rose from his seat, followed by the two soldier's he'd brought with him. Snapping his heels together, the man bowed deeply. "Vielen dank, Princess." He stated while the Major and Oberleutnant bowed as well, then all three stood at once. "If I may take my leave?" Luna nodded quietly.

"Of course, Ambassador. Please, do try to set aside matters of state for the remainder of the evening. Enjoy the party." The Princess encouraged, Flaumfeder smiled gratefully and nodded before he and his entourage departed, likely to find his wife. Luna took another sip of her wine, then set the glass on the table, allowing a long sigh of exasperation to pass her lips. "So, Director... How bad is it over there, really?" Orcus clenched his fist, summoning a burst of black spectral flames, tinted by an eerie green, which erupted around his hand. Gradually it formed into one of the countless identical manilla folders, so common among the Nocturne Agency's records.

Within, as one might expect of an intelligence folder, were reports and photographs... At first they appeared to depict an unassuming series of dust clouds, others were obviously a bird's eye view of hundreds of airplanes lining the edges of a runway. Luna recognized them from a series of threat assessment meetings they'd held, back when the Army Air Corps unsuccessfully petitioned the DAC for a new Air Superiority Fighter. Griffon EA-107s, aluminum skinned monoplanes, widely considered within the aviation community to be the most advanced and most heavily armed Air Superiority Fighter aircraft in the known world. Within the first few photographs alone, Luna counted at least five squadrons of them, giving up any attempt at guessing their numbers soon thereafter.

What concerned the Princess more wasn't the aircraft themselves, but rather the high quality close-up of their wing roundels. The typical Griffon Air Force roundel, a white circle with an image of a golden crown painted at its center, was absent. In its place was a white diamond, at the center of which was a pair of crossed swords, apparently applied in great haste. Add to that the dust clouds, the obvious result of tank and troop movements, and the picture became even more disconcerting. Every photograph in the file had been taken over the Northern Provinces, above military bases with soldiers and officers the Nocturne Agency's reports suspected owed allegiance to a man by the name of Adler von Eisenblut, the eponymous 'Iron Blood', as his name translated in Equestrian.

The folder also contained a dossier on the man himself, and it was equally concerning. A highly charismatic Oberst in the Griffon Army, the equivalent to an Equestrian Colonel. Eisenblut was unlike most of his fellow senior officers, in that he'd not been born to a noble family. His father had been a member of the Imperial Guard, and had thrown himself atop an assassin's grenade, saving the Emperor at a cost to his own life. For his sacrifice, he'd been awarded the Empire's highest military award, which entitled his then teenaged son, Adler von Eisenblut, to a scholarship to the prestigious Imperial Military Academy.

At just under thirty six, he was young for an Oberst... Youth didn't mean inexperience, however, as Eisenblut had made a name for himself with the Imperial Zebrican Expeditionary Corps, where he'd successfully defended Griffon gold interests and civilians against local insurgents. From that point Eisenblut was promoted to Generalmajor, the Griffon equivalent of a Major General, and transferred to take command of the 'Imperial Armed Forces in the Northern Provinces'. Evidently, the Imperial High Command hoped he might be able to use his experience with the IZEC to clamp down on the growing amount of civil unrest.

Eisenblut tended to lead from the front, even having lost his left eye when fighting hand-to-hand with an insurgent. This endeared him quite highly to his men and his subordinate officers, whom he treated with a firm but fair attitude. It was only recently that he'd entered the Griffon public consciousness, for the same reason he'd become known to the Nocturne Agency. The Generalmajor had refused to deploy his forces to violently suppress a worker's strike in the northern city of Rabenwald, and even went so far as to encourage other senior officers to do the same. The strike wasn't illegal, nor had those involved acted violently towards anyone, with a few minor exceptions.

Regardless of the legality of the strike, his refusal to fire on said strikers had earned him a severe reprimand, and a demotion back to Oberst. Internal communiques indicated he'd been given orders to report to take command of a comparatively small garrison in the Griffon controlled Kanarienvogel Islands. He'd grudgingly complied, or so it first seemed... Now, the soldiers formerly under his command, as well as other officers that shared his political leanings, were becoming far more active within the Iron Blood party. That they were painting their vehicles with different markings than those typically used by the Empire was, needless to say, not good.

Luna had been alive for a very long time, and as Princess she'd watched the beginnings of thousands of civil conflicts, not the least of which being the Nightmare War. One of the first things the Lunar Legions did at the outset was to paint their armor a dark shade of blue, as to better distinguish themselves in appearance from the Solar Loyalists, as it lessened chances of attacking a friendly unit in error. While there wasn't any of the typical fiery rhetoric associated with the build up to a coup d'etat, when taken in accordance with the meeting she'd just had with the Griffon Ambassador, Luna nonetheless found the images to be alarming.

It was unclear how the High Command would respond to a mutiny, if they'd respond at all. For all their various claims of authority and strength, the Empire's civil government tended to be rather feeble and feckless. It could simply be that the Northern Provinces declared themselves a sovereign state, and that despite their plans to 'stabilize the reason, the Empire might very well do nothing...

Nocturne Agency observers embedded in Griffon townships were also indicating a drastic increase in both violent and property crime. While this was at first attributed to the Chaos Wave, those effects should've worn off by now. The motives for the rise in general anarchy were impossible to fully discern from a distance, but starvation, inflation, and the onset of a winter that was already a record breaker for cold and snowfall in West Parthenia certainly had to be contributing factors...

"So... Bad?" Piercing stated simply as he too read over the dossier and examined the photos. Orcus merely nodded, closing the folder and dismissing it in another burst of black fire.

"Why was I or my sister not informed of these photographs sooner?" Luna's tone was slightly accusatory, but if Orcus minded, he didn't make any sign. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms across his chest.

"They were only developed a couple hours ago. As there is little we can do immediately, I was going to bring it up with Celestia at the morning threat assessment tomorrow." He stated simply, briefly reaching to his lips as if to hold a cigarette, only to pause and scowl as he realized he didn't have one. "I thought that, considering you would be indisposed anyway, I should allow you to enjoy the evening with as little stress as possible." Luna opened her mouth to retort, but... Orcus was right. There really wasn't a whole lot Equestria could do right now, and she had to go with Orzel on the train to the West Coast as part of the ruse for why her daughter wasn't in Canterlot anymore.

"Are we sure that the people that visited our antique store a month ago weren't doing so on behalf this guy, or even the Emperor himself? Those guys were really good antique collectors. Some might even say special antique collectors." Piercing suggested more seriously, lacing his fingers together on the table and leaning forward. "I mean, if the Empire's hurting for funds, I'm sure they'd be happy to sell off a couple antiques, even ones that don't technically belong to them." Luna hadn't even considered that as a possibility, but a quick look at Orcus revealed he didn't think that was likely.

"Our guests have all indicated the trip they made to the antique store was on behalf of someone far closer to home, and I'm inclined to believe them." Orcus explained, pushing his spectacles back on his nose and folding his hands in his lap. "Besides, the Empire has its own antiques. If they were really interested in getting into that sort of business, they could do so without having to visit one of our stores." Luna looked at both men, both of whom communicated so fluently in that annoying 'code lingo' of theirs that she almost believed they might actually be talking about Antiques. "Speaking of business, how are things going with those shovels I ordered from the Ironmonger?"

"We still need to hire some workers to do put the handles on on the spades, but the Ironmonger has personally prepared the machines for production. We should have the first batch of shovels out in a month or so." Piercing stated casually, as if to taunt Luna's sense of reality... "Then we'll ship them to your cousin up North, so he can see if the handles are long enough. If they're not? Well, we should be able to make alterations for the next batch on the go. Speaking of gardening tools, the Ironmonger is still set on the intermediate sized trowels-."

"Enough!" Luna declared forcefully, holding both hands up to silence the men on either side of her. Her palms glowed faintly, and a few moments later the entire table was briefly bathed in a bright blue glow. "I have created a dome of silence around the table, so you may speak plainly, if only to spare my ears from that irritating double talk. Please, try to limit your discussion, this is Hearth's Warming Eve!" Orcus and Piercing looked sheepishly at her, then the latter cleared his throat.

"As I said earlier, the PM-72 is primed for mass production, and Orzel is already in the process of working up a design for the new rifle." Piercing plainly stated, and immediately Luna regretted her decision to let them speak so freely. "I've taken a look at her latest concept drawings, and while I'm nowhere near an expert on firearms... It's really something. Gas operated, rotating locking bolt, long stroke piston. She seems set on the idea of detachable magazines as well, which... Having fired the PM-72 for myself, I find a lot easier to manipulate than stripper clips."

"As long as she's making steady progress... We can cover the rest in greater detail at your Agency Firearms Certification test." He stated diplomatically, much to Luna's relief, as she really didn't want to hear about whatever it was Orzel was cooking up. Meanwhile Piercing and Orcus began talking about other matters that mattered little to Luna, not that she normally wouldn't be paying attention. She just had other things on her mind.

The woman looked throughout the room for any sign of Orzel, as she hadn't seen the girl since they'd eaten dinner a good while ago. After searching the thinning crowds for any sign of her daughter, no mean feat given that Orzel's compact nature made it easy for her to disappear in a sea of people. Eventually Luna spotted the girl, walking beside Spike along the edge of the ballroom, apparently talking up a storm with the young man.

That was one worry Luna could set aside, for the time being at least... Her reluctance about him and her daughter being friends had abated as she came to know more about Spike, still... She worried. Orzel could put up a brave front just as well as any Princess, she might've even believed she was fine, but... Luna still remembered that first meeting she'd had with Doctor Scratch, when she'd first learned Orzel had thought about... Doing something foolish. For all the progress the girl had made, there was still that part of Luna that feared, however unlikely, that her child might return to such a state. Spike would certainly never intentionally hurt Orzel, Luna trusted that much, but... Unintentionally? That was far harder to say.

At the same time the woman knew that, without someone to talk to or correspond with, Orzel would likely feel very isolated when she arrived at Amberjack Island... That was one of the many concerns Doctor Scratch had voiced about the plan, as prolonged periods of social isolation could do considerable damage to an already troubled psyche. Considering the girl already felt isolated on account of her recently returned inability to speak Equestrian, isolation was a problem that weighed heavily in the Princess's mind. What Orzel would do on that island, virtually in exile, with a blank check and nothing but spare time to create weapons, was yet another fear Luna would have to live with for the foreseeable future.

Piercing had agreed to run the majority of the business side of things, in exchange for a modest stock option. Already he'd lined up deals to purchase several other decommissioned arsenals, for the purposes of increasing Basilisk Defense Technologies production capabilities. With his ability to organize and Orzel's design work, both of them stood to make a fortune. That was what worried Luna most of all, not so much for Piercing's sake, but for Orzel's... Money could be a very powerful lure for anyone, but especially for a Drake... They'd already discussed Orzel's idea to reduce the conflict of interest, and it made sense, at least somewhat. Luna shook her head, she'd just need to trust that her daughter's priorities were already squared away.

Luna watched Spike and Orzel stop beside one of the windows, looking out into the snow storm. For a few moments she looked over to Piercing, recalling a similar walk on an equally similar evening. There was little Luna could do, however, not without potentially making a scene. All she really could do was observe from a distance, and hope that matters didn't become any more complicated than they already were...

The band had just struck up another song, a slower and almost sleepy sounding melody, another sure sign that the evening's festivities would soon be winding down. By now, most of the guests had already departed, giving the Ballroom an almost lonely atmosphere. Well, maybe lonely wasn't the right word? The room was certainly large, but those that remained inside were still talking. Intimate... That made more sense. For the occupants of two seats directly adjacent to the mostly shuttered buffet, it wasn't so much lonely or intimate as it was... Quiet. Their feet ached from a combination of ill fitting dress shoes and a good amount of walking, but those painful sensations seemed worlds away for the unlikely couple, who at present sat comfortably beside one another.

"So... Are you sure you still want to be a part of all this...?" Blueblood asked tiredly, glancing to his left as Rarity leaned her head against his shoulder. The man moved his arm slightly, draping it around her. "You've seen it numerous times now. Living among the Canterlot Nobility isn't necessarily a cake walk." Even in this tired state, to Blueblood's eyes, she remained the most radiant creature to ever so much as grace the world with her presence. Her hair was slightly messy, but the two of them had stopped caring about appearances almost as soon as the last ambassadorial couple departed.

"Oh, you're not going to get rid of me that easy." Rarity responded, equally exhausted, scooting her seat just a little closer. "I mean, what would the papers say if you kicked the woman carrying your baby to the curb?" Blueblood actually got a good chuckle out of that, leaning his head against hers and sighing through his nose.

"I am going to kill Solare for starting that rumor... I haven't decided if that's literal or figurative yet." He stated coolly, smiling faintly as he observed the rest of the room. "But... Not tonight. Tonight...? I'm all yours, Princess Platinum." Rarity tittered at that, bringing a hand to her chest and fiddling with a platinum and diamond necklace she'd been wearing since the pageant. It went remarkably well with her evening gown, and Blueblood found its ability to accent her eyes to be well worth the twelve-hundred Bit price tag, not that he'd told that was what it cost... The necklace was, after all, a Hearth's Warming Eve gift.

"I still say you didn't need to get this. You don't have to spend so much money on me." The woman chided half-heartedly, prompting Blueblood to sit up a bit straighter. Had she just read his mind? "I live and breathe fashion, Darling... I'm well acquainted with the work of Rubis de Feu. Though... It is certainly an exquisite piece." The Prince sighed, unable to constrain his widening grin as he shook his head... She could read his mind, and he couldn't be happier with that arrangement.

"I should've known I'd never be able to sneak that one by you." Blueblood declared as Rarity lifted her head from his shoulder, this time to once again take a closer look at the necklace. "I suppose I'll just need to find something I can surprise you with next time. How much do you know about cars?" Rarity's incredulous expression told him he'd likely found a winner...

Truth be told, there was more to his questions than ideas for a gift. He'd been thinking a great deal on some of the things that'd been said about Rarity in Canterlot's newspapers, and though Rarity hadn't said anything, it obviously bothered her. She'd put up with so much, certainly more than she deserved, still she'd stuck by his side. In some cases, on the rare occasion where she was approached for comment, she'd even stick up for him... He might've been getting ahead of himself, but... A good sized part of the Prince wanted to spend the rest of his life with Rarity. Of course they'd only been together for a short time, but if things continued along at their current pace... Well, it was a very real possibility.

"Oh, would you look at that...?" Rarity said with a mixture of surprise and elation, Blueblood's eyes quickly scanned the diminishing party for any sign of what might've drawn her attention... Then he spotted his cousin Orzel, walking together at the far side of the room with that remarkably tall 'Spike' boy. Blueblood only knew the fellow in passing, primarily through Rarity's stories about him, including his 'secret' crush on her. "I knew there was something going on between the two of them." The woman cooed, as if observing a particularly adorable puppy.

"Really? I don't see it..." Blueblood stated curiously, squinting his eyes at the distant teenagers. They just looked like they were walking and talking, and as far as the Princess could tell, his cousin looked... Well... About as expressive as a slab of granite. Then again, she always looked like that... He supposed it was better than the frantic mannerisms he'd noticed upon first meeting her. Blueblood wasn't particularly good at reading people of a stoic persuasion, there were very few that could do so well. Politically speaking it could serve as a good way of throwing off one's opponents, if done correctly. If done incorrectly such mannerisms ran the risk of coming off as overly cautious or boring.

"There's definitely something between them..." Rarity affirmed, leaning on the table and observing the duo from across the room. Blueblood tried searching for whatever sign the woman was seeing, but for the life of him he couldn't see it, not clearly at any rate. "They could've sat down any time now, especially with so many open seats, so why not? Methinks they're circling the dance floor." Blueblood narrowed his eyes, leaning forward and squinting at the pair...

"Or they just want privacy while they talk." The man theorized, leaning back in his seat. "Aunt Luna can be... Protective." Rarity hummed at the suggestion, but she looked unconvinced.

The man briefly considered mentioning that Orzel would be departing soon, but... Rarity wasn't on the list of people authorized to know about that. The girl would leave at dawn the next day, for reasons that Blueblood had yet to be informed over. The Prince honestly doubted his aunt would do something like send her daughter away over a boy like Spike... That, coupled with the recent 'Operation Firewatch' and subsequent creation of the Civil Defense Agency, told him there was something afoot... Something he really should've been informed about.

While Blueblood was by no means an expert on national crises, it certainly couldn't hurt to get a fresh perspective, right...? He got the feeling that even Orzel had more information about what was happening, as she'd been spending quite a bit of her time working on... Whatever it was she worked on in that dingy old factory of hers. He knew that it likely had to do with the recently stepped up level of palatial security, perhaps Orzel was just better equipped to handle the problem, but... Tonight wasn't really the time to worry about such things.

He'd ask Celestia about it tomorrow, after Luna and Orzel departed for wherever it was they were going. Celestia was a little easier to convince when she was on her own... If that failed, he might be able to pump the recently introduced 'Piercing Gaze' for information. Far be it from Blueblood to question Luna's choice in suitor, but... He didn't really see the appeal. Of course he wasn't one to throw stones either, seeing as his relationship with a treasure like Rarity was equally unlikely in the eyes of the public. Still, Piercing had a look about him that suggested he might be more than the slightly awkward scholar he presented himself as.

"See?" Rarity suddenly exclaimed, pointing to the two teens as they neared the edge of the dance floor. "I told you..." Blueblood eyed the pair cautiously, they were far closer now, and he could indeed see that his cousin appeared less implacable than usual. Still, nearing the dance floor was one thing, actually stepping out onto the dance floor was another, and the latter point remained to be seen...

Spike's heart was racing about as fast as he'd ever heard it in his ears before, and it had very little to do with the lengthy walk he and the Princess had just enjoyed. Anyone could see that the party would soon come to an end, and with its conclusion would arrive the inevitable need to depart back to Ponyville. Since first meeting up that evening, the two had conversed entirely in Draconic, as Orzel's grasp of spoken Equestrian had recently become... Tenuous. He and Orzel had spent the past several hours talking amicably among one another, covering so many topics that they'd wanted to save for their daily lunches all at once, and... It'd been a fairly eye opening experience.

Orzel had opened up to him about much of her life in the Szafirian Empire, and the world she portrayed was difficult for Spike to truly comprehend. She'd even mentioned a few things that the boy suspected she'd never mentioned to anyone else, stories mostly... But each one contributed to clearing up many of the strange mannerisms and obsessions Spike had noticed about the Princess. For instance, just that evening he'd watched her spend five minutes arranging the potatoes on her plate according to size, coloration, and texture. Then she'd cut her steak into tiny, nearly perfect, cubes... She did this with every streak she'd eaten, of which there were plenty.

Spike by how had deduced that a great deal of her reasoning behind it was for the purpose of maintaining some level of control in her environment. There was also a very real concern of what an unkempt house might lead to in the Szafirian Empire, were the 'certain parties' ever to see it. From there they'd moved on to subjects of a less personal nature, namely their reasons for preferring certain model kits over others, as well as their thoughts on the latest book in the EG-1 series. Spike preferred model airplanes to model ships because, in his experience, model airplanes could be larger and maintain a decent level of detail. As for Orzel's feeling on the book in question, her reaction to the story was... Lukewarm.

Having exhausted all the topics either of them could come up with for the time being, their conversation slowly dwindled... Still, neither of them wanted to stop talking, or walking, with one another. They'd simply walked laps around the ballroom for a couple minutes before Spike got to thinking that now was probably the last chance he'd ever have to talk with Orzel for the foreseeable future... The last time he'd ever get the opportunity to potentially get certain things off of his chest.

Spike kept thinking about what might happen after Orzel went off to parts unknown. What if she met someone else...? What if he never got to tell her how he felt, and just had to live with that knowledge for the rest of his life? He knew how active his anxiety was, and had no doubt that it would have a field day with a regret as juicy as that. So, as they were preparing to lap the room one more time, Spike made a sudden suggestion... Well, more accurately he blurted it out without really thinking about it.

"Would you care to dance, my Lady?" The young man was somehow able to make the request sound confident, or at the very least not nearly as nervous as he actually was. That he managed to do this while speaking Draconic, his second language, was all the more impressive... At least, it was to him.

The Princess had stopped mid step, then she stared at him for a few moments, her cheeks flushing as they always did. The girl opened her mouth to speak, but... Closed it shortly after, answering with only a mute nod, leading Spike to worry he might've overstepped some boundary. With little hesitation the two of them had made for the edge of the dance floor, and it was there that the prospective firefighter found himself with his feet to the flames, figuratively speaking. He still might've been able to back out, but as soon as he and Orzel stepped out onto the polished wood, one way or another he'd have to tell her, else he'd be forced to live with his own cowardice for the rest of his life.

Taking the Princess by the hand, he took a deep breath, then set his foot out onto the dance floor. She'd dressed for the party in a rather casual outfit, a black turtlenecked woolen sweater and a blue floor length skirt, which swished majestically as she moved to keep up with him. It was slightly more casual than his own attire, a suit that Rarity had tailored for him just for that evening... He thought it made him look particularly dashing, especially considering he'd started growing a full beard. Together, the respective outfits complemented each other quite well.

The Princess only came up to his chest now that they were up close, so he wasn't quite sure how to position his hands, and their first few steps were visibly awkward. The initial terror Spike felt was quickly subdued when the Princess placed her hand on his shoulder, the other gently grasping his fingers as together the two of them moved in time with the ongoing song. It was, somewhat fittingly, a slow romantic piece...

"I did not think you knew how to dance..." Orzel said quietly as the two of them moved across the floor, maintaining the pattern that night of speaking exclusively Draconic. Spike smiled sheepishly, looking nervously about the rest of the room. He soon spotted Rarity, who was smiling the widest Cheshire grin he'd ever seen.

"Well, that makes two of us, because I didn't think I knew either." The young man managed, briefly looking at the few other pairs dancing among them. Orzel offered one of those little cough-like giggles of hers, leaning her head forward. Spike eyed the new necklace she was wearing for a brief moment, though only to admire the fine quality of the rubies set in its surface. The gold contrasted well with the black wool, further accented by her crimson headscarf. "There's a lot of stuff I didn't think I knew, actually... A lot of stuff I don't think you know, either..."

Orzel looked at him with a barely visible raised eyebrow, her eyes shimmering like gemstones. Spike got the sense whatever else was bothering her, it wasn't anything he'd done. The Princess moved closer to him, and it was at this point the young man felt her virtually trembling in his arms. This was the closest the two of them had ever been, and it was only now that Spike saw how... Vulnerable she was. There he was thinking it'd been tough getting up the nerve to ask her to dance, he hadn't even considered that she might be just as nervous about taking that chance... All the more reason for Spike not to screw this next bit up. He tried to think of something witty, or at the very least creative, but the truth was he'd never thought he'd make it this far.

"I had this whole speech planned out in my head, but... I guess I don't know how much time I have left, so... Forget it." He looked off at Rarity across the room, thinking about how much time he'd spent 'spinning his wheels' for her... This was it. Time to bite the bullet, be a man... "I've been racking my brain trying to think of a way to tell you that I like you... As more than a friend. I have, for a very long time." Orzel's features briefly shifted to about as genuinely shocked as she ever allowed herself to get, but she swiftly gained control of herself and looked down at the floor.

"I... I had suspected as much..." The Princess started, subtly stepping closer to him as they continued to move with the music. "I care a great deal for you as more than a friend as well, Spike..." She paused. "I apologize, I do not know how to properly put my feelings into words." Orzel leaned her head against his chest, sighing faintly through her nose. Spike nearly stopped, because for a few moments he felt her shake in his arms, then... Was... Was she crying? "You do not think I am ugly?" Spike once again almost froze, as in that moment... Things started to make more sense. Why the Princess always insisted on covering her face, for one thing.

"Of course not." The young man stated firmly, his eyes panning over the table where Princess Luna, Princess Celestia, Twilight, and a handful of other people were now seated. Twilight and Celestia looked pleased with what they were seeing, while Princess Luna... Not so much. None of them knew what was being said on the dance floor, and Spike wasn't entirely sure he wanted them to. "I... I admit, I don't really know what else to say here. I don't want to say the wrong thing, y'know? Like I would mean it as a positive thing, but..."

Spike trailed off as the two of them just continued their dance, each apparently processing the news shared by the other. It was just starting to set in, he'd told the Princess how she felt, and she essentially felt the same way. He should've been over the moon... This was the part in all the other books where the hero and the Princess should've been overcome by joy... But there was no swelling music, no outspoken jovial response, it was just him and the Princess. If anything, Spike was afraid to make a step in any direction for fear of undoing what he'd built up in his head as the largest hurdle so far...

"Why did you not tell me sooner?" Orzel asked quietly as the pair made their way around the dance floor, her head still resting against his chest. Just from that alone Spike could tell she was still crying, and that, more than anything, was playing havoc with his head. He didn't think they were sad tears, of course, but... Orzel didn't cry. Period. As far as Spike knew, it just didn't happen. She'd told him about the night her family died without so much as getting misty eyed, among other equally saddening events that easily might've had someone else bawling their eyes out, but this... This was what got her?

"I guess I was also scared I wouldn't be able to handle all the stuff that comes with you being a Princess..." Spike answered honestly, cautious of how best to handle his response. "I don't know the first thing about politics." Orzel giggled again, a little softer this time, which did wonders to boost his confidence that the tears were anything but the product of sadness.

"I would not expect you to..." The Princess stated quietly as the two of them neared the edge of the dance floor. "You forget that I am also quite new to this." Spike hummed quietly in acknowledgment, adjusting the placement of his hands now that he wasn't quite as nervous. "You need not concern yourself with politics, Spike. In fact, I find that to be one of your more endearing qualities." Orzel took a few deep breaths, leaning against Spike a bit more, allowing him to lead the dance with a greater deal of control. "I am... Unsure of where we go from this point?" Spike chuckled faintly, that was a first... Typically the Princess had a plan for everything, or a vague outline, or at the very least some sort of... Word cloud?

"Well, again, I think that makes to of us..." Temporized Spike, his brow furrowing as he pondered what the next proper course of action was. It wasn't like they had a lot of time to go out for dinner or anything, especially seeing as it seemed obvious the current song was going to be the last of the evening. "I guess for now we just keep doing what we did before? Writing letters to one another, talking on the phone, and so on... Then, whenever you get back, we can, I don't know... Go to dinner?" The Princess looked up at him, her teary eyes intensely pensive, then shook her head.

"I do not feel comfortable eating in public. The last thing I would want is for the press to get a picture of us eating as we normally do..." Orzel countered, leaning more against him as they continued moving with the music. "Perhaps we could see an opera?" Spike was unable to hide a wince, opera was decidedly not his scene. Orzel picked up on that fairly quickly, and responded with another one of those odd giggles of hers. "Okay... No opera. Maybe we just, what is the idiom...? Play it by ear?" She offered a small smile, an actual smile, far more fitting her beautiful features than the typical stoic mask. It lingered considerably longer than any previous smile he'd seen, and warmed his spirits with its sincerity. "What will it matter what we are doing, so long as we are spending time together?"

"I hadn't thought of it that way..." Spike spoke with a tone of realization, all while leading the Princess closer to the edge of the dance floor. The song was reaching its closing notes, in just a few moments the evening would come to its conclusion... "I'm really going to miss you. Like... I knew it was coming, but it's all just hitting me now."

That was a bit of an understatement... He'd had so many worries to focus on that night that the actual matter of saying goodbye had been pushed to the back burner. Now, for a few blissful minutes, he'd actually gotten to feel like the luckiest guy alive... Only to have it ripped away from him. The two came to a stop just as the music ended, though Orzel didn't step away as Spike expected. Instead, she leaned against the young man, hugging him tightly. In all the time he'd been alive, he'd been hugged by many people, but... This one? This one felt different... Not bad, just... Different. More personal.

"Things will be okay." Orzel assured him before relinquishing the hug, then she looked up at him with those gorgeous emerald eyes of hers. For a few moments she stopped beside one of the tables, taking a napkin and dabbing at her cheeks, having brought the tears under control by now. "For now, I think it might be best to keep this development from my Mother... I am not certain she will approve." Spike briefly considered telling Orzel that Princess Luna very probably knew already, but... He wasn't sure what to say. Regardless, with the band having played the last song, the buffet closed, and the hour thoroughly late, the moment he'd been dreading all evening had all but come to pass.

The two of them made their way over to the table where their respective parents sat, all of whom were in the midst of talking about this or that... It was a phenomenon Spike was all too familiar with in Ponyville. Everyone had to go home, but no one wanted to be the first to leave. This typically led to a twenty minute period of the people involved insisting that they really had to be going, often numerous times, until finally someone had enough sitting around and actually left. Speaking of leaving, Spike hadn't seen Rarity since she'd grinned at him across the room, nor had he seen Prince Blueblood.

Maybe Blueblood had retired early, but that really didn't make sense seeing as Rarity lived in Ponyville, so why would she leave at the same time as the Prince? Maybe she just wanted to beat the traffic to the train station? It still didn't explain why the woman hadn't at least stopped to say goodbye. Spike supposed it was probably just an innocent oversight, the result of understandable exhaustion and a desire to get home. Were this any other night, the young man was certain he'd be well on board with that line of thinking... Just as he feared the night would reach its conclusion, however, the sentence of bidding Orzel farewell was stayed by an unanticipated outburst.

"You guys can't leave yet!" Celestia abruptly declared, bringing all eyes towards her. Spike was briefly taken off guard, he'd become so used to speaking Draconic that evening that hearing Equestrian sounded... Strange. He didn't know what she could possibly mean, it most certainly seemed like there was nothing else to keep them around, much as he wished that were the case. The few remaining members of the Castle Staff were in the process of leaving, turning off many of the ballroom's illustrious chandeliers and other light fixtures. All that remained to illuminate the cavernous space was the warm friendly glow emanating from the sparkling Hearth's Warming tree. "We still have presents under the tree, and I know for a fact there's at least one for each of you!" The woman explained cheerfully, gesturing to area currently dominated by the stately pine.

Spike inhaled sharply as he recalled that he'd actually placed something under the tree at the start of the evening. With all that'd happened, and all the hours that'd passed, it almost entirely slipped his mind. The gift itself wasn't anything world shattering, though it was maybe a tad out of the ordinary as far as gifts for a Princess might be concerned. It was just something Spike sent away for in one of the mail order catalogs that occasionally made the rounds at the library. He'd even paid an extra five Bits to have it delivered via teleportation magic, just so he was certain it'd be there in time for Orzel's departure.

Honestly, Spike didn't expect he'd get the chance to be around whenever the Princess opened it, seeing as most of the time presents were left until Hearth's Warming Day. Looking over at Orzel, he could see the hidden joy blazing in her eyes. Celestia was giving them a few more minutes, maybe even an hour, to just be together... While Spike was certainly nervous about being included in what for all intents and purposes was a private family moment, the notion of spending a little more time with his Princess was no less welcome.

"That's a great idea!" Twilight chimed in, prompting Spike to cast a look at Orzel, just to ensure that she was okay with the idea. The Princess looked at him serenely, once more assuring the young man that things would be alright. The rest of the group seemed inclined to go along with Celestia's suggestion, and together they made their way to the tree... Orzel never strayed more than a few feet from Spike, all the while Princess Luna was watching him intently. If looks could kill, he'd be dead where he stood.

They assembled around the tree, some dragging seats over from the now abandoned tables, others opting to sit on the floor itself. The lights were low, and Celestia summoned a small phonograph to give the scene a more festive flair. It commenced to play a slow piano rendition of an upbeat holiday tune, which when coupled with the low light, might've been misconstrued as potentially romantic... Most of the adults continued to chat among themselves, meanwhile Spike and Orzel sat beside one another. Every now and then they'd meet eachother's eyes, blush, and then look away... This too was doubtful to go unnoticed by the protective eyes of Princess Luna, though as of yet she'd failed to say or do anything beyond staring Spike down.

There were quite a few boxes and bags resting beneath the tree, some were small boxes, others looked to be full sized shipping crates, easily enough to keep them busy for the next forty-five minutes. All of were wrapped in festive colorful papers, accentuated by bright red ribbons and bows. It was easy for Spike to spot the package that he'd brought, and a little embarrassing when compared to its flashy neighbors. He'd paid extra for gift wrapping, but that 'gift wrapping' amounted to little more than brown paper and butcher's twine. The parcel itself was about the size of a bread box, further adding to the illusion that it was the odd gift out, as it was one of the smaller ones in the pile.

First to open their presents were Cadence and Shining Armor, both of whom Spike was considering approaching for advice later. Obviously, Shining had far more experience courting Princesses than anyone, and Cadence, as the court-ee, would equally be qualified to attest to the actual effectiveness of said courting practices. Twilight evidently still failed to see that the pair was an item, though for how much long that would last was difficult to determine. Still, Spike didn't plan on being the one to break the news to her, as he wasn't sure either Cadence or Shining would appreciate him doing so.

Cadence and Shining Armor had purchased gifts for one another, in addition to those that'd been given by their immediate family. The Captain of the Guard's eyes went wide as he opened an envelope, which contained season tickets for the 'Mountaineers', Canterlot's baseball team. They included a private viewing box overlooking home plate, complete with buffet... Spike could've sworn he saw tears form in the big soldier's eyes, not that he'd blame the man. While not the biggest sports fan out there, Spike could still appreciate a good ballgame when the mood suited him. Cadence, meanwhile, received a far less expensive gift... A pink beret, which came with a chin strap of all things. It must've meant something to the woman, because she burst out laughing, mentioning something about a show they'd gone to see a while ago. To top things off, she gave Shining a great big kiss on the lips.

"Hey, Spike...?" Quietly asked Twilight, the young man looked over. "Do you think there's something going on between Cadence and Shining?" Spike's jaw hung slack for a few moments, he honestly wasn't sure how to respond. After a few moments hesitation, he opted to just... Shrug. He was honestly amazed that Twilight couldn't figure that out on her own... Then again, she had been hitting the eggnog pretty hard that evening.

Next in the running were the gifts given between the Princesses themselves, starting with a brand new set of star charts for Luna. Celestia accepted a remarkably tacky looking snow globe, depicting a coyote poised to eat a woodpecker, given to her by her sister... The woman absolutely adored the thing in spite of the obvious cheapness, she must've had a thing for curios. Piercing Gaze, whom Orzel had regularly described as her lab assistant and quasi-step-father, gave Celestia a similar bric-a-brac... A little statuette of baseball player Clutch Fencebuster, whose head bobbled about on a spring. This gift giving went back and forth, until eventually all eyes fell on Orzel, whom had yet to give, or receive, a gift.

"I vasss think-ink you might like thisss, as not ai-bull to continue lessonsss." Orzel spoke up quietly in Equestrian, the first time Spike had heard her do so that night. From the sound of things she was trying mightily to rein in the hissing, to varying degrees of success. The girl picked up a leather bound book from the nearby pile, held shut with a bright red ribbon, tied into a bow. She handed it to Piercing Gaze, who took it cautiously. "Only ssshort time to write, so I comp-leate when come bahk." The man removed the bow, then opened the book. After a few moments he smiled widely, rapidly leafing through the pages with great speed.

"This is..." He began, then trailed off with mild disbelief. "This is the most extensive collection of the Kwarczkie language I have ever seen. If I might ask, how do you know the details of so many words? The definitions? The classifications?" Orzel paused momentarily, her brow furrowing for a moment or two, before she ultimately shrugged.

"Do not know..." She admitted simply. "They jussst... Come-ink to me as I wrote." Spike couldn't help but notice her hand drifting towards the pendant that hung around her neck, idly fiddling with it for a few moments. Twilight meanwhile scooted over towards Piercing, almost hesitantly at first, but Spike supposed her curiosity about the book won out. Why she was hesitant was another mystery, though he didn't feel compelled to press her on it. It wasn't any of Spike's business. "As I sssay, is not complete, ssso I mail re-main-ink pah-jesss. You have my apple-ogiesss."

Piercing cautiously allowed Twilight to examine the book, taking a book of his own from the pile. Spike noted that this one looked far older, older than any book had a right to be. Perhaps even the oldest book he'd ever seen. This he handed to Orzel, who accepted it daintily. She examined the spine of the book with furrowed brow, obviously intrigued, as it had no discernible title where one might typically find one. With a great deal of care, the Princess opened the cover.

"By Lexicosss...." Orzel said softly, almost in disbelief. "Firssst edition of 'Empire', and..." The girl examined the pages closely, then the cover again, then the spine. Her eyes went wide. "Isss comp-leat-ly original!"

"Really!?" Twilight suddenly cried out again, handing the Kwarczkie Dictionary back to Piercing as she moved to look at what Spike assumed to be a very old book... Empire was a good thousand years old by his recollection, so a first edition was probably the same age. "All the pages are here... The illustrations are all done by hand, and is that...?" The woman and Orzel almost in unison emitted what had to be the strangest sound Spike had ever heard from either of them. A high pitched 'Squee!' the likes of which he never thought would be capable of coming out of Orzel, or his Mom, for that matter. "Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! He signed it! Observos the Watchful actually signed it!"

Orzel actually hugged the book against her chest, gaining the largest, toothiest, smile Spike had ever seen of her thus far. Every tooth had by now become razor sharp, all the better for tearing away and chewing chunks of raw meat. They had taken on a faintly metallic luster, and and Spike knew from his own shifting dentition that the Princess bite force was likely upwards of seven-thousand-seven-hundred pounds per square inch. Wholly unnecessary for life in a modern Equestrian setting, but absolutely vital in the vast and untamed wilds of the Dragonlands.

Orzel's smile stretched virtually from ear to ear, just one example of the millions of years of evolution that'd rendered dragonkind into the world's most foremost predators... By the Gods, it was magnificent. How could Orzel think herself ugly? Between her sheer physicality and raw arcane power, Spike just didn't understand how she could see herself as anything but the epitome of draconic beauty... He supposed, if he was going by the metrics of Equestria, she might be a tad... Off... But, Spike was past looking at that sort of thing now.

If that was how she saw herself, then the young man had just acquired a new mission in life. It would have to wait, unfortunately, as now was neither the time nor the place. So he settled for sitting at her side, basking in that radiant grin of carnivorous majesty for as long as she allowed it to shine.

"Thisss isss... I can-not be-jin..." She began in Equestrian, only to stop and swap to her native Szafirian, which Spike was actually getting pretty good at by now. "I cannot begin to thank you enough! This is too much, Mister Gaze! Do you have any idea how much this is worth?!" She asked rhetorically, looking at the book with her eyes glowing brighter than before. "It... It should be in a museum..." The struggle against her desire to hoard the book was written across her face, but no one hear would stop her. "Where...? Where did you find it?" Piercing smiled amicably, crossing his arms across his chest whilst Twilight and Orzel continued to fawn over the book.

"Let's just say I know a guy that knew the author..." Piercing stated coolly in Equestrian, only to immediately go pale and wave his hands dismissively. "I mean... I know a... A descendant of a guy that knew the author. Yeah, that's totally what I meant!" Spike got the feeling that wasn't anything at all what the man meant, but he didn't care to go pulling on that thread at present. It was Hearth's Warming Eve, after all, hardly a good time to deal with... Whatever that was. "Books are meant to be read, Orzel, not gawked at inside some glass case by stuffy rich people. It does need to be handled delicately, and I know I can trust you to treat it with the care it deserves." The man added sincerely, returning to his earlier relaxed state.

From there Orzel received several other packages from her cousins... Blueblood, having departed early, would have his gift to Orzel opened in absentia. His was the package shaped like a shipping crate, because it was, indeed, a wooden shipping crate. It contained an entire series entitled 'Der Kaiser Ist Tot!: An Unabridged Examination of the Collapse of the Thestral Imperium and its Lingering Effects on Modern Geo-Politics: Volumes I to XXXV'... All of which were nearly six inches thick, which accounted for the need to deliver it in such a massive container. The lengthy title spelled out fairly clearly what one might expect to find in its volumes.

Cadence continued with the book trend, giving Orzel something called 'The Complete Encyclopedia Enchantica: Volumes I to XV'. Also delivered in a box with numerous volumes, thought not nearly as extensive as Blueblood's gift. Encyclopedia contained just about every enchantment known to the modern Enchanting school of magic. Wards, runes, permanent spells, golem maintenance, levitation, even scroll creation. With the exceptions of some highly obscure and possibly apocryphal enchantments, it was all there...

Spike had no doubt that all fifty books would be completely read and re-read before the week was through, especially given Orzel's recently developed eyes. She was almost quite literally drooling over the collection of leather, paper, and ink, as if eying some great all-she-could-eat buffet of assorted meats... With a great deal of effort, the Princess restored her calmer appearance. She looked over at Spike once again, this time with an expression he couldn't quite discern. Not vulnerability, but... Maybe she was seeking reassurance? The young man smiled warmly at her, causing the Princess's cheeks to once again flush deeply.

Luna quietly cleared her throat, and after a minor preamble about the short notice of her departure hampering things, presented Orzel with an envelope. Within she found what looked to be a legal document of some sort, which Spike actually recognized as he leaned over to get a better look. Her Diploma, or the home school equivalent of it at any rate... The young man didn't really remember what it was called, he'd only gotten his recently, not that it seemed to matter much. The fire department hadn't asked to see it, nor had the Navy recruiter for that matter.

Evidently Orzel wouldn't have had time to actually take the test, but had by far learned enough to ace it, so Luna had petitioned the EEA for special dispensation. According to the Princess, they'd given up resisting the request when a pallet, a pallet, of diligently filled out notebooks, some of which were more in depth than actual school textbooks, was presented as evidence that Orzel had not only understood the material, but absorbed it as well While it hadn't really been a big deal for Spike, just something he'd needed because Twilight said he had to get one, the diploma certainly meant a lot to Orzel.

With every minute that passed, the seeming inadequacy of what he'd brought for Orzel only mounted... It got even worse when Celestia presented Orzel with a pageant necklace, much like those she and Luna wore as part of their regalia. This one was made of wolfram-arcanium alloy, studded with absolutely gigantic emeralds, and accented by a large central pendant that bore a bronze dragon insignia, which matched the Princess's Royal insignia perfectly... Spike had become quite good at identifying it, as every letter he received from Orzel was sealed with that same marking.

In return for these gifts, Orzel gave each of them something she'd either made herself or picked up in what little spare time she had... Given how much Orzel and Spike talked, he knew that amount of time was vanishingly small. For Celestia, the compiled works of the famous tenor 'Soppressata Alfredo', including several obscure recordings, previously unreleased to the public.

For her Mother, Orzel produced from a small satin bag what at first looked to be a simple fork... Which, it turned out, had been enchanted... Orzel explained how the enchantment worked, and how greatly improved the end product was compared to her first foray into the field of enchanting.

"Never had I felt I could be more than what I was..." Orzel explained solemnly in Szafirian, with Spike opting to translate for the benefit of those that didn't speak it. "You pushed me to try, even when I felt I could only fail. While I owe a great deal of who I am to my birth parents, everything I am now, everything good I have accomplished here in Equestria, I owe to you, Mother..." She handed the fork and its accompanying bag to Luna, her voice cracking when next she spoke. "You saved me..."

That obviously meant a lot to Luna, who accepted the gift gratefully, then, with slightly teary eyes, she proceeded to hug her daughter as tightly as was conceivably possible. It was nice to see the woman that could potentially banish Spike to another celestial body had an emotion, aside from cold judgment and blatant suspicion. It also gave the young man a deeper insight into why she might've been so hostile towards him and Orzel spending so much time together... Spike wasn't sure how he'd address it at present, but at least he knew it was based in care for Orzel, and not an underlying dislike of him as a person...

Cadence received gift certificate to some spa, and Blueblood... Well, he wasn't there to open it, so it remained a mystery. Gradually the rest of the group received their presents, all the while Spike eyed the brown paper package placed beneath the tree. The gifts weren't limited to the Princesses or the royal family either, indeed it seemed Celestia had really gone all out. She'd given Twilight what at first seemed to be a playing card, but the happy squealing and utterances of gratitude indicated it was anything but. Upon closer inspection, Spike realized it was a golden card, engraved with the sigil of the Royal Canterlot Archives, bearing Twilight's name... A Golden Scholar's Pass, granting Twilight unlimited access to the RCA. There could be no more than fifty of such active cards in the world, each of which could only be issued by Mandate of the Crown, and now Twilight held one such card.

In Spike's case, the Princess managed to somehow get her hands on a genuine air brush kit from 'Mini-Tech', just about the most highly sought after tool on the model making market... It wasn't a used model either, as it was still sealed in its original box, which made the kit all the more rare. Finding anything from Mini-Tech anymore was virtually impossible, as they'd gone out of business years ago. All the fine craftsmanship made for expensive prices, which severely limited the number of people who could afford their product to an unsustainable niche market. Spike wasn't sure what he should say aside from 'Thank you!', and he was honestly wondering if he should even open the box to begin with... It'd ruin the value. Then again, he suspected Celestia hadn't purchased it for him to let sit on a shelf...

While the young man was certainly grateful for what the Princess gotten him, it only twisted the knife further regarding his own purchase. By now he was certain that his gift to Orzel would end up being the low point of the evening... It didn't help that he and Orzel were the last ones with gifts to give one another. As Orzel was a Princess, she opted to use her Princessly powers to go first, not that Spike would've argued the point. He wasn't sure what it was she intended to give him, as a Princess the possibilities at her disposal were virtually limitless. The girl searched around the bottom of the tree, then grabbed a modestly sized package, wrapped in simple red paper, with a white envelope taped to its side. Examining it to ensure it was indeed the correct box, Orzel offered it to Spike.

Spike decided to open the envelope first, and what he found within surprised him. Two-Hundred Bits in paper currency, as well as a circular embroidered patch. The latter most item obviously belonged on a fire fighter's uniform judging by the brilliant florian cross. What stuck out to Spike was the bronze dragon insignia situated in the central roundel, which hovered above a silver shield emblazoned with the letters 'CDA'. The dragon drew inspiration from Orzel's personal emblem, but held clenched a sword in one talon and a fire axe in the other. The text beneath the insignia was the motto of the FDPV, 'Fire Defense is Civil Defense', while a ring of Szafirian runes ran around its entire circumference.

"It is a new enchantment I have been working on." Orzel explained to him in Draconic, picking up the patch and holding it in her palm. "Here, blow flames on it." Spike looked at the Princess skeptically, then exhaled a small burst of green fire. He feared the patch would be incinerated, as they were quite intense, but... When the flames died down, he was stunned to see the patch right where it'd been before, perfectly untouched. "There are other features as well. For example, if you become trapped or are knocked unconscious, the patch will emit a distinct and loud noise." The girl explained seriously. "Your brigade commander consented to testing these for me in the field, and while I have made all of them by hand to ensure no failures, this one I put particular effort into." Spike took the patch back as the others looked on with fascination. "I do not want anything to happen to you, especially after... Well, you know." She said a bit more quietly. "The money is merely the remainder of the budget I allotted myself for the more substantial aspect of your gift. Please, spend it as you please."

"Thank you, my Lady..." Spike responded genuinely, inwardly smiling to himself as the Princess's cheeks blushed a more vibrant red than was typical. He was truly touched by the gift, as he knew that Orzel was probably understating the amount of effort she'd given. That just left the package, which Spike found to be surprisingly heavy. Removing the paper, he found himself looking at a highly polished wooden box, the lid of which bore Orzel's emblem in polished raised bronze. To open the box he first had to undo a small latch, and what awaited him inside was... Surprising.

It contained five humanoid contraptions, slightly larger than one might expect of a typical 1:6 Scale action figure or wooden artist's model. They were made entirely from metal, displaying a level of articulation unmatched by any conventionally available toy. Each bore two dull green gemstone eyes, with their chests being numbered from '1' to '5' in ascending order. Spike's brow furrowed as he attempted figure out precisely what they were. Reading his evident confusion, the Princess cleared her throat.

"Those are constructs I designed to aid you at the library, or just in general around the house." Orzel explained, continuing in draconic. "They will respond to your commands, be they verbal or mental. I have already imbued them with a basic understanding of the standard library organization system, so they can even operate autonomously when you are not present to directly influence them." She added further as Spike carefully removed one of the surprisingly heavy contrivances from the box. "I used a wolfram-arcanium alloy for their torsos, the rest of their bodies are comprised of stainless steel, to minimize the risk failure on account of oxidation. Their joints will require occasional lubrication... Actually, all the information you need is in the booklet." Spike looked back in the box, spotting the aforementioned booklet at the bottom.

"I don't know what to say..." Spike responded with a genuine smile, placing the figurine back in the box and closing the lid. "I mean, thank you, obviously, just..." He set the box on the floor and looked again at the patch. "You put a lot of effort into both of these, and when I look at what I got you, well..." He shrugged, his smile fading slightly.

Orzel responded by putting her hand on his shoulder. Though it was obvious she wanted to do something more, the fact that they remained in mixed company stayed her hand... Still, just knowing that she wanted to comfort him was enough, especially given the recent deepening of their relationship. With that in mind, he once again translated what Orzel's gift was for those that didn't speak draconic. Twilight's grasp of the language was decent, and he noted that she'd been eying the box of 'Mechassistants' with an envy not unlike that of a dragon, ever since Orzel first explained what they were... Of course, as his Mom, she'd be free to use them as well.

"I still wish I had something as stunning to give you in return." The young man sighed faintly, picking up the plain paper package and holding it in his laps for a few moments. "It's just a little something I saw in a catalog. I know you're interested in learning about new stuff, and since you're really into science fiction, I figured you might get a kick out of it. Something to do in your off time, y'know? I hope you like it." Bracing himself for the worst, he handed the package to the Princess.

She opened it with eminent care, undoing the knot, peeling away the paper to reveal... A checkered black and white box, on the side of which was emblazoned a stylized rocket, which was bright orange in color... It was obvious from the packaging, and the slogan 'Light-Years of fun!', that the kit intended for children to put together with their parents. Orzel was probably at that very moment wondering what might posses someone to say 'light-years' as a measurement of time rather than one of distance, but Spike understood by now that sometimes Orzel didn't realize most people weren't as well read as she was. Spike had searched for a more advanced or adult oriented version, but this was the only 'rocket kit' he'd actually been able to find that was available to the general public.

Orzel stared at the box in silence, and Spike could've sworn he saw that far away look in her eyes. This time, however, it wasn't as if she'd 'checked out'. Her eyes glistened with a renewed intensity, and in an instant Spike realized this look wasn't one of distance, it was one of... Inspiration. He'd seen it dozens of times with Twilight, just as all the pieces of a puzzle began to fall into place for some challenging scholastic endeavor, or if she got a new idea for some outlandish experiment...

Somewhere, deep inside that beautiful brain of hers, the Princess's mind had opened a doorway to a world of possibilities hitherto unrealized before. What Spike wouldn't have given to be able to read her thoughts in that moment, to see the potential she saw in that simple children's toy. It was sure to be the subject of days and days of uninterrupted scribbling, note taking, calculating, and re-calculating. Reams of paper would be sacrificed at the altar of scientific or arcane curiosity, not to mention the chalk, ink, and other stationary also destined for the chopping block. Spike knew, in no uncertain terms, that Orzel would love every moment of it... Every second spent in the pursuit of discovery, every experiment, failed or successful, was sure to bring her to the unparalleled heights of joy. With that realization on his part, Spike suddenly didn't feel so bad about the nature of his gift.

"You are correct, Spike... While rocketry is a topic with which I have little experience, I do find that I am intrigued by the prospect." Orzel stated somewhat distantly, before abruptly shaking herself out of the stupor of realization and setting the box beside her other gifts. "It is rare that I encounter a new field of study for which I can immediately see potential, especially in my line of work. This... This is one of those fields. I believe it will be a mentally stimulating endeavor." Those among the group that couldn't speak Draconic just stared at her. "Thisss isss very thoughtful, SSSpike... Thank you, am much eager to be axe-spear-mint-ink with thisss."

She turned in her seat and pulled the boy into a tight hug, angling herself so as to conceal the kiss she hurriedly placed on his cheek. Spike did his best not to react, still his cheeks betrayed his bashfulness. Luna's glare remained at its current level of intensity, which informed him that Orzel's attempt to conceal the act had likely succeeded. From that point on, the writing was all but on the wall. The evening had reached its conclusion, the partygoers had run out of steam. Over the course of a few short minutes, one after another, the scant remnant attendees of the Hearth's Warming Ball bid their final farewells.

There was much that Spike wanted to Orzel, and he could see she had much on her mind as well, but... Neither of them dared to do so in front of others. The best he could hope for was one final hug, one final goodbye, both of which lasted far too briefly. With that, he was forced to leave Canterlot Castle, casting one final look over his shoulder at the Princess, his Princess... Knowing that this would be the last time he saw her for the foreseeable future. He wanted to burn that image into his mind, to remember the night where it all had changed, and to hope for what the future might hold whenever Orzel returned to him. All of this he was forced to remain silent over...

"Spike, are you crying?" Twilight asked as the two of them passed through the falling snow that blanketed the Castle courtyard in a field of white. Spike briefly dabbed at his cheeks, then pursed his lips and sighed through his nose.

"No, Mom..." Spike explained quickly. "Snow just melts extra fast on me, higher body temperature and all that." Twilight looked at him skeptically, at this point they were approaching a waiting sedan that would take them to the train station.

"You know, it's okay to cry when a friend goes away, right?" She asked a little more seriously, reaching over and rubbing his back. "I'm gonna miss her too, but it's not like you two can't write each other! Pen pals are still pals." Spike just nodded quietly, tucking his hands into the pockets of his wool winter jacket. The night had been a bit of a roller coaster, emotionally speaking, but Spike had weathered it about as well as he thought he might. At least that night he would go to bed without the regret of having kept his mouth shut hanging over him. Even if things didn't go exactly as planned, he could still hold his head high and say that finally, on this topic at least, he'd stopped spinning his wheels...

Chapter 20

There was once a time when Orzel had reveled in the joys of sleep, as it provided her the only respite from the day to day doldrum and terror inherent to being labeled 'defective'... She would curl up on her bed and try to preserve as much warmth as she could with her old threadbare blanket, and for her troubles find herself carried off to the realms of adventure and wonder. Sometimes she was an active dreamer, able to mold the experiences to her liking as she pleased, while other times she was merely along for the ride. They could be bizarre, strange, and even frightening, but every morning she would awaken with the sad realization that the adventure was over. That was no longer the case...

For the entirety of her time in Equestria, Orzel's beloved respite in the land of dreams had was almost exclusively now the purview of nightmares. Sometimes the details changed, sometimes she would relive other traumatic events in her life, but by and large they all tended to follow one common theme, all contributing to her desire to never so much as look at a bed again. Each night she would find herself plunged into the a swirling miasma of blackness and shadows, illuminated by faintly glowing embers and distant structures silhouetted by a roiling inferno.

The details of buildings were distorted to a ghastly degree, bodies lay eviscerated and torn apart on all sides, and the blood... So much blood. At first it petrified her, but lately the sight of it... It would cause the Princess's pulse would quicken, her vision would narrow, and she would feel a pain of hunger so intense that at times it was enough to wake her.

She could see only one benefit to the nightmares, and that was that in her dreams it was far easier to confront the truth... She was a carnivore, a predator, with a nigh insatiable hunger for meat... Every day she was surrounded by prey, but it was prey that she'd sworn to protect. Lately her requests to have her steaks prepared 'Rare', and her use of a knife and fork for that matter. were for the benefit of humoring Mother. Orzel's instincts told her to just rip them apart bloody and raw. It was just her natural state, she wouldn't deny that, and it was only through her strict mental discipline that she kept from clearing out the Castle's meat locker on a nightly basis...

Orzel considered those instances, where the hunger fostered by her nightmares was enough to wake her, to be a mercy. On the nights where she remained asleep, the faces of the dead would linger like phantoms, their sole purpose for existing seeming to be the constant torture of the Princess with her deepest fears. Screams of terror, many of them her own, would echo from all around her. There were times when it was as if the wailing cries were confined to her head, and no amount of trying to cover her ears would so much as muffle the chronic demented howls of hungry beasts that accompanied the violent death of an entire city.

Those howls in and of themselves added a new dimension to the horror, because as much as Orzel hated them for what they'd done, she... Understood them... The dreams almost always ended in the same grisly fashion, with her stood atop the steps of the Vindictan Temple, watching her father's ship as it was pulled beneath the waves, the horde of foul creatures just moments from barreling down on top of her, if she was lucky... Sometimes they would come to a halt and stare at her, as if petrified... Her eyes would narrow, her tongue would slather, and she would tear into them with just as much brutality and ferocity as they'd showed her city...

Their howls soon turned to shrieks of terror, the beasts themselves becoming human, and it was Orzel that they were fleeing from. Typically she would be roused from her fitful slumber at that point, and in those fleeting moments between sleep and wakefulness, Orzel could see with supreme clarity just how much she was changing. It wasn't just the physical changes, it was the mental ones, and what was worse was that there was nothing that she could to stop it, even if she wanted to... The real kicker was that she didn't want to, she liked the feeling of power, the rush of adrenaline, the exhilaration... She wanted to do so much more... To indulge the predatory instincts, to stalk an animal through the woods, to claim its life and gorge herself, until all that remained were gnarled fleshless bones.

The worst part was that Orzel could scarcely remember those feelings or the exact events when she fully returned to the waking world... She only knew that every morning she awoke soaked in sweat, terrified, heart racing in her ears, and she would pray to Lexicos that she never fall asleep again... So Orzel would busy herself with work, spend hours listening to the radio, work on her models, pray frantically for at least one night's reprieve, anything to stay awake. As a dragon, Orzel didn't need much sleep, just a couple hours was enough for her to function adequately... That didn't mean she didn't get tired, of course, and every night it was a fight to keep her eyes open until at least four o'clock in the morning. Then she'd endure two hours of torturous sleep and awaken to face another day of stress, anxiety, and work, which would be capped by another bout of self-imposed insomnia, the cycle continuing ad infinitum.

Last night... Hearth's Warming Eve... Had proved different. It seemed that for her prayers had been answered, and not by the machinations or intervention of her Mother either... The burning city failed to materialize, neither did the beasts, the skeletons, the laughing faces, the blood... The savory, salty, tasty blood... All was silent, save the calming sound of crashing waves. The aroma of salt water replaced the whiff of charred timbers, and she felt the sensation of gentle rolling that could only come about upon the sea.

Orzel stood upon the quarterdeck of Piorun, the woman in the midnight black hood alongside her on one side, and her 'Dragon Self' in white on the other. As always, neither woman ever spoke, not a single word, even when she tried to address them directly... Instead, both would point off into the West, somehow she knew it was West, at the distant looming shape of the Monolith. Then, just as Orzel was trying to formulate a response, the two figures faded from view. The girl found herself completely alone, standing at the wheel of her Father's ship. The waves roiled, the wind howled its fury, and there she was, struggling at the conn, fighting the storm.

"Some Captains think it safer to face the storm in the harbor, but I have found that a ship is just as likely be broken up on the shore as you are by the waves..." Her Father's voice drew her attention to the left, a deep baritone that rolled like thunder, with all the tenderness of old shoe leather.

There he stood in his black leather great coat and crushed peaked cap, his old gray uniform sodden with the spray of the sea. She'd never seen his face so clearly, so crisply, but she could've sworn he looked... Older than she remembered. The Monolith still loomed in the distance, but the sky ahead grew dark with furious clouds. The waves tossed the ship about like a child's bath toy, and it was only then that the big man took the wheel from her.

"I know the weather is rough, child, but now is no time for fear. There is no changing where we are, only how we handle our ship." The girl hadn't even realized she was trembling, stepping back from the wheel, she watched her Father captain the ship through the swells. "We cannot run, nor can we fight, and we sure as damnation cannot bargain our way out of this! Nothing for it but to batten the hatches and face Maritima's wrath on her terms!" Maritima, the Szafirian Goddess of the Ocean, as temperamental as she was powerful... Father commenced to laughing, a sound Orzel rarely heard from the man, before shaking his fist at the gathering storm. "Come on, you beautiful sea-mother! Give us a show!"

Orzel opened her mouth to scream at him, to ask if he'd lost possession of his faculties. Insulting Maritima was a good way for a sailor to get him or herself sailor killed, so actively antagonizing her had to be downright suicidal! The words never came, however, as the Princess head abruptly smacked into something very hard and very cold. In an instant her father and his ship were gone, and the oppressive tendrils of sleep bade her a swift and unanticipated farewell. Again, for a few moments, she saw what was happening to her... What she felt... What she wanted... And just like that, it was gone.

Orzel first opened her eyes to the deep droning sound of a steam whistle, and was greeted by a blurry compartment of navy blues and occasional accents of silver. Stretching her arms above her head, the young Princess groaned in exertion and sat up straighter on the couch. Feeling blindly about a nearby table, she squinted as she struggled to make sense of her surroundings. Another tri-toned whistle shrieked through the car, accompanied by a steadily repeating rhythmic 'chuff-chug-chuff-chug', accented by several loud clanging bells. The room jostled ever so slightly, adding a distinct 'clickity-clack-clickity-clack' to the racket. As her faculties more fully took hold, it was obvious to her where she was...

"What time is it...?" Orzel blearily groaned in Draconic, willing magic into her words and watching the blurry emerald wisps leave her lips. Holding her palm open, she felt the familiar tortoiseshell frames levitate daintily within her grasp. Judging by the dim gray light, it was either morning or sunset. Fumbling with the spectacles, she clumsily set them upon her nose. Just like that, her surroundings came into focus. Easily she recognized it as one of the numerous cars of Mother's train, the 'Family Car' as it had come to be known. Seated across from her, smiling benignly, likely in response to her daughter's apparently blissful slumber, was her Mother...

"Nearly eight in the morning." Luna responded evenly, her eyes turning to a small black ball of fur currently resting in the breast pocket of Orzel's bomber jacket. Midnight had fallen asleep there some time after the trip from the Castle to the train station, and apparently had yet to move. Absently, Orzel rested a hand on her familiar's warm fur, her other moving to brush a few bothersome strands of hair out of her eyes. "I admit I had hoped you would be afforded more time to sleep, but I suspect our arrival is close at hand..."

Orzel cast a brief look out the window at the dimly lit sky, the thick dark clouds overhead diffusing the coming dawn, making all appear brighter than it actually was. The hilly landscape was covered in what Orzel knew was dreadfully frigid snow, broken up by the faint glowing lights of a few small sleepy villages at the foot of some distant mountains. Their lofty peaks were hidden from view by the clouds overhead, and each was cloaked in great snow covered forests of pines and conifers. The girl stared at them in a mixture of wonderment and astonishment, not only at their height, but their sheer number. The Canterhorn stood more or less alone when compared to the other heights of its range, and Orzel could scarcely believe that so much soil and stone could be stacked so high... Even her model of Equestria didn't do those distant peaks justice.

"You are certain I cannot convince you to reconsider...?" Orzel asked with just the faintest fleeting hope, but Luna only shook her head. The girl hadn't expected her Mother to take her final plea seriously, but what more was there for Orzel to do?

She realized that for Luna to handle whatever the looming crisis was, Orzel would need to be 'safe'... She just wished it hadn't come about just as she was finally getting her life back together, especially not after last night... The girl could still hardly believe that Spike, handsome, heroic, smart Spike, had any interest in her beyond friendship. Much as she wanted it to be, that aspect of her departure wasn't important right now. This was potentially her last chance to converse with Mother face to face, her last chance to learn in total secrecy what it was that so damned urgent she couldn't be allowed to stay in her own home.

"Will you still not tell me now why I must go? What threat I must design these weapons to defend against?" Orzel asked seriously, adjusting her headscarf and brushing the rest of her hair back into its snood. Rolling her shoulders, she attempted to shake out some of the stiffness that'd settled in as a result of her sleeping with her head against the frigid window pain. Mother stared at her, unsure as to how best respond. "We are alone, Mother, on a train bound through the middle of nowhere... There is no one but Midnight to overhear us now..." Luna looked like she was about to dismiss that request, then stopped, her features darkening.

"Do you know of Changelings?" Luna asked, and Orzel briefly paused, her mind running through the vast vault of collected knowledge that was her brain. There were legends and folktales referring to 'Changelings', strange mischievous creatures that 'stole' emotion... Other than that, however, Orzel's knowledge was limited. She had little interest in fictitious creatures, not when there were so many real threats that needed to be studied. Orzel nodded tentatively, but it was clear she was still searching for more than that. "They are more than they are made out to be... They are real." All her searching for forgotten tidbits halted at Mother's admission, and Orzel's eyes focused solely on the woman across from her. "They change shapes, take the form of inanimate objects, animals, even family members... The intent is to infiltrate a family unit and siphon positive emotion, typically love." A lot of things suddenly made a lot more sense then...

"So that is why you are sending me away..." Orzel deduced, it wasn't a question, though Luna simply nodded in confirmation. "Do you fear me to be one of these 'infiltrators'?" The quiet of the room was broken by Luna's sudden and genuine laugh, but Orzel couldn't see the humor in her words. Luna's laughter rapidly trailed off, and in a matter of moments her typical serious expression returned.

"The Changelings would have a very difficult time replacing you..." Luna stated in Szafirian, folding her arms across her chest, and Orzel saw fairly well what she meant. There were few people in Equestria that could speak Szafirian as well as Luna, and Orzel was the only 'Native Speaker'. Luna would only need to ask an infiltrator what time it was in the difficult to master dialect to reveal their falsehood. "However, I do not put it past them to try." With her features becoming more serious, her Mother continued in Szafirian, which Orzel was grateful for... "That is why I must send you away, Orzel. Somewhere they do not know, somewhere beyond the potential for their reach... Even if they just impersonated a guard, they could attempt to do you harm, or take you hostage..." Orzel nodded quietly, seeing the pain that speaking about the subject brought to her Mother's eyes, but even this didn't seem like the whole truth. "I admit, there is a more personal reason this was kept from you..."

"What personal reason would I have to fear these creatures?" Orzel responded bitterly, almost offended, but Luna still seemed uneasy. The woman finally seemed to gather her words after a few moments of uneasy silence, still she needed to work her jaw before speaking.

"The Nocturne Agency performed an autopsy on the creatures that followed you here, on the night of your arrival..." Luna began hesitantly, and Orzel felt as if a ghostly hand had somehow wormed its way in to her chest to clutch her beating heart. "They were changelings... Far different from those of this world, but changelings all the same. I feared that telling you of that fact would provoke you to... Rash action."

Orzel stared at her Mother, blinking silently as the cauldron of long buried terror boiled into life once more. The beasts that had tormented her nightmares, which she'd thought confined to that distant 'other world', not only had a name... But they existed in this world as well. That horrific fact paled in comparison to the revelation that they, these 'Changelings', were the latest threat to menace her new home... It felt as if the two filthy beasts that had chased her across the gulf of reality were just the prelude, and even as she spoke, an even large force was gathering... A force that was intent on taking all that she held dear, all that she'd built for herself, all that she'd worked for... Her nation, her subjects, her family, Spike... The people she loved. Those beasts, those... Animals! As an aspiring scientist, alchemy was just one of her many disciplines, and so the girl was briefly aware that the cauldron of terror was transforming from one state to another...

Orzel wasn't the same frightened orphan, chased to this world by beasts she could never hope to face in battle. Her ordeal had served as the crucible in which her very essence had been melted down, and Luna had cast that essence into a new, stronger form... Both in mind and body. She was smarter, more self assured, in better control of her fear, more than she ever could have been in her Old World. If it came down to it, as terrified as she might be, Orzel had no doubt she could rule Equestria if needed. No... She wasn't as weak anymore. She was strong... She was a a dragon! An apex predator! That was when the miasma of fear and anxiety suddenly reached a critical boiling point, and all the terror and grief she'd endured finally latched onto the beasts' very name.

A feeling unlike anything she had felt since the day of her first Elemental Transformation erupted from the cauldron, replacing her fear with a fury as vast and as deep as the ocean, and as frightfully terrible as an infuriated god. It was Changelings that had slaughtered her people and killed her family, it was Changelings that haunted her nightmares, and now they menaced her motherland... Again. They were likely conspiring at that very moment to take her books, her home, her freedom, her throne... Yet none of these compared to the thought of losing her Family... That couldn't... Wouldn't... Happen. She would not allow such a thing to happen to her ever again!

They would not menace her books, nor would they take her throne, and none would so much as lay a wretched finger on her family or her freedom! They were hers, and with more righteous conviction than a Vindictan Shield Maiden, Orzel would rip, rend, and tear asunder any that so much as dared threaten those things which she held so dear. They where hers, damn it! Her hoard would NOT be pillaged and plundered by mere prey! She would sooner leave their bones to bleach in the sun as she basked in its warmth with a protected hoard and a full belly. The apoplectic volcano of draconic instinct was set to blow its top, and its vengeance would be as brutal and as terrible as it was legendary! It demanded action! It demanded retribution! It demanded blood! She would lay down upon the Changelings a devastation of such biblical apocalyptic proportions that all of Equus would tremble to its core!

"Orzel...?" Luna's voice was distant, but she spoke with obvious concern. Orzel saw in the reflection of her glasses that her glowing emerald eyes were brighter than was typically healthy, and she couldn't have cared less. "Deep breaths, Orzel... Come back to me, dear... I know you are upset, but you must calm down."

Orzel was familiar with anger, aggression, and even hatred. They were emotions she'd discussed with Doctor Scratch numerous times, and on which she'd spent countless hours meditating to mitigate, but this... This sensation scorched through her veins like molten steel, and left her bones with a sensation on par with that of a mighty battleship... Powerful... Invulnerable... Dangerous. It was just as scintillating as ever, and Orzel found it inordinately difficult to turn away from the inviting lure of predatory instinct.

Midnight had hopped from the girl's pocket and sat rigidly on the floor, watching Orzel's restless hands tore jagged holes in the fabric of the couch... This was the second time that overpowering emotion had inadvertently caused her to damage this very couch. Seeing that took her back to that day in the Situation Room, to the fear and terror she'd seen in the eyes of her advisers, her subjects... With that memory, she somehow conjured the fortitude to rein in her fury, and in so doing came calmly back to the present.

Orzel's heart rumbled in her ears like the pounding drums of war, so favored by the Imperial Legions of her motherland. Prying her fingers loose from the tattered fabric, Orzel stared at her hands with a growing sense of dread, watching as they seemed to morph and bulge beyond her control. A groan of frustration left her throat as several strange bronze colored patches of scales manifested in her palm... Some of them were tinged an odd shade of green, like oxidizing copper, yet somehow more vibrant.

"Why is it not stopping?" She squeaked nervously, yet even as she stammered those words she could hear the voice was not wholly her own. Its two-toned nature had only progressed further, becoming gruff and smooth at the same time, reverberating through her chest with all the echoing grandeur of tolling temple bells. More of the scales appeared on her skin, or rather, they replaced her skin. First transforming her hands, which now boasted a set of intimidating claws, before spreading up the sleeves of her jacket and out of sight. "Mother... Help me! I am losing control!" Orzel looked at Luna, already the Princess was moving across the gap, her palms glowing faintly. Without hesitating, the woman placed her hand on Orzel's forehead and a familiar sort of tranquility washed over the girl, punctuated by that distant familiar lullaby...

"Be calmed..." Soothed Luna, withdrawing her hand, both watching as the scales receded into Orzel's skin. In their wake it seemed as if no change had occurred, save for the patches of scales that had been there previously. The claws failed to recede completely, as her nails had turned just as black as the fluted curled horns concealed beneath her scarf. "This is why I hesitated to inform you." She added with a concerned, almost chiding, tone. "I must admit, I had not expected you would undergo a transformation as potent as that..." Orzel blinked as Luna took a seat beside her, then looked at her hands again, a whirlwind of thoughts whipping up her worries. "Never fear, no harm no foul" Her Mother assured in that same understanding voice Orzel had come to know so well. "You are a Drake, Orzel... You must remember that such responses are entirely natural." She likely added the last part for Orzel's benefit.

"I was not in control..." Orzel grunted with a level of concern she didn't think herself capable of, her eyes settling on the once again damaged upholstery. "Mend yourself..." She ordered, but her focus was still too scattered for her magic to function properly. Growling in annoyance, she did her best to clear her thoughts and repeated the command. This time the magic flowed freely, brightly weaving among the torn fabric, until all sign of its recent damage disappeared from view. "I realize that it is 'natural', I had just thought I had a better handle on it than that." She shook her head, mind rapidly returning to its well ordered, if slightly frazzled, baseline... Almost instantly, a new fear presented itself, and her eyes darted to Luna. "Is this another reason I am being sent away...? Am I becoming a danger to others?" Her Mother shook her head, pulling Orzel into a tight hug and gently rubbing her back.

"No no no..." Luna emphatically declared, kissing the top of Orzel's head. "It is as I have told you countless times. For too long we have had too many of our eggs in one basket. That is simply a luxury we can no longer afford. As much as it pains me... Pains us both..." Orzel gulped quietly as Luna relinquished the hug, at which point Midnight hopped back from the floor and scurried her way onto Orzel's shoulder. "I am sorry to say that you must remain secluded until we have dealt with the Changeling menace... It is the only way to ensure that Equestria's government survives should the worst come to past." Orzel quietly ran her fingers through the fur of her mouse, its soft texture helping to set her nerves at ease. "Amberjack Island is already working on the creation of a Arcane Beacon, much as we have in the MSC..." She gestured towards the rear of the train. "In four months or so I shall be but a simple spell's casting away... Until then, I am afraid, you will have to endure..." Orzel considered the reassuring words quietly, her eyes drifting back to the floor.

Another guttural shrieking whistle pierced the silence from ahead, and the train's brakes squealed upon the slick steel rails. Orzel looked out the window, watching the rapidly passing scenery gradually slow. The bell was ringing again, occasionally overpowered by more long blasts from the locomotive's principle signaling device. The journey, it seemed, was about to reach its end. On and on the train slowed, until it was barely at a crawl... It was then that Orzel spotted a tall chain link fence, topped with coils of barbed wire that shed packets of snow as the train rumbled past. A large sign situated beside the barricade confirmed her suspicions. 'Unicorn Point Naval Air Station'... A small and otherwise uninteresting supply yard for ships of the Western Fleet, save that it also served as an airbase for the Navy's NBH-7 'Bluejacket', a sea plane employed for everything from maritime rescue to anti-submarine warfare.

"I must make myself presentable..." Luna declared softly, rising from the seat and flaring her magic to begin tidying up her tired features. "Remember the ruse we discussed, none can know that this is where you departed the train." Orzel nodded hesitantly, this was it... Her last moments on the soil of the Equestrian mainland. She only wished that she hadn't nearly undergone another transformation just there, as on top of being inundated with new fears and fury, she was now also incredibly hungry.

With great reluctance she removed her headscarf, then quietly tucked her Monolith pendant beneath the collar of her flight suit. Examining her hair, which by now was growing a few inches past her waist, Orzel carefully tucked it up into her snood as best she could manage. From within her flight suit pocket she pulled an aviator's hat, her long red neck scarf, and darkly tinted pilot's goggles. Donning these articles took but a few moments, and when combined together left Orzel looking very much like the nose gunner of one of the dozen or so Bluejackets bobbing up and down somewhere within the confines of Unicorn Point's harbor facilities. This was entirely by design, with Orzel's jacket even having been modified with patches that displayed appropriate Naval Aviation insignia and the rank of a Petty Officer Third Class.

The locomotive emitted one final thunderous whistle as the train came to a stop at a rather unassuming platform, situated among numerous other tracks, typically reserved for freight cars. A series of officers in white uniforms stood outside, the only deviation being their thick navy blue peacoats. Orzel shivered at the thought of walking through the freezing air in all but one of those thin wool garments, but she doubted she could get away with more than that. Her Mother examined her outfit and nodded in approval. At least one of them was happy... Thankfully the arrangement was temporary. Her Mother then pulled Orzel into a tight hug, tighter than Orzel had expected.

"This is where we must say goodbye..." Mother stated, unable to hide a brittleness that had crept into her voice. Orzel returned the hug just as tightly as she could, realizing that this could possibly be her last time in physical contact with her Mother for a great while. "I love you... So very much." Luna kissed Orzel's forehead again, and the girl could feel a few drops of moisture seep through the the cap. "We shall speak as soon as Amberjack completes the beacon." She couldn't keep from squeezing her daughter almost painfully, and Orzel returned it with just as much vigor.

"I will make you proud, Mother..." Orzel promised, managing to restrain her own glistening eyes. It broke her heart to let go of the woman that had helped her when she needed it most, that had loved and cared for her as if she were flesh and blood, but this was what she had steeled herself for. Suppressing her weakness, she forced herself to let go of Luna, taking a deep calming breath.

"You already have..." Luna stated gently, hesitantly starting towards the door. "You can do this, my darling... You are far stronger than you give yourself credit for." Orzel might've broken then and there, were this a few weeks before. Instead, she bit her lower lip, by now she hardly so much as felt the jabbing sensation of her fangs. "Try to see this positively... A return to coastal living may do you good." Her Mother offered with a weak smirk, watching as Orzel grabbed her satchel bag from a hook beside the exit. The young Princess slipped it over her shoulder, then pulled the fabric of the red scarf up to cover her lower face. Between that and the goggles, it was impossible to spot her defining features.

Mother at least had a point in her last statement, as Orzel actually did like the idea of returning to the water's edge. Under different circumstances she likely would've been excited, but not like this... Canterlot had become her home, just as much as Cesarski once was... This time, at least, that home was not in flames when she'd left. Whether it would remain that way, given what she'd learned of the threat that morning, remained to be seen. If the worst came to pass, if Canterlot burned in that same devastating way, laid low by that same wretched foe... Orzel resolved in that moment that she would avenge herself upon the Changelings without restraint.

It was perhaps not the 'Equestrian' thing to do, but as much as she had embraced Equestrian customs, there were some aspects of the Empire that still held true in her eyes. She'd learned more about the fate that had befallen the precursors of her civilization from Piercing Gaze, how they had been nearly exterminated before their journey to her Old World. Those traumatic wars had left their mark on Szafirian thinking, even countless generations later... For example, where most Equestrians could hardly imagine a situation where they would need to take a life, for Orzel... Well, it was a far less imposing moral quandary. She still wouldn't abide blind destruction for destruction's sake, but if something happened to her Aunts and Cousins in Canterlot, or anywhere for that matter, there would be no 'negotiated peace'... Not until the Changelings were brought to their knees, and only then would she offer one term... Complete and unconditional submission.

Sighing heavily through her nose, Orzel looked about the train car, then at her Mother one final time. Midnight had vanished from sight, the familiar undoubtedly making herself scarce on account of the need for secrecy. Grabbing a white canvas seabag from beside the the door, filled with several sets of clothes and other essentials, Orzel slung the sack over her shoulder. She would become 'Petty Officer Third Class I. Cognito', at least until she boarded the NBH bound for Amberjack... Taking one final deep breath, Orzel steeled herself to face the frigid outside air, and the coming departure from all she'd come to know that was soon to follow. Whistling sharply, she held her hand out to the side, deftly catching 'Fantom' as it flew to its creator. The broom had been disguised to conceal its arcane properties, taking on the aspect of a simple cleaning implement once more.

The crowd of waiting officers approached the train, and to any outside observer it would be impossible for them to spot the Princess or the young 'Petty Officer' descending from the rear platform. Luna made her way along the officers, shaking their hands while Orzel paused, shivering in the snow laden breeze. The air here smelled similar to that of the Neighport News Naval Shipyard, but was more strongly related to Cesarski. A bold bouquet of brackish brine, coupled with the wafts of rotten wooden piers and an almost foul fragrance of foetid fish. With her newly evolved tongue she could just as much taste the mixing scents as smell them, and that... That was a new experience, but not a wholly unpleasant one. Steam gushed from the locomotive where it had come to rest, obscuring the Naval Depot beyond, so Orzel made her way through the dense humid fog with haste.

The North Luna Ocean seemed distinctly darker in color than its Celestial counterpart in the East, a malevolent mass of churning waves and breaking white caps. Each wave had the apparent texture of a crumpled tarp, building and rolling with purpose up until they came to the breakers. The waves crashing against the battered white sands of Unicorn Point came with furious resolve, beating themselves against the immovable shore, as if driven to destroy that which would not submit.

The Naval facilities here were mostly comprised of a few large concrete slips, with several aged looking warships snugged up close to them, rising and lowering with the waves. Most were Altair-Class destroyers, but one or two looked like Albatross-Class replenishment ships. Fuel storage tanks dominated the southernmost portion of the Depot, while a trio of prefabricated metal warehouses dotted the north. A towering black and white checkered lighthouse stood defiantly at the very edge of land, its rotating beacon cutting a powerful swathe through the mist laden air. The most best protected portion of the harbor was reserved for a single floating seaplane, as the others had apparently been dragged up onto shore.

The gulls swooped and capered on the breeze, adding their shrieking voices to a chorus of memories that Orzel welcomed with an unexpected openness. She had to wonder why they hadn't migrated south for the winter... Perhaps there was more than ample food here? Those questions perished as the wave of nostalgia washed over her, and the girl inhaled the heady scent of the sea once more through her nose. It was a deep breath, taken with a surprising ease considering how cold the air was, but it was nonetheless enough. For a few moments Orzel allowed herself to pretend that she stood upon Cesarski's shores during winter, watching the distant horizon for the three masted form of Piorun...

A dull mournful moan arose in the distance, rolling across the waves and shattering the illusion. Orzel blinked a few tears out of her eyes, then looked for its source. Plowing purposefully through the waves on the horizon, smoke streaming from a singular stack at the apex of her central superstructure, Orzel laid eyes upon a familiar form... She'd never seen one in person, of course, but she'd made a model of this ship. The raised white letters upon her gray painted bow read 'CENTAUR', the word streaked by rivulets of dark red rust. She was a Cyclops-Class collier, converted to haul fuel oil, judging by the refueling booms secured along her hull.

A series of white flashes appeared on her starboard bridge wing... Dots and dashes, Morse Code, just one of the many things Orzel had familiarized herself with upon making the Navy 'her' patron branch. She couldn't signal worth a damn, yet, but she could at least understand the message. From her course and speed, it was obvious that the ship meant to dock at Unicorn Point, and the signal bore this out, further adding that the ship needed to replenish her fuel bunkers and discharge passengers. That wasn't all that surprising, as at present there were few suitable aircraft that could cross the ocean, save perhaps the NBH Bluejacket. Naval officers tended to take transport on replenishment ships like Centaur rather than planes, there were far better accommodations aboard.

"Hey, quit your gawking, Flyboy! Ain't you ever seen a tar hauler before!? Gods damn!" A rough voice boomed from behind her, and Orzel nearly rounded on the source with half a mind to tear into them. Thankfully, however, she managed to keep her temper from flaring. Of course, being referred to as a boy certainly didn't help matters. Granted, the heavy flight suit and other bulky accoutrements made most men and women look virtually the same.

Orzel turned towards the speaker, incensed that she'd been addressed so rudely, but stopped herself... She was supposed to be a sailor, not a Princess. The man that had spoken, like many sailors she'd seen, was a powerfully built fellow. As usual he towered above her, his weathered face screwed up in a snarl, his cheeks coated in a dark crop of coarse black beard hair. The red rank insignia sewn to his peacoat indicated this man was a Bosun, which explained his fiery temper... Bosuns were more or less identical in this world and her old one.

"Er... No, act-chew-olly." Orzel said sheepishly in Equestrian, adjusting her grip on the seabag over her shoulder. The Bosun's eyes briefly flared with anger, but then they took on a mirthful glean as he started laughing, placing a hand on his stomach. The girl realized she hadn't really taken steps to alter her voice, so in the eyes of the Bosun she must've sounded just as strange as she felt. Her eyes darted about her surroundings, then settled on two strange alterations to the venting steam of the locomotive at her back.

Grim and Fable emerged through the cloud, adorned in olive drab peacoats and wearing coyote brown knit caps, their faces impassive. They silently loomed behind the Bosun, taller even than he, glaring down at the chuckling man. Orzel smiled at them, not that she could see, then waved a dismissive hand. This gesture ended the man's laughter rather quickly, but Grim cleared his throat before he could lay into the girl-in-disguise.

"Mister Cognito." The Giant grunted forcefully, the rumbling of his voice catching the Bosun off guard. "You mustn't go running off like that." Orzel nodded with faux admonishment, looking at the ground. "I hope this boy hasn't inconvenienced you, Bosun. We're escorting him to his new station..." The Bosun at the behemoth in astonishment, obviously unused to looking up at someone, but nodded somewhat sheepishly. "Let's be along, Mister Cognito." He gestured towards the slip where the NBH Bluejacket was bobbing up and down.

"Aye, sssir..." Orzel responded in keeping with the ruse, following behind the two Lunar Marines as they led her away from the rather surprised fellow. It was a short walk, and as usual her guards didn't say much. Orzel was honestly surprised to admit it, but she was quite comfortable here, in spite of the frigid air. "Mister Grim?" The man looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "Will you and Mister Fable be flying to Amberjack Island with me?"

"Unfortunately not, your Highness." He rumbled quietly, tucking his hands into his pockets. It had to be minus twenty degrees, maybe thirty, and yet Orzel felt... Invigorated. Every breath of the salty air filled her with a warmth that was difficult to describe, not that she was complaining. They were less than twenty yards from the plane now, meanwhile Orzel could line handlers securing heavy ropes from Centaur to large mooring cleats while men and women descended a gangway. "The Bluejacket is a tad too small, we'll be traveling via teleportation magic once we return to the train." Grim explained, pausing briefly to examine his watch, identical to one worn by his brother. Both were brand new, Hearth's Warming gifts from Orzel. "We have little time to spare."

The trio descended a set of concrete steps to a wooden pier, the planks beneath creaking audibly with Orzel's every step. Part of her feared that she might be to heavy to fly in the NBH, but trusted that Director Orcus, or whomever it was that came up with this little exercise, would've accounted for the deceptive mass inherent to dragons.

The NBH itself was an interesting aircraft, far larger than Orzel had expected it to be from the photographs she'd seen, appearing as if a large sperm whale had produced offspring with an SB-71 Citadel. It was a gull wing design by necessity, with an peculiar twin-tail assembly. For power it possessed two massive radial engines, housed in nacelles which also served as the bomb bays, each engine sporting a large black tri-bladed propeller.

The aircraft's landing gear was likewise recessed into slots along its fuselage, so as not to interrupt its aquadynamic or aerodynamic profiles. Two square sections of the fuselage near tail had been cut away, each equipped with a .50 Caliber machine gun. It possessed a single tail, nose, and a dorsal machine gun turret, all of which were likewise equipped with two .50 Cals in twin mounts. A pair of tear drop shaped floats extended down from either wing, which could be raised or lowered by means of a hydraulic assembly. These were not to be confused with a quartet of detachable fuel tanks mounted along the underside of the wing, adding to the NBH's already considerable long range of three-thousand miles.

It was a short walk along another extension of the pier to the waiting aircraft, which was occupied by its seven man crew, already in the process of preparing the aircraft for flight. Orzel wished she could've just stood around and gawked at the aircraft for a few minutes, but there simply wasn't enough time...

"Are you our 'cargo' to Amberjack?" One of them, a First Lieutenant whose name badge identified him as Bowsprit, asked upon noticing the new arrivals. He and the others were dressed virtually identically to Orzel, save the red scarf that concealed her face. Orzel cast a nervous look at Grim and Fable, then nodded and adjusted her grip on the sea bag. "Not the first time we've made that trip, especially recently. We took a couple Captains, even an Admiral, but you're the only person I've seen arrive with their own escort." He said, jerking his head towards Grim and Fable. "What're we dealing with here?"

"VIP, total discretion required." Grim stated, producing a folded piece of paper from his jacket and handing it to the Lieutenant. "I cannot stress enough the secrecy with which you are to carry out your mission. No one, not even you, can know the true identity of who they are." The man stated seriously. "If you must address them, refer to them as Nemo. Don't ask them questions, don't make conversation, just get them to Amberjack as quickly and quietly as possible, by whatever means necessary." Bowsprit unfolded the paper, his eyes darting over its contents.

"From the desk of Director Orcus, Head of the Nocturne Agency. Upon receipt of these orders you are to proceed directly to..." The man read aloud, trailing off before he emitted an impressed whistle. This drew the attention of the other crew members, who paused in their work to look at who Orzel now deduced to be the pilot. "Alright then... Listen up boys, no chatter, no questions. I need you as professional as possible. We've got orders here to give our guest a wide berth." Bowsprit looked at Orzel as several other men extended a gangplank to the pier. "Hop aboard and we'll be off, just make sure you put on your headset. It's just about impossible to hear once these engines are running."

Orzel cast one final look at her two body guards, then, for the first time since she'd gotten there, stepped off of Equestrian soil. She descended the gangplank, her bag and broom in hand, and ducked into the belly of the NBH. It was strange, having the sea beneath her feet again, but... Not a welcome strangeness. Carefully she navigated the dull green painted interior, all the way up to the nose gunner's position, resting her belongings behind her. It didn't take long for the Princess to get comfortable, as thanks to her stature the space was more than enough for her to stretch her legs. The crew soon took their stations, making preparations for departure. As instructed by Lieutenant Bowsprit, the Princess donned a headset resting on a hook beside her head.

"Cast off!" Bowsprit's voice cut through. "Props are clear?" He asked, another man's voice responded in the affirmative. "Alright, throttles to start positions, fuel mix to auto-rich..." The aircraft was floating freely of the pier now, riding easy in the comparatively calm waves of its slip. "Roll Engine One!" Orzel heard a sputtering electronic whine over head, preceding several coughing mechanical gasps followed by a steady growing growl. "Roll Engine Two!" Another whine joined the first, followed more quickly by another rolling roar. "It's gonna be a miracle of we get airborne with all that chop out there." There was another affirmative response.

The aircraft slowly throttled forward, turning out of the slip and making its way through the harbor. Orzel was treated to a feast of the eyes, as it allowed her to see a good deal of the ships up close and in more detail than even her most carefully crafted model could hope to match. She wished it was a feast of the actual sort, as her grumbling stomach and the revelations made by Mother were still heavy in her mind. She would need to study the legends about Changelings in greater detail if she was to produce a weapon to effectively kill them, that would include getting a copy of the autopsy report from the Nocturne Agency. That was a battle Orzel was not looking forward to in the slightest, as they still had yet to release her Mother's remains, or any of her other personal effects aside from her family's ancestral sword...

Said sword currently resided, among other things, in Orzel's satchel. It certainly wasn't the most stylish accessory out there, but the canvas proved the most effective medium for her storage enchantments. She'd thought it might be a viable candidate for mass production, something that might allow combat medics to carry more life saving supplies for the same amount of weight. While there was some promise as technology progressed, the current automated embroidery tools in use throughout Equestria weren't nearly precise enough for an enchantment as complex as creating a stable pocket dimension.

It'd been essential to complete the satchel before her move to Amberjack, as it now contained a great number of books from Orzel's personal library, some of which were bound to contain vital information about the foes of Ancient Equestria. Given the amount of time she'd be out of direct contact with Canterlot, let alone the nightmare of trying to get any information out of the Nocturne Agency, these tomes very well represented her only metric by which to compare her work.

The girl quietly opened the satchel, staring down into the black aperture before reaching in and grabbing something. Pulling her hand free, she found it clutched around a book... 'A Bestiary of Equestria's Wilds, Circa 1633'. Published three-hundred-two years ago, at least if Orzel understood the Equestrian calender properly... It'd changed several times since the nation's founding, so historical dates could be a little fuzzy at times. Examining the book for a few moments revealed it was akin to a telephone directory in size and thickness, virtually a pamphlet when Orzel took her reading speed into account. Piercing Gaze had been correct on that front, her ability to read and comprehend books had drastically increased with the development of her eyes.

By now the aircraft was being jostled by larger waves, and the pilots were discussing what course would be best to take in the run up for take off. Orzel lifted her gaze from the book's cover, and it was then that she realized how close to departure she was. The coming dawn cast more light across the scene, diffused as it was with the thick overhead clouds. The ocean stretched out before her as far as she could see, a rolling, pitching, tempestuous horizon that wordlessly asked if the NBH dared to brave its icy surface. Orzel stood up in the gunner's bubble turret, turning her eyes to the final section of Unicorn Point's harbor facilities... She didn't see Mother there, but.... She didn't expect to.

The pilots seemed skeptical about the sea conditions, but were no less determined. Orzel soon heard the engines run up to a higher RPM, the aircraft surging forth in the frothing foam. The waves tossed the NBH about something fierce, but nonetheless continued on with dogged determination. The white caps gradually evened out as more distance was put between the aircraft as the shore, and Orzel could feel the aircraft's engines spin up to take off power. She quickly resumed her seat, holding the bestiary in her lap, watching the horizon with tense anticipation. She'd flown plenty of times by now, but that was on Fantom, never in an aeroplane... This was the first time she'd take off in one of the fixed wing aircraft she so ardently supported.

The Princess didn't know how fast they were going, but it was steadily increasing, even as they bulled through the sloppy sea. Still, she wasn't sure if they'd be able to reach take off speed... Placing her hand against the cold aluminum bulkhead beside her, the Princess bowed her head forward and began to mumble a quiet spell, beseeching Lexicos to allow her to temporarily imbue the aircraft with some of her power. To her relief, Orzel watched the tendrils of her magic flow from her mouth and vanish into the hull. The engines roared louder, the airspeed rapidly increasing, much to the surprise of the pilots.

"It's coming up..." Bowsprit declared over the intercom, the roughness of the sea against the bottom of the aircraft became notably less frequent, as if they were skipping across the wave tops rather than punching through them. "V1... Rotate!" There were a few moments where the aircraft seemed almost unnervingly quiet, even with he rumble of the engines. The sloshing of the waves below vanished, and Orzel was treated to a sensation she'd grown accustomed to on her broomstick. Like some great majestic cormorant, the NBH slowly, laboriously, slipped the surly spray of the sea and clawed its way skyward. "Positive rate of climb, retract the floats."

She would be remiss not to stop and marvel at yet another display of her Motherland's ingenuity and technological prowess. To take flight without using exclusively magical means was an exhilarating experience, and the sensation of wonder that overcame Orzel's concerns filled her with a new found respect for aeroplanes in general. Much as she loved Fantom, there was no denying the renewed desire to acquire for herself a pilot's license and an aircraft to call her own. While it was true that she'd given the engines a little boost for take off, the magic had stopped flowing now, and all that propelled the Bluejacket upwards was the thrust of its propellers and the air flowing over its wings...

Steadily the NBH's altitude increased, until it passed through the dark overcast and emerged into a world the likes of which Orzel had never seen before. In all her time flying, she'd never dared to go higher than the clouds... Not for fear on her part, but rather the protestations of Mother for potentially putting herself at greater risk. Had Orzel known the sights that awaited her at such lofty heights, she would have ignored Luna's protests and regularly cruised atop the nebulous fields of angelic white.

Below her was now a field of puffy tufts of alabaster vapor, an uneven sea that stretched onwards to the horizon, like thousands of gigantic balls of cotton. These were in turn tinged by striking hues of pink, orange, and red, courtesy of the sun rising in the east, behind the tail of the Bluejacket. Had she only one word to sum up that magisterial vista, it would be 'Divine'... If ever there was a visual argument for the existence of a higher power, be that Lexicos, Faust, or any other loving deity worshiped on Equus, it could be encapsulated in that awe inspiring beauty... A panorama that no master painter, nor photographer, nor composer, nor even the most descriptive author could ever hope to do justice in their respective mediums.

Orzel only wished that she could share that view with someone she cared about... Luna, Sokol, her Father... Spike... It was at the thought of him that Orzel's heart fluttered in her chest. How she wished she could see him one more time, free from the watchful eyes of Mother, or Grim and Fable. Just a few minutes him, to talk, to laugh... To just be near each other. He cared about her, and she about him, more than she could hope to put into words. What mattered to her most of all, more than his acceptance of her physical failings and the pitfalls that might arise from courting a Princess, was his kind heart and keenly aware mind.

It was so much easier for Orzel to relax in his presence, to allow her guard to slip, because she knew in her heart that Spike would never hurt her... Even knowing that she could take care of herself, Orzel knew that she was safe with him, that he would protect her just as ardently as she would protect him. He'd first become her best friend, and now... Something more. What that was, exactly, Orzel couldn't say for certain. It would probably be a long time before she got an answer to that question, in no small part due to the Changelings... That was what led her attention away from the beautiful morning unfolding before her eyes, back to the bestiary still resting in her lap.

Lifting her pilot's goggles to her forehead, Orzel adjusted her spectacles and leaned back in her seat as much as it would allow. Then she cracked open the book, briefly reading over the table of contents. Over the course of the next few minutes she swiftly and methodically turned through the book, page after page, never lingering on a page for more than a second. The words flowed through her mind, telling of numerous monsters and beasts from three hundred years past. Most were myth or legend, but some were very real, including the Changelings... As Orzel had expected, the book didn't possess much in the way of verifiable scientific information, but there were several stories of questionable authenticity that related to identifying a person as an infiltrator.

They could mimic objects, animal, and people with such accuracy that the scholars of the day had trouble discerning the difference between a real person and Changeling imposter's arcane signature. If a person suspected of being a Changeling was killed, or subjected to grievous bodily harm, they would be consumed by arcane fire... Leaving their clothes intact, but 'burning away their disguise'. Furthermore, if blood was drawn of the suspected imposter and it fluoresced brightly, they were most certainly a Changeling.

It was believed that they preferred environments with a very high ambient temperature, deserts, swamps, jungles... It didn't really matter, so long as it remained consistently warm. As far as Orzel could tell, other than glowing blood and the ability to shape shift, they didn't possess any other obvious traits beyond a normal person. They weren't immortal, nor were they inherently stronger in a physical capacity... Certainly nothing like the beasts that'd burned Cesarski to the ground. They could bleed, and most certainly die, just as easily as any other living thing... That meant her PM-72 design could work just as well against them, as would whatever else she came up with. Orzel had finished the bestiary within seven minutes of first opening the book, quickly stowing it back into her satchel.

The air was growing considerably colder with every minute that followed, enough so that she pulled on a heavy pair of fur lined leather flight gloves. The pilots and crew were still conversing over the intercom, though Lieutenant Bowsprit paused briefly to instruct Orzel to put on an oxygen mask, as they were now passing eight-thousand feet. The oxygen would become dangerously thin from that point on... The Princess of course complied, pulling her scarf down to ensure a good seal. Even with all that was happening it was hard not to be slightly excited, surely this had to be the highest a Princess had ever flown.

Eying a compass embedded in the gun mounted before her, she could see they were turning South West on a heading of two-three-zero. This would take them over the Western Land Bridge in a matter of hours, which Orzel was certainly curious to see. What most people thought of as the Western Unknown was actually just the land bridge, connecting the continent of Pastora to another unnamed continent, as undiscovered and dangerous as it was strange. It was there that a great many powerful villains had come from in the past, and that consistent connotation for powerful evil had led much of the known world to decide that they wanted nothing to do with the place.

Occasionally expeditions would be proposed, argued over, and eventually canceled for fear that they might bring something truly terrible back with them. Much as Orzel hated the idea of science being impeded by fear of the unknown, the bestiary she'd just read highlighted just how many dangerous things there were on Equus that even modern science couldn't account for. If she was lucky, if the cloud cover dissipated, she might be able to briefly catch a glimpse of that forbidden realm... She couldn't help but wonder if maybe that was where the Changelings were actually hiding, somewhere they knew the Equestrians would never dare to search for them. It's certainly where Orzel would go, if she needed to hide from the authorities.

For now there was little she could do but sit and wait, so Orzel pulled her portable enchanting tablet and equipment from her satchel and set them on a flat section of metal, installed as a table of sorts for the charts of a bombardier. As she only had access to a compass, and she wasn't allowed to ask for information from the flight crew, she opted to take a proactive approach to the problem. Removing the goggles on her forehead, she set them on the tablet and pondered how best to resolve the issue...

It wasn't going to be easy with so much vibration from the engines, but Orzel welcomed the challenge... She easily could've accomplished the work on the ground, but to do so at what by now had to be ten-thousand feet, with thick flight gloves and an unsteady work surface? Regardless of the outcome, surely no other Enchantress could claim to have done the same. Given that the flight to Amberjack Island was a good thirty hours, plus a need for the crew to land, rest, and refuel at the Navy's base on Median Atoll, the Princess had plenty of time to start over should her first attempt fail. In some way she kind of hoped it did, it'd only make the trip that much more interesting.

Worst came to worst, the Princess could start working on the model rocket Spike had gotten her, though that wouldn't be without its own trials. With all that'd been going on she'd not given it much thought, but the potential possessed in that little box was just the sort of inspiration she'd needed for another facet of her hopes to mitigate another threat presented by dragon raids. Airships often played a large role in the more devastating of the attacks, they could be countered by fighters, but fighters were slow to mobilize and took time to reach altitude. Spellcasters could also do the job, but that required them to be able to see the target first and foremost, difficult to do at long ranges, or at night.

Orzel already had something cooking up in her head to aid with the latter most of the problems, but that would take a considerable amount of enchanting and research. Rockets, however, could very well solve all those problems. They were fast, and comparatively small, making them difficult both to detect and to shoot down. Though... Technically rockets were only rockets because they lacked a guidance system, so... Perhaps missiles was the better terminology? As Orzel set to work on modifying her goggles, she found herself pondering all the limitations she'd need to overcome if ever she was to develop some sort of 'Ground to Air Missile'.

Firstly she'd need to choose a propellant... The missiles had to be launch capable at a moment's notice, but their launch vessel also had to be maneuverable enough to quickly deploy. Solid propellant seemed the logical choice, though there were few options on that front. Missiles, like auto-gyros and so many other things Orzel saw as 'the future', were woefully underdeveloped technologies. The most pressing issue of all, more so than propellant or even the weapon's actual payload, was the guidance system.

Equestria already had Arcane Detection And Target Acquisition, or ADATA for short, but it required large and often expensive framework of buildings, facilities, and constant maintenance. Of course, if the missiles were to be deployed against Dragon Raids, the infrastructure was already in place. The Army Air Corps had utilized almost all of its allotted budget for the past three years to construct dozens of ADATA Outposts all along its southern border, so locating the targets wasn't the issue...

The girl sighed briefly, adjusting her position in her seat. For a few moments her eyes lingered on her broom, still disguised as a normal cleaning implement. For a few moment she felt the oddest sense of Deja Vu, as if she'd encountered a similar problem before... Cautiously, the girl held her open palm out to the side, then whistled sharply. It was virtually unheard over the engines, but Fantom leapt right up from the floor and moved to her waiting palm. She stared at the broom, realization donning, then set it back on the floor. She held her hand out at a different location, then repeated her experiment. Sure enough, the broom leapt up and placed itself squarely in her palm.

"Fascinating..." Orzel mumbled to herself, examining the broom again and turning her attention back to the goggles on her workspace. She leaned the broom against the bulkhead, her heart racing faster as her thoughts were inundated with hundreds upon hundreds of different calculations and ideas. They came at speeds that Orzel wouldn't have been able to comprehend prior to the awakening of her draconic abilities, so terrifyingly beautiful in their innumerable scope.

There were numerous problems with her idea, but problems could be worked out... In theory, if she could somehow develop an 'Arcane Guidance System', she could build missiles to do more than take down airships... They could target naval vessels, maybe even factories or hardened fortifications? There was also the possibility that such a thing might not be used for destruction, but rather the betterment of science and the world at large. After all, little was understood about the upper atmosphere of Equus, weather balloons could only do so much. Why stop there? Why not...? Orzel paused, peering upwards at the ceiling of the aircraft. Why not the moon?

She couldn't begin work on such an audacious project now, not with so many variables. It'd require at least a blackboard to put down all the calculations, and even then she suspected months, if not years, of designing and re-designing a prototype, but it could work... So Orzel would keep her potential discovery to herself, for the time being, and turned her attention back to the far more achievable goal of modifying her goggles. She had so many ideas, and now that she would be living where she was working, much more time to actually explore them all. As much as she would miss Spike, Mother, and all those at home... Maybe... Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

To say that Celestia's day thus far had been spiritually taxing would be a gross understatement, but that was the nature of peace negotiations in general. Neither side had consented to hold talks in their native territory, each fearing an assassination plot by their rivals, so Celestia had convinced them that Canterlot Castle could serve as a true 'neutral ground'. Representatives of the Iron Bloods and the Griffon Imperial Government were seated within the expansive Western Conference Room, around a large wooden table. The air was cool, the chairs were comfortable, and the refreshments were guaranteed not to be laced with cyanide. Certainly not a high bar to meet, but it was the sort of environment that Celestia hoped might lead to a lasting resolution to the Empire's troubles.

Having listened to them bicker back and forth for the better part of the past six hours, her saintly patience was finally beginning to wear thin. That had just as much to do with the arguing delegates as the fact that tensions between both sides had flared up in the wee hours of the morning, forcing the Princess to miss the departure of her niece Orzel in favor of preventing an international incident. Much as it irked her, Celestia still had to admit it was probably for the best the Griffons had come to Equestria for their dispute.

The last thing anyone needed now was for one of the top three largest iron producers in the known world to devolve into civil war. The industry had suffered greatly following the recent economic downturn in the Empire, forcing many nations to turn to Equestria to fill the demand. Be that as it may, enough countries still relied on Griffon iron that a sudden shortage posed considerable risk to the global economy. Celestia suspected both delegations would be far more amenable to compromise now that they were free from the expectant eyes of their respective constituents...

Celestia took a moment to examine the delegations, both the Iron Bloods and the Imperials. The former was mostly comprised of merchants and a few sympathetic lower ranking officers, many of whom wore lapel pins depicting two black swords crossed over one another. It was headed, fittingly enough, by the titular 'Adler von Eisenblut'. The Imperial delegation, being lead by Ambassador Flaumfeder, was comprised primarily by Senior Officers of the Imperial Military High Command. Pinching the bridge of her nose, Celestia wordlessly suppressed the urge to scream, as once again the discussion was devolving into a chorus of angry shouts.

"Our people are starving while you decadent pigs wallow in the filth of your own corruption!" Roared Oberst Eisenblut, obviously having had enough of the deadlock on the current topic. "We would be better off trading with the Equestrians on our own! We've sufficient ships!"

Eisenblut was far more handsome in person, the presence of the black leather eye patch was compounded by his youth and passionate care for his people, which endeared him greatly to Celestia. That endearment was undermined by his regular fits of temper and propensity for fiery rhetoric. Celestia supposed he had sufficient cause to be upset... While his colorful declaration might have been exaggerated, neither side could deny the food shortages and rampant inflation racking the Northern Griffon Provinces.

"Yes, that's the solution isn't it?! We can seize the ships that rightfully belong to the people of the Northern Coalition!" The Oberst declared forcefully, actually rising from his seat and leaning on the table with a fire in his eyes. Ambassador Flaumfeder bristled at that and rose from his seat as well, both men looking as if they were preparing to leap across the table and physically attack one another.

"You cannot be serious, those ships are the property of the Imperial Trading Company!" Flaumfeder rebutted emphatically, and it was then that Celestia obtusely cleared her throat. Sensing that he had perhaps overstepped even Celestia's patience, the Ambassador quietly cleared his throat and awkwardly both men returned to their seats.

"Oberst Eisenblut has a point, Ambassador." Celestia stated evenly, eying Eisenblut with the intent of warning him that he should not capitalize on that statement. He remained silent, receiving her meaning clearly. "I'm sure you agree that starvation of any sort should be avoided wherever possible..." Flaumfeder responded with only the faintest of nods, lacing his fingers together on the table, still glaring at Eisenblut. "It seems the Southern Provinces are more intrigued by making use of their gold deposits, why not allow the North to seek separate agreements for its iron? So what if the ships are owned by this 'Imperial Trading Company'?" Griffon trade agreements could be weird, as they changed their policies so frequently it was hard to keep track of all the companies involved.

"The Imperial Trading Company is the sole organization authorized at present to deal with foreign powers, but that isn't my concern." Flaumfeder patiently explained, not once removing his gaze from the Oberst. "As you have mentioned, we are using our Gold deposits, but to do so we need the foundries and refining facilities controlled by these..." He stopped himself, visibly restraining his anger. "People." He looked about the rest of the Iron Blood delegation. "That is why we've reduced our iron output, there simply aren't enough facilities to accommodate both industries. Those ships he desires to use carry the ore to be processed, and then the refined gold back to the Capital. We've drawn considerable credit from that gold, your highness. If it stops flowing, even briefly, we will be unable to pay our debts." Celestia nodded quietly in understanding, her eyes turning back to Eisenblut.

"If you want to get out of the hole, you must first stop digging!" The Oberst seethed gruffly, leaning back in his own plush seat. "They would not have so many debts if they ceased spending on unsustainable projects and programs! Many of their public works would be fine, even welcome, if they actually had the money to pay for them! Had our economy remained sturdy as it was I've no doubt they would be completed and paying for themselves, but at present...?" He shook his head. "The Ambassador also seems to forget that a foreign cargo ship is just as capable of hauling iron as one belonging to the ITC... Albeit, without the customary 'kickback' to members of the ITC's board." Flaumfeder's face reddened, but Celestia held up her hand.

"The time has come for us to dispense with this bickering back and forth." She stated simply, resting her hands in her lap, her wings ruffling in obvious annoyance. "You both make valid points, but I've heard enough, and further arguing will not solve the problem... We're here because a Civil War in the Griffon Empire would be a disaster for all those involved." She turned her eyes to the Iron Bloods. "There's already a food shortage in the North, how will a war alleviate that?" The woman looked next to the Imperial delegation. "How will the Empire draw further credit from its Gold reserves if the North refuses to process the ore? How will you pay your debts?" The Princess looked them all in the eyes, allowing the silence to reign for a moment, until it was clear all of them understood the gravity of what she'd said.

"The simple answer is that there are no solutions, none that are satisfactory to everyone at any rate." Celestia steepled her fingers, her voice softening. "Equestria is preparing to undertake the construction of a Trans-National Highway, a project that will require a great amount of steel. Our domestic production is sufficient for our current needs, but not to also support such an undertaking in earnest. However..." She temporized. "Our ability to process raw iron is far greater than that of the Northern Provinces, all we require is the raw ore." That was actually a bit of a lie, there was sufficient domestic steel production to meet the demands of the Highway project and their industrial needs, but only just... "At present we cannot trade food for iron ore directly, as I am sure Oberst Eisenblut would prefer, but we can mediate an agreement between the Northern Provinces and Ornithia, who has more than ample supply."

"In return for food from Ornithia and Gold from Equestria, the Empire will grant the Northern Provinces greater autonomy in matters of trade, free from the restrictions of the ITC. The Northern Provinces in turn will lessen their rhetoric towards secession, and all parties will commit to de-escalating tensions first and foremost." Celestia concluded smoothly, watching the delegates as the gears turned in their heads. Most seemed accepting of the proposition, but she could see that Eisenblut and Flaumfeder were still unsure. "Remember, your people are looking to both of you to pull them out of this mess, there is more at stake here than personal pride..." She added, as a mother might chide her children... Given the vast age difference between her and those in the room, that was perhaps a bit too accurate. Visibly chastened by Celestia's words, Eisenblut and Flaumfeder both finally nodded.

"Very well..." The Oberst muttered, eyes cast to the floor, before he abruptly stood and offered his hand to Flaumfeder. "For the good of our people." He added firmly, the Ambassador rose as well and cast an apologetic look to Celestia, then hesitantly shook Eisenblut's hand.

Celestia allowed a smile of satisfaction to cross her lips, though she knew that her work was far from over. The particulars of the treaty still needed to be drawn up, but that was a task for the legal minds of the Equestrian Foreign Ministry to handle. Undoubtedly there'd be more last minute haggling and negotiating, but at least for now the heightened tensions between North and South seemed to be on the ebb.

The meeting concluded perhaps an hour later, once she'd managed to work a little more 'damage control', building the working relationship between Eisenblut and the Ambassador. Just another means of ensuring that the peace lasted long enough for the treaty to be signed and ratified. The Ornithians had recently been pushing Equestria to purchase more of their food surplus, given the ongoing ecological clean up, but Equestrian stores were holding.

Celestia had a great deal of confidence Ornithia would gladly sell to the Griffons' Northern Provinces, as they lacked the technological capacity to produce processed and canned food stuffs on a wide scale. Thus, any food they didn't sell they would eventually have to be discarded, and no one liked throwing away money. Secure in the knowledge that she'd restored at least a modicum of stability to her eastern neighbors across the sea, Celestia bid the delegations farewell and departed to resume her normal daily duties. There was more time in her schedule over the past few days than there had been in recent months... The reason for which brought her no joy. Typically she set aside a few hours to check in on her niece, but Orzel was well on her way to Amberjack Island by now.

It was a shame the girl couldn't have been present for the negotiations that Celestia had just completed, she might've learned something about deal brokering. Maybe, Celestia hoped, the girl might even have come to see 'Soft Power' was at least just as important as 'Hard Power'... The woman still held out hope that the girl might come around to a kinder, gentler, approach to foreign policy... Between her weekly visits to Doctor Scratch, her twice weekly trips to her temple, and Celestia and Luna's own guidance, they'd made a lot of progress on that front. Still, Celestia doubted her niece would budge further than 'both types of power have their place'.

The Princess could only imagine the frightful progress that could be made if Orzel turned her attention to peacemaking rather than gunsmithing... Of course, she bore some of the responsibility on that front, or... Rather a lot of it, in hindsight. They were getting exactly what they wanted, guns and technology to fight the Changelings. The jury was out as to whether that decision would be their salvation, or merely a waste of potential...

Walking towards the Eastern portion of the castle, Celestia cast a look out a nearby window at the lonely Eastern Watch Tower. With its roof covered in snow, the stoney structure briefly conjured memories of her years in the Castle of the Two Sisters... Times had been no less trying then, but the scope of the crises tended to be much more limited. Now she was negotiating treaties based on other treaties that had to be established, all to maintain an ever increasingly complicated status quo. Yet that status quo couldn't remain for much longer... The amount of change spurred by recent events was evidence enough of that.

Celestia stopped before the window, staring now at the dead and snow covered greenery of the gardens. So similar to their western counterpart, where just one of those changes had taken place...

"Observos' ripple theory may be proven by that alone." Celestia mused idly, clasping her hands behind her back. She referred to the theory posited by Piercing Gaze, in his former life, that a single large event would at first create tremendous rippling events, but those ripples would gradually dissipate with time, and world events would thus return more or less to their normal occurrences afterwards. Luna's return might have been the first great disturbance, as the world had been a far more stable place prior to her return... Celestia didn't blame her Sister in the slightest. "Then again, perhaps Miss Dash's Sonic Rainboom was the actual event?"

The woman shook her head, it was useless to focus on those particular imponderables, and she would drive herself mad pondering the 'what ifs' beyond her control. Speaking of things beyond her control, Celestia became acutely aware of a muffled magic chime. Offering her palm to the side, she saw a slightly translucent vision of her sister flicker into being. Not nearly as crisp an image as an Arcane Beacon would've made her, but it would at least suffice. Luna's features were understandably worried, given the nature of the day, and Celestia opted to pause and hear what the woman had to say before anything else.

"Orzel is on her way..." Luna began, pacing back in forth in what Celestia assumed was the MSC. "We should have chosen a more southerly depot... The weather was less than ideal, her aeroplane almost failed to lift off from the ocean." Luna sounded furious at the implications of what that would mean, and Celestia cringed... Both at the news of her niece's near miss with fate, and because she knew that Luna would blame herself for even allowing such a thing to potentially happen. "The aircraft has signaled that they will complete its passage over the Western Unknown in a few minutes, and that all seems calm, but..." The woman growled in frustration, pounding on a table that Celestia couldn't see in the hologram. "Blast those wretched meta-morphs! She should not be forced from her home, again! What if her 'inner light' fades in my absence? What if the aircraft falls from the sky!?"

"She has been imprinted upon by you long enough, and is far enough along in her adolescence, that the former is not a concern..." Celestia assured, for what felt like the thousandth time. Then again, it had been assumed that conditions around Unicorn Point would be better than was obviously the case that morning.

In that respect Luna's fears weren't unfounded, but Orzel wasn't being subjected to the trauma of being orphaned again. It was more the opposite, as the girl was getting to spend the foreseeable future lounging in the relative comfort of an island paradise... Well, when she wasn't working on her new rifle.

"As for the latter concern..." Celestia continued. "She has her 'Fantom' broom, does she not? Should something occur with the plane, she could surely escape to safety aboard that. Was that not the plan to begin with?" Luna's features softened, and reluctantly she nodded. Celestia got the feeling there was more to it than what Luna had already explained.

"I informed her of the true reason for her need to depart." The woman admitted, and Celestia cast her eyes about the hallway out of instinct. She was alone, as far as she could tell, but Changelings were crafty creatures. Using her other hand, the Princess surrounded herself with a bubble that would ward sound from passing beyond. "She was... Incensed." Luna continued once the spell was in place. "More upset than I have ever seen her, though she hid it well... I would not have known the full extent if not for her..." The woman trailed off. "She nearly underwent a full transformation, Celestia... Her fury was so great that she could not mentally restrain her body's response, I had to administer a mild arcane sedative." Luna shook her head. "She thought that was part of the reason I was sending her away." Celestia frowned at that, resuming her walk, the sound proof bubble and hologram hovering along with her.

"I still remain uncertain telling her was a good idea, but I suppose with her rampant imagination..." The elder Princess temporized, looking ahead, down the long and lonely hallway. "Even so, that near-transformation should assuage your earlier concerns. It would not be possible for her to do so if her arcane signature were still tied in any way to yours." Luna gave a grudging nod, her features still harsh and worried. "You should be proud of yourself, Luna." Celestia said honestly, though it did little to visibly lighten Luna's mood. The Older sister paused briefly, clasping her hand behind her back. "Perhaps allowing her to visit Amberjack Island on her own will help build upon the foundation we've both helped to foster." Her sister chuckled softly at that, as apparently that was enough to dissipate some of her stress.

"I sincerely hope she does not become too influenced by her time upon Amberjack Island." Honestly stated Luna, her hologram briefly flickering as she apparently took a seat on the other end of the call. "The sailors of the South Lunar Fleet are an... Unusual sort." Celestia rolled her eyes at the understatement.

The South Lunar Fleet was seen by many to be the absolute lowest prestige posting in the Navy. Short of being assigned to Equestria's South Pole Station, there was no less coveted place to be. The SLF was where officers with dead-end careers toiled away until retirement. Those that didn't sit behind desks commanded crews comprised of the worst troublemakers or underachievers in the Navy. These men and women were crammed aboard ships that, in many cases, were older than the people serving aboard them. Orzel herself had threatened many officers that were obstructing the completion of ESS Sokol with virtual banishment to the very place she would now reside... The irony was still fresh to Celestia.

"Knowing her, she'll be too interested in finally getting a chance to focus her time solely on her inventions." Celestia offered, passing a pair of guards standing near the entrance to another hallway. They snapped to attention, as always, but otherwise said nothing. "I wouldn't be surprised if, by the time she returns, she hasn't designed a 'ray-gun' like in those science fiction novel's she's always going on about." Luna smiled briefly, but it rapidly faded, and Celestia immediately felt like a heel. "I meant because she's an adept thinker, not because she would be away long..." Her sister didn't seem reassured. "We'll deal with the Changelings soon enough..."

Celestia didn't add that they'd likely have to move Orzel again if the threat hadn't been dealt with as quickly as possible. Her mind briefly conjured an image of a chess board in the closing moves of a losing game, with Orzel taking the place of the 'King' piece. The Changelings were constantly maneuvering to try and capture the piece, all while Celestia and Luna were moving Orzel about... If only to prolong defeat by one more turn. Of course, the entire situation was far more complex than that, as reality had far less restrictions than a chess board, but the futility of that mental image struck the Princess to her core.

Her earlier thoughts of the myriad of recent happenings, and the rippling waves of chaotic events, surged back to the forefront. Would her niece be reduced to little more than a permanent 'designated survivor', doomed for her entire life to roam the globe so that 'the bad guys' wouldn't get all the Princesses at once? Once the Changelings were dealt with, what was to keep another threat from emerging? What would be the next thing to force that young, bright, and now painfully lonely girl to hide again and again, only so that she might keep up the fight if the worst came to pass...? Was it her destiny to inherit whatever calamity might arise with such terrible ferocity it would render Celestia and all other members of the Crown powerless?

Wasn't that the real reason they'd made Orzel a Princess in the first place...? To shore up the line of succession, to take all the eggs out of the same basket? Had Celestia's niece been reduced to little more than a glorified chess piece...? A Pawn, in King's clothing... What sort of life would that be? One perhaps just as regimented and spirit crushing as that which the Noble Party might've inflicted upon Orzel, Celestia suspected. Dutifully hiding and remaining safe, as Celestia knew her niece would do... Orzel was very much aligned with Equestria, but the Szafirian tenets of 'Duty to one's State' still ran deep, and in the girl's view her duty demanded no less than total sacrifice of her well being for the sake of her subjects...

Equestria, meanwhile, would plod onwards as before, their new Princess fading in their memories. She wouldn't be forgotten, the Black Crowns certainly would remember, but that memory would gradually grow distorted with time. Orzel the Princess would live on in the shadows, waiting to lead a fight that hopefully never came, but Orzel the person would shrivel into a hollow and empty shell... At least as Celestia and Luna knew her. No more 'missing' garden tools, or a constant need to expand the Castle's library... No lingering odor of drying model glue or machine oil... Less than a year ago Celestia had no interest in such things, yet now she couldn't imagine the castle without them. This was the danger of chasing the nimble butterflies of imponderable thought, and Celestia had to will herself away from those tendencies at once.

"No..." Celestia declared softly, her mind returning to the present, to her sister's hologram. "She may not be able to return by Spring." She admitted, setting her jaw. Luna's expression was stoic, at least on the surface, but Celestia could see that her sister had just run a similar gauntlet of thoughts to her own. "It may take months, it may take years, but once this particularly insidious threat is at an end, she will return to us, Luna..." Celestia swore darkly, with a voice she'd not heard from herself since a dreadful night, a thousand years before...

Pharynx stood silently before the map of Equestria, brow furrowed deeply in thought. It was a sizable construct of the finest craftsmen in the hive, dominating the center of his new quarters, chambers considered more than fitting for a General. The Queen had seen fit to promote him, again, primarily because he assumed she didn't know how promotions worked. This time he'd been afforded the rank of 'Supreme High General of all the Swarms', a rank Chrysalis had just made up, following a successful stealth incursion beyond the Equestrian border... It had primarily been to ensure that that the enemy wasn't massing a larger force, and consisted of only a small squad of his best infiltrators.

Astonishingly, despite the obvious increase in patrols, Equestria's inland settlements seemed blissfully unaware of the danger posed by the Changelings. They were quite vigilant for Dragon Raiders, including advanced scouts, but that was only natural... Pharynx doubted that their ignorance of the Changelings would remain the case for long, and as soon as that happened it would very well be impossible to conduct reconnaissance directly along the border. The excursion had also revealed that Equestria's economic power had recently been shaken by an ecological disaster, though it was unfortunately well on its way to recover, short of another major disaster...

If only the Hive had enough warriors to launch an appreciable assault, something more than a raid but less than an invasion, just enough to stir them up... He might've been able to trigger a recession, perhaps even a complete economic collapse. What had stayed his hand most pressingly was that such a strike would likely galvanize Equestrian resolve... Then they would flock to their factories in droves, and bury the Hive's armies beneath their tremendous reserves of manpower and industrial capacity. He had witnessed much of their country for himself, during his days as an Deep Infiltration Scout, before Queen Tempo had seen his potential as an officer.

Factories as large as the hive, powerful steel mills, backed by fleets of automobiles, flying machines, and railways to make it all move. If his Queen were to seize control of Equestria, it would mean more than just acquiring a source of Love, it would change the lives of every Changeling in his hive as never before... His people would have access to the comforts of the industrial age, something completely unheard of in any of the other Hives. His army would be the most powerful of all, powerful enough to perhaps even force the other Hives to submit to his- Er, Chrysalis' glorious rule!

The General shook his head, he couldn't allow his ambitions to blind him... It was fun to dream, but there was a very real danger in the plan he was drafting at the behest of his Queen. Rubbing his chin, Pharynx examined the map in greater detail. As it stood, his best chance at defeating the Equestrians was still to decapitate their command structure. That meant taking Canterlot, capturing or otherwise incapacitating their Royal Family, and using them as leverage to force the rest of Equestria to submit...

It sounded simple, and that would be good enough for Queen Chrysalis, but Pharynx knew better. There were so many considerations to take into account, and it was only by virtue of time that he felt comfortable even contemplating such an operation. Most pressing was the need to deploy troops and supplies nearly twelve-hundred miles inland. Pharynx hoped to use the Everfree Forest as a staging area, it was large and generally went unexplored... Not without good reason, but the Swarm could handle any natural predators that might menace it, provided they had sufficient numbers.

Troops were easy enough to move on their own, they could disguise themselves as locals and walk more or less unimpeded once they cleared the border provinces. He'd have to move them in groups of a couple hundred, spread out from various border settlements. It'd take months to put them in place, of course, and they couldn't very well march about in full combat kit. His chief concern, the concern of any competent professional General, wasn't the where and when of his plan... It was the how.

Conservative estimates dictated that he'd need a force of approximately fifty thousand troops to rest Canterlot from Equestrian hands and withstand the counter attack that was bound to come. That was fifty thousand swords, rifle muskets, uniforms, armor sets, helmets, and other essentials... A hundred thousand boots, at least, and those numbers only reflected the supplies needed to initially equip a force. He could scarcely imagine just how they would keep such an army fed, or deliver replacement equipment and munitions.

"I should never have opened my big mouth..." Pharynx mumbled uncharacteristically, pausing to think over his plan a bit more carefully. Upon reflection, Pharynx realized that he'd never be able to deploy his entire force into the Everfree one piece at a time. To do so invited the Equestrian's to possibly detect his force, then martial their considerably better trained and equipped forces to destroy his armies piece by tiny piece. Even if he managed to maintain operational security, supplying those troops would be another problem entirely, as they'd need every iota of supplies snuck towards them. No... That wouldn't do at all.

His attention settled on a feature dubbed 'Ghastly Gorge'. After a few moments rumination, a smile creased his sharp features, and he briefly pondered the emotion he felt in that instant... Satisfaction. Hardly enough to sustain himself, but a delectable morsel nonetheless. Ghastly Gorge surrounded a winding river that extended from as far south as the Southern Dragonlands, through the Macintosh Range, all the way up to heart of the Everfree Forest, and even joined a larger river that ran through the centrally located railway hub of Ponyville. One rail line in particular also happened to extend beyond the Macintosh Range, first through the Equestrian outpost of Appleloosa. As it happened, that same railway had a bridge that crossed Ghastly Gorge.

Pharynx couldn't effectively sneak his forces over land, but he could deploy a vanguard using the river. Perhaps they could fashion rafts from timbers taken in the Macintosh Range? That way, he could perhaps even deploy a small battery of field guns... The General shook his head, he was getting too far ahead of himself. The vanguard could move up river and fortify a position within the Everfree, then wait there until the initial assault on Canterlot. Then it would be a matter of securing the railway bridge over the gorge and seizing Appleloosa. The bridge would be easy, but Appleloosa...? That was where the real problems arose. It was one Equestria's southernmost border towns, right on the front lines in the ongoing fight against the Dragon Raiders.

By necessity of survival, that required it to be perhaps the most heavily armed settlement in Equestria, with an estimated five firearms for every adult civilian, many of whom were members of the 'Lone Star Homeguard' militia... Considering the size, training, and equipment status of that organization, it was more akin to many of the 'Freikorps' that were gaining popularity in West Parthenia of late. That didn't even take into account law enforcement, Lone Star Rangers, and the Territorial Garrison. Put bluntly, Appleloosa was a veritable fortress, filled with Equestrian citizens of the most ornery sort. Pioneers. They wouldn't yield their land without a fight, and not the sort of fight a professional army like Pharynx's was adept at facing. He'd seen it dozens of times, they fought just as dirty and just as brutally as the dragons that assailed them regularly.

Briefly Pharynx considered a siege, but the Appleloosans would need only wait a few days before the Equestrians sent a relief force. He was getting too caught up in the smaller details, for now he needed to focus on the macro picture, then he could work out the smaller workings. Assuming Pharynx could bring both Appleloosa and the gorge thoroughly under Changeling control, they could deploy the bulk of the invading army by railway, hopefully plowing through to Ponyville before the Equestrians could mount a response.

Using the two settlements as supply depots, both for weapons and to acquire living 'provisions', the vanguard's decapitation strike on Canterlot would be more likely to succeed. He'd need to martial a token force to the east, militia mostly, to parade about in full view of the Equestrian Rangers... Distract them from the push along the river. The war wouldn't be one great battle, over in a single day, but defeating the Equestrians within a few weeks would have the same effect... Any longer than that, and the enemy would easily repel his force, resulting in a costly and bloody withdrawal. The man shook his head once more, not wanting to risk sounding like a defeatist.

He had two years to come up with a solution for the Appleloosa concern, plenty of time to work out its weaknesses and ways to exploit them. Perhaps the boys in Infiltration could come up with something? Still, Pharynx was reminded of the old Griffon adage that 'No plan survives its first encounter with the enemy', or something to that effect. The strategy he proposed was bold, unexpected, and relied entirely on complete and total surprise. He had no doubt such a thing was possible given the natural gifts of his race, and aside from Appleloosa there was just one problem he wasn't sure he could overcome... A problem invariably closer to home.

That problem was, unsurprisingly, Queen Chrysalis herself. Yes, the very woman that had ordered the plan's creation in the first place. Pharynx had no illusions about her sanity or fitness to rule, even the blindest of nymphs could see she wasn't 'playing with a full deck', to use a Lone Star turn of phrase. Already he could foresee how his meeting with her would go, and in turn gave himself a headache just thinking about it.

Pharynx would bring his plan to the Queen, she would undoubtedly approve, and then the interference would begin. He'd want to send spies to Canterlot to sew confusion, perhaps infiltrate the palace staff, and she'd twist that into some absurd notion... Perhaps she'd order him to do something stupid, like kidnap and replace a member of the Royal family? Pharynx barked a genuine laugh at the thought, surely even she wasn't that mad. In that same vein, if she was that insane, he felt without a doubt the Queen would demand that she be the one to take the kidnapped Princess's place!

The General was leaning heavily on the table now, laughing his guts out, imagining what Chrysalis might look like in one of Celestia's flowing gowns, or the more alluring Gothic attire of Princess Luna. His sides nearly shot into orbit, and he struggled to catch his breath, at the thought of the ill tempered and unbelievably crazy witch prancing about as Mi Amore Cadenza, Princess of Love! Perhaps, given her temperament and attitude, she could pass for Blueblood? As if the Equestrians would ever fall for such a trick. They couldn't be that foolish, could they? Reigning in his brief fit of mirth, Pharynx straightened and cleared his throat.

Much as he disliked the woman that had replaced the Hive's beloved Queen Tempo, the task with which she'd charged Pharynx was sound enough. It was far easier, far more efficient, to just take the nourishing love of the Equestrians by force. Not only would a conquest of such a large subservient population secure a virtually limitless food source, the fighting would undoubtedly be costly... Decreasing the population surplus that had caused the food shortage in the first place. Any remaining glint of amusement immediately faded, and a silent sensation of shame rocked his body. Queen Tempo had told him of an Equestrian concept, one that seemed antithetical to Changeling ideals, and yet the notion had stuck. The word was 'Honor', far different from the Changeling version of the same word. Pharynx had come to associate it closely with 'Duty', and he prized his honor highly...

His duty was to the Hive, to his Changeling brothers and sisters... Chrysalis could afford to disregard her people however she chose, that was her right as Queen. To Pharynx, however, it was a grave dishonor to see them as disposable. They performed their duties with great loyalty, looking to him for guidance. A General couldn't be so callous with the lives of his soldiers, not if he wanted to keep his Army for very long. They were his soldiers, after all, and would only fight for so long under threat of reprisal... If he could build their resolve, build their trust just as Queen Tempo had, treat them as his own flesh and blood... They would follow him into the very pits of Tartarus and back.

"Are you alright?" A familiar, if slightly reedy, voice drew Pharynx from his inner thoughts, and his eyes darted immediately to the doorway leading into his dimly lit stone chamber. The scowl that had started to crease his features softened, albeit slightly, when he laid eyes upon his younger brother. Thorax was smaller than most Changelings, and Queen Tempo had always urged Pharynx to look out for the little guy. They weren't her 'children', per se, but Tempo had always made it a point to involve herself in the lives of all her promising subjects as a sort of 'teacher'... There was a Queen that, if she still lived, might have found a means to alleviate the food shortage without invading Equestria. If only they could be so lucky. "I thought I heard you coughing up a lung a few moments ago." The slightly diminutive, but otherwise average, looking fellow approached the map table, examining it with passing curiosity.

"No, I was just..." Pharynx began, then ultimately trailed off. Thorax was one of the few people he trusted, and the only one he knew would share the humor he found in an arrogant Queen Chrysalis' attempting to pass herself off as a 'selfless Princess of virtue'. Even so, his little brother was just as likely to chastise him for belittling the Queen in such a way. Not out of any sort of loyalty to Chrysalis, more in memory of Tempo... Thorax had always been a 'Queen's pet', to paraphrase an Equestrian saying. "Never mind... I'm fine, Thorax." He finally declared dismissively. "What are you doing here? How did you even enter the Underhive?"

"How did you even enter the Underhive?" Thorax repeated in an alarmingly accurate facsimile of Pharynx's voice, his own features morphing and shifting to take the General's own... Albeit, Thorax's version was shorter. "I'm General Pharynx, and this is my favorite chamber in the Underhive!" He added with a slight smirk before dropping his disguise and the false voice.

Normally, Changelings could fool one another just as effectively as they could Equestrians or other races, but the guards at the gates of the Underhive were far more attuned to notice such things. Even so, Thorax was Pharynx's brother, and there was enough of a natural resemblance that the two could more or less swap places and hardly anyone would notice... With the exception of Queen Tempo, of course. She'd seen through that trick almost instantly.

"Mother's been exceptionally bitter that we haven't been moved to better quarters..." Thorax explained tiredly, rubbing at the bridge of his nose with obvious frustration. "She thinks she's entitled to noble treatment, now that her son has become 'Supreme High General', she seems to think that rank applies to her as well." That figured... The annoyance was palpable in every syllable. "I couldn't stand her nagging any longer, so I thought I'd come pop my head in and bother my brother, for old time's sake." Pharynx nodded in understanding, emitting a single dry chuckle of mirth.

"She must be even more insufferable than I remember, if she finally managed to drive you away." The General concluded, tucking his hands into his pockets. "You have my apologies on that front." His brother waved dismissively, casting his eyes back to the map. "Much as it galls me, I could arrange for the two of you to find quarters in the Underhive."

All of their siblings had left the nest as soon as they were able, primarily to get away from their Mother. Thorax, being the youngest son, had remained behind to care for the hag in her advancing age. She berated him, tormented him, even threw things at him... Yet he stayed behind, because that was his duty to the state, for which he endured the dishonor of being exempted him from Military Service. The miserable shrew must've been in peak form if she'd finally driven Thorax away, even temporarily, as Pharynx suspected to be the case.

"No... No, I doubt if she could even fit through the door at this point." Thorax countered, clasping his hands behind his back as he strode along the edges of the map. Pharynx could see, now that the young man was closer, that his brother's typically average eyes had taken a slightly red appearance.

A towering rage sparked to life in Pharynx's gut, realizing that whatever Mother had said, it had been enough to bring his younger brother to tears. Thorax was sensitive, almost shamefully so, but he had the patience and stoicism of a Queen's Guard. Pharynx suspected Thorax's refusal of better accommodations was his way of exacting some sort of retribution, or had the old breeding sow actually become so gargantuanly over weight that she could no longer fit through the door? How could that be? The food crisis had seen the entire Hive placed on rations. He realized then that Thorax seemed much thinner than he should've been, and the burgeoning anger bloomed into a maelstrom of hatred he could scarcely control.

"Thorax." Pharynx grated as gently as he could. "Are you feeding well?" He already knew the answer, but Thorax's nearly imperceptible shake of the head confirmed it. "Unacceptable!" Pharynx boomed, his voice reverberating through the chamber like a thundering cannonade.

The exemption from Military Service, given to Thorax as caretaker of an aged 'Hive Mother', was one of the most coveted titles in all the Hive. Those that held it usually ate far better than their fellows, even if they were viewed as shirking their duties to the rest of the hive. They were generally despised as a result, yet here Thorax was... Doing his duty, his duty to a woman that didn't deserve his loyalty, enduring a great dishonor, and yet unable to enjoy the slight modicum of luxury that duty provided?! All the while, Pharynx was plotting the destruction of an entire nation in order to feed his people, while his wretched 'Mother' gorged herself with not only her own rations but the rations of her most loyal of sons!?

"Absolutely unacceptable!" The General repeated, struggling to reign in his fury. There were few things that could truly set him off, and mistreating any of his siblings topped that list. He'd been hauled before Queen Tempo more than two dozen times as a nymph for disciplinary action, not for starting fights, rather because he finished them. "It cannot be allowed to stand!" His face went virtually purple with anger.

"Brother! Stop yelling! Please!" Thorax pleaded, visibly cringing away from Pharynx, and for the briefest of moments the General nearly lost control of himself. He didn't see his brother before him, but just any other member of their hive, cowering away in fear... Were it not Thorax, the General would have lashed out at such a shameful display... But it was Thorax... His younger brother... His closest friend. The rage that had burned through every restraint and mental control Pharynx possessed then evaporated, leaving none but embers, as he tentatively patted his kinsman on the shoulder. Another bolt of shame ran through him as the younger man shrunk away... Just as their Mother had railed and shrieked, so too had Pharynx, and the effect had been the same on poor Thorax...

"Forgive me, Brother..." Pharynx managed, once more straightening his posture, adjusting the officers tunic that was now ruffled about his torso. "I... Am truly sorry." He muttered, pursing his lips while Thorax managed to regain his own composure. "I have much on my mind, and to hear Mother's behavior was simply too much. Even so, that is no excuse..." His eyes settled upon the map again, a new determination burning in his chest... The food shortage had to end, no matter the cost, for the sake of his brother if nothing else. Even so, he could not focus on the task at hand and worry for Thorax's well being at the same time. "I can release you from your duty to Mother, if you so desire... You will be conscripted, of course, but I suspect you will be better fed than you are now." He nodded more resolutely. "I am in need of what the Prench call an aide-de-camp, a role I will bestow upon only a trusted confidant."

Thorax stared at him, pausing to consider the offer. As far as Pharynx was concerned, his brother had performed his duties beyond what was demanded of him. Thus, despite the fact that their Mother still lived, his duty was complete. Would Thorax see things the same way? Pharynx doubted it, but there was little more he could do. Mother could rot, for all he cared... His duty remained with his Hive... With his Brother. To the General's surprise, and admitted relief, Thorax suddenly entered a deep and respectful bow. In a resolute tone, one Pharynx was unaccustomed to hearing from the typically submissive man, his brother's voice rang out.

"Thank you, my General!" Thorax declared, before straightening to his full height, relief evident upon his otherwise average features. "How may I begin...?"

Pharynx hummed quietly, there wasn't any reason his brother couldn't start work immediately... Besides, Pharynx wanted to see what he had to work with, if he was going to mold his brother to a more martial life style. So, patiently and as elaborately as he could, the General outlined his plan upon the map, pausing occasionally to ensure that Thorax was following along. Pharynx found that his brother had an uncanny knack for logistics, and understood well that leading by example was of incredible importance... Perhaps Queen Tempo had been grooming him for a military posting as well? Pharynx set that aside for the moment, and concluded his explanation of the plan with a simple question... Was there anything he'd missed?

"What if the Princesses are not all in Canterlot when the attack commences? If even one escapes, or is not present at the time of the assault, will they not lead the Equestrian response?" Thorax responded studiously, and Pharynx nodded his head at the observation, he hadn't taken that into account. He had based his notions on the assumption that, like most Changeling Queens, the Equestrian leaders wouldn't ever leave the comfort of their palace. "It is not out of the realm of possibility, even now there is rumor that Princess Luna is undergoing an inspection tour of the Equestrian's Naval facilities."

"They seem to realize that something is amiss beyond their reach." Pharynx added, referencing the daily reported Ranger patrols north of and along the Equestrian border. "Unlike us, their authority is spread among more than one head of state. Perhaps to prevent such a thing as we plan from ever taking place..."

The man rubbed his chin while Thorax further examined the map, tracing his finger down the river through the Macintosh Range, down to the Southern Dragonlands. They were scarcely inhabited at present outside the few permanent settlements set up there, and would likely remain so for the next two years, when the next Great Migration was set to begin... Typically Changeling patrols still avoided that region regardless. No sense enraging even a few of the incredibly dangerous clans that lived there.

"Their supreme command structure is even further spread out now..." Thorax observed, lifting his finger from the map. "Princess Celestia, Princess Luna, Princess Cadence, Prince Blueblood, and most recently..." He tapped the word 'Dragonlands'. "Princess Orzel..." Pharynx raised an eyebrow at that, while he was aware of the girl, she wasn't considered much of a threat. After all, she was young, and hardly physically imposing... It was reported that she was shorter than Thorax, and by all accounts not very strong. Then again, Pharynx had read several reports on her odd... Habits. Those didn't fill him with confidence either.

"She is a Drake... A Drake from beyond this world, no less. As Luna's daughter, she may well share her Mother's martial inclinations. If I am not wrong, she has taken considerable interest in the development of Equestria's sea power?" Thorax expanded. That, like so many other pieces of intelligence, had been spread about the Hive by word of mouth. Thankfully Pharynx doubted the enemy could ever install spies to make use of that otherwise glaring security risk. "I am not saying she is a threat on her own, but as you said, if even one member of the Royal Family escapes..." He trailed off. "We know much about the others, but she remains illusive."

"She is virtually a recluse." Pharynx agreed, tucking his hands into his pocket. "The Hive's collective knowledge is well informed, but there are some facets that remain secret..." The General strolled to the other side of the map, glaring at the location marked 'Canterlot'. "From what our spies have gathered, she sequesters herself within the Eastern Tower, but departs regularly to visit a shuttered military facility outside of Ponyville, or to attend to some sort of 'religious business' in the city... The nature of what she is doing at the facility we have yet to discern." He shook his head. "The spies also report 'tasting' a deep sense of conflict and violent impulses." The General further admitted. "Our infiltrators have been unable to enter her chambers, as she keeps them secured with some sort of arcane locking mechanism. She is either paranoid, or they suspect our presence there..." Thorax chuckled faintly at that, earning a raised eyebrow from Pharynx.

"Is it truly paranoia if they are correct?" The younger, freshly minted aide-de-camp, asked. "I must admit, Brother, I know little about the affairs of war at present..." Thorax continued, and Pharynx was rather certain he sensed more to come. "That being said, would it not be easier to ask her ourselves?" Pharynx looked at him in confusion. "You said she attends religious ceremonies regularly, does she not? Perhaps sending infiltrators to her temple, posing as practitioners, might allow us some insight into how she thinks versus how we know the other members of the Crown?" Pharynx rounded on his brother, and Thorax looked about to shrink away, but stopped when he saw the pride in his General's eyes.

"An excellent idea..." Pharynx said, gripping his brother by the shoulders. "But risky... I shall have to consult the Queen first, if only to secure our safety... She thinks I do not fear failure, you know? That is not entirely true. If I fail of my own account, then I shall accept my fate, but if others fail in my name...?" Thorax looked at him questioningly, but after a few moments the understanding became clear. This new Queen was far different, after all, and failure would not be treated with kindness...

Chapter 21

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 22

Few people doubted that Equestria's southern border with the Dragonlands was one of the most dangerous places someone could choose to live. For most of those living throughout the wider country, it was virtually impossible to understand just why so many decided to try and make their life among the sand and danger. What sort of crazy person would ever want to reside what was arguably the country's most dangerous frontier, perhaps even more dangerous than the Western Unknown? Why not just abandon it to the dragons, they certainly seemed to want it badly.

The reasons for staying were as varied as they were numerous. Whether it was the thrill of the challenge, a family's generations old farm, a desire for freedom and self-reliance, or good old fashioned money. The vast landscape of harsh terrain was broken up by rolling berms of coarse sand, withered tree trunks, dense sage brush, cacti, and scattered boulders. Those that chose this brutal locale had to watch out for other than the occasional tumbleweed, with snakes, lizards, and coyotes comprising just a handful of the creatures to watch out for. They'd just as soon kill a man as a dragon might, and amounted to only a fraction of the other dangerous foes.

In addition to frightening animals and rugged terrain, Lone Star also had the distinction of being home to the largest deposit of petroleum in the western hemisphere and, arguably, the world. It was that precious black gold which fed Equestria's increasingly automobile dependent economy. Gasoline produced in Lone Star allowed trucks to haul goods from one place to another, or powered the tractors and other vital agricultural equipment which fed the nation, and had thus made it one of the most economically influential, and vitally strategic, provinces in all of Equestria. By comparison, the dragons had little use for oil or gasoline, their primary desire in the territory was plunder, taken from those hard working people that made the brutal landscape their home. Even if the people of Lone Star just packed up and left, all they'd be doing was inviting the dragons to move further up north.

Stretching through the seemingly endless expanse of heat and sun bleached bones was a lengthy dirt road, the only demarcation between Equestria and the Dragonlands. On one side the widely untouched wilds of dragon territory, on the other...? The steadily undulating heads of pump-jacks, their rust streaked faces illuminated by the dwindling embers of a setting sun. It was almost too fitting a backdrop for the occupants of an embattled town, some twenty miles north of the Equestrian border. The small settlement found itself wreathed by a thirty foot pentagonal wall of sand-weathered steel-reinforced concrete.

The walls and their respective lunettes were manned by a dwindling number of men in rugged farming and ranching attire, though many of them also sported bloodied bandages in one form or another. Nearly every one of them wore a cattleman's hat, those that didn't wore a mix of baseball caps, campaign hats, and their grandfathers' faded blue kepis. Whipping about in an easterly breeze, tattered, singed, and shot torn, two separate flags stood resolute beside these men... One was the unmistakable banner of Equestria, their beloved homeland, while the other belonged obviously to their second love... Lone Star itself.

For those keeping watch for that evening territory, primarily the depleted Stonehaven Chapter of the Lone Star Homeguard, it wasn't difficult to spot an oncoming raiding party. The first thing an observer would notice was the rising cloud of dust in the distance, to small to be a dust storm, but too large to be a vehicle of any kind. Then came the noise, the clattering of steel and rumble of feet... Finally, there was the unmistakable glinting of steel, either from their weapons, their armor, or their helmets. What they lacked in subtlety the more than made up for in sheer tenacity.

Typically it took a great deal to force the dragons away, either a sizable formation of massed firepower or the arrival of reinforcements... At present, the men standing atop the walls had neither of these things. It was rare for dragons to attack as day was turning to dusk, but every now and then they'd pull a surprise incursion, just to see if they could catch the Homeguard flatfooted. Stonehaven had so far withstood two successive raids in the previous hours, and the considerably frazzled community of salt miners, ranchers, and rock farmers were barely holding on by a thread.

Had the dragons held off until the night, they might very well have succeeded in finally breaching the towns defenses. Observers first spotted the plume an hour or two before sundown, but it'd still be some time before Homeguard reinforcements arrived from the Calico Chapter. That left roughly forty men as all that stood between the raiders and their homes, not counting those too badly wounded to climb the ladder rungs to their positions. These were held in reserve within the town itself, prepared to mount one final desperate defense should the worst come to past.

For Olivine, a proud Lone Star native and one of the few unwounded members of the Stonehaven Chapter, it was the waiting that struck him as the hardest part, something he'd never considered before signing up. He'd heard countless stories from his grandpa growing up, about the rough and tumble days known as the 'Siege of Mission Hill'. For thirteen days, Olivine's grandpa, one-hundred-ninety Lone Star Rangers, and half a dozen assorted militia chapters held off a horde of fourteen-hundred Reavers.

They'd holed themselves up in an old Ornithian mission atop a sizable hill, surrounded on all sides, armed only with muzzle loaders and a handful of bronze five-pounder cannons... According to the old man, it would often take close to a dozen volleys of musket fire to halt an enemy advance. They would just keep coming, swords clashing, teeth gnashing, some even picking up rifles from fallen Rangers.

The siege was finally broken when the 'Blue Bellies', a name derived from the distinctive blue uniforms worn by Territorial Garrison troops, finally arrived from Calico. They'd scythed through the Reavers with then state-of-the-art 'Trap Door Rifles', 'Lever Repeaters', and 'Gatling Guns', each firing the mighty .45-70 Government round. Olivine wouldn't have minded having some of those heavier museum pieces now... In fact the town's gunsmith was at that very moment attempting to re-militarize the 'decorative' twelve-pounder that, up until that afternoon, inhabited Stonehaven's town square.

Ever since he'd first heard the story of the Siege of Mission Hill, back when he was still bouncing on the old man's knee, Olivine had known that there'd never be any sort of peace when it came to the people of Lone Star and the dragons. The Princesses had tried to negotiate with the 'Great Clans', but what good had that done so far? The smaller clans paid the treaties no heed, and the Great Clans refused to police their underlings. Equestria would in turn offer diplomatic protests, but these were unexpectedly disregarded, and in the long run nothing ever changed.

The people of Stonehaven were relying on the Homeguard to hold the line, and by Luna's stars they'd hold. The scaly bastards would have to kill every damn person on the wall if they wanted to get past. Others around the country thought it would be better to just comply, to just give the thieving dragons what they wanted so they'd leave. The people of Lone Star knew better. This war of theirs, and it was, in fact, a war, had been raging since the days of Olivine's great-great-great-great-great grandpa. The only way their homes would ever be safe was if they did the job themselves, and that meant planting as many of the wily lizards in the ground as was humanly possible.

A lot had changed in the decades since the unforgettable Siege of Mission Hill, with many of the disparate militias combining together to form the Homeguard, pooling their resources to operate as cohesively as possible. Their ranks swelled, their training was standardized, and each member hardened themselves with the knowledge that they were the first and last line of defense for everything the held dear. The Homeguard gained further advantages through tactics and superior equipment.

Automatic and semi-automatic weapons were far more effective than the cumbersome slow firing single-shot breach loaders of their grandfathers' age, though there were still a fair number of those reserved as 'emergency arms'... Emergency Arms that were presently being distributed among those few women that didn't already own some form of firearm, so as to defend themselves and the town's children in the event the barbarians breached the gates.

Olivine had learned all too well in his first brush with a small band of raiders a few months ago how vital the advantages of superior firepower were. Being maneuverable enough and having sufficient firepower to counter the dragons' sheer brawn had thus far proven the deciding factor in every raid this season. Whoever could move the most guns into position the quickest typically came out on top, and whether a given town would be protected or pillaged could decided by margins of deployment as slim as thirty seconds. Tonight, it seemed they didn't have enough men or enough firepower, but that didn't mean they were set to lose either. Positioning was just as important, if not more so, than sheer numbers.

The tactic for the coming skirmish was simple, to lure the enemy into the narrow gully between the two sizable rock formations, which was also the most direct route to Stonehaven. The defenders had been given enough time to dig and conceal several charges of dynamite, wrapped in nails, ball bearings, and any other scrap metal could be gathered. These were hidden in and around the designated 'Kill Zone', the place in which the defenders would concentrate their fires to inflict maximum casualties. Hopefully the combined explosives and withering fire would break the dragons' resolve, otherwise they'd be in for quite a fight.

It was atop one of the lunettes that Olivine currently found himself leaning against one of the wall's merlons, quietly kicking himself for being so eager to volunteer for duty atop the wall... He was quite handy with a needle when the need arose, having spent a good amount of time with Fiddly Twang. Not only just about the best fiddle player anyone had seen in these parts, she was also the town's closest thing to a Doctor. As such, Olivine really would've been better suited to help with the inevitable wounded, but... Between their fortifications and several miracles of modern technology, serious injuries had been surprisingly light. As such, Fiddly generally had things covered, and in a moment of weakness Olivine found himself afflicted by that most ancient, and often fatal, malady... A desire to impress the girl he liked.

It was a bit more complicated than that... Stonehaven was remarkably 'restrained', to put things delicately, and most of the women there were about as inviting to talk to as a patch of cacti. Fiddly was different. She'd spent a good deal of her younger years living with her cousin or some such, some artsy type from Trottingham, who'd taught the woman everything one could possibly want to know about a fiddle, and helped instilled a far less puritanical outlook than one might expect within Stonehaven's walls. Suffice to say, there were quite a few fellas that'd taken notice...

Olivine wasn't interested so much in her physical qualities as he was in her atypical stores of knowledge. She had all sorts of weird notions, such as washing one's hands or wearing gloves while operating. What really drew him in was that she had actual reasons for each of these notions, reasons that she found no qualms with elaborating on in great detail when properly prodded. Often times Olivine didn't understand half the stuff she said at first, but she said it with such confidence that he didn't doubt for a moment it was true.

Fiddly had that trio of things so many people he knew in Stonehaven lacked. A brain, a rapier tongue, and aspirations for more than the 'hand-to-mouth' existence that persisted throughout the town. Much as Olivine loved his hometown, there wasn't much for him in terms of future prospects. Fiddly often indicated that she felt much the same, and once again had all these weird inclinations that the young man, in all honesty, was curious to experience as well.

So, like an idiot, Olivine thought the best way to impress her was to volunteer to fight on the wall... The same exact thing the other half-dozen guys interested in her had done. From the elevated perch offered by the lunette, he and a trio of older men, miners mostly, stood watching the oncoming horde... All four of them had cigarillos dangling from their lips, in Olivine's case the smoke coiled upwards against the brim of his campaign hat before wafting away on the breeze.

Olivine could feel the wall rumbling from the earth now... There had to be at least two or maybe even three-hundred dragons, though thankfully these didn't appear to be of a winged variety. Nonetheless they'd closed the distance, and it wouldn't be long before the 'manure hit the fan', to use one of his grandfather's old paraphrased cavalry metaphors...

His grip on his weapon tightened with every minute he felt them draw closer. The gun had been a gift from his Chapter Commander, a brand new PM-72A, fresh from the factory at Maksym Field. It'd been a reward for Olivine's courage in a particularly nasty scrape a week or so ago. There were some ergonomic modifications that'd been made that differed from the original PM-72, specifically a sturdier under-folding stock, but every mechanical piece of his weapon remained the essentially the same.

The PM-72 was unlike any weapon he'd used before, and indeed it'd made him the object of envy from many of his fellow guardsmen that were stuck with old shotguns and hunting rifles... It was light, easy to maintain, and a powerful force multiplier. That wasn't to say the weapon were perfect, as the earlier models had a wire stock that was too thin and uncomfortable for use in sustained engagements. It wasn't helped that the company that made them was evidently owned by a dragon, but then again, Olivine supposed not all dragons had to be bad guys... Princess Orzel was a dragon, and she seemed pretty supportive of the Homeguard, though... No one had seen or heard from her in a while, and that was a little... Well... Weird. Not that it was all that important at present.

Every submachine gunner in the Chapter, heck, every submachine gunner in the Homeguard, was running their PM-72 with rounds known as '.45 Basilisk', another product provided by Basilisk Defense Technologies to the Homeguard for their continued defense of Lone Star. The rounds were visually distinct from standard .45 ACP cartridge, as while they possessed a typical copper jacket, they also sported a brass penetrating tip and an unseen heavier steel core. To compensate for the increased weight, the propellant packed a great deal more energy, courtesy of some additive called 'Stabilized Sokolite'. The reasons for the round's modification would soon make themselves evident, whenever the word was given to spring the trap.

The enemy was closing with reduced speed, the clattering of steel and iron slowing from an outright sprint to a more orderly march. Olivine flipped open the dust cover and double checked his weapon was loaded. Even in the gathering darkness, the young man could see the shimmering brass penetrator glittering malevolently, eager for the moment to strike. Several rifles thundered along the wall, the rounds whizzing just a few feet over the heads of the invaders... They were hoping to provoke the dragons back into their sprint, just enough to get them to rush in and retaliate. In just a few moments they'd pass through the gulley, up the sandy dirt road, over the explosive charges.

The enemy's armor rattled noisily, but their movements remained orderly and calm, something that proved more unnerving than if they'd come straight on. These raiders had more discipline, and generally that also meant they possessed a higher strategic acumen. He could hear their voices now, shouting and roaring, surging inexorably on towards the wall at a modest pace... Just a few more seconds and they'd pass right into the trap. The men situated along the walls took aim, awaiting the signal to open fire. The typical method of doing so was akin to hunting turkeys, focusing on those at the rear so the ones in front didn't realize what was happening right away.

The only people in any position to lay into the enemy were those equipped with hunting rifles, shotguns, and a few surplus AARs purchased at a discount from BDT. A good number of those hunting rifles had been converted to fire another development of the company, the '7.62x39mm' cartridge. Billed as the 'Younger Brother' of the venerable .30-06, it'd already earned a grisly reputation among the Homeguard... It was fast enough to punch through dragon armor and their notoriously thick hides, but unlike its 'Big Brother' it dumped all its energy at once, tumbling about inside the body, tearing through the vital organs. According to Fiddly, whom had performed several autopsies on raiders slain by the new cartridge, 'That round makes mince meat of a man's innards'.

From the western lunette there arose a shrill trumpeting bugle, the signal for the Homeguard to take cover behind the crenelations, which Olivine and his fellows in the lunette did readily. Casting a look down into Stonehaven proper, Olivine spotted the local schoolmarm and a myriad of her feminine compatriots rolling the twelve-pounder into position, aiming it squarely at the town's battered steel gate. The local gunsmith, being the most knowledgeable in regards to such things, shoved a powder charge down its barrel... Then he walked the women through the process of loading and firing the weapon. In this case, they were stuffing nails and bits of silverware down the barrel, essentially turning the weapon into a giant shotgun. It was a museum piece, after all, and few people had spare twelve pound cannonballs laying around.

"Equestrians!" A rough accented voice erupted from a large muscular fellow at the front of the approaching dragon raiding party, by now they were moving past the corpses of those slain in the previous hours. The flies were already having their fill, but the strewn bodies did little to halt the enemy's advance. Just a few more feet. "The leader of Clan Adakite commends your fighting spirit, but spirit alone will not preserve you from a third assault! Lay down your arms and submit, and we shall spare your-"

The air was rent by a tremendous thundering explosion, strong enough that Olivine could feel it in his chest, even hiding behind the concrete. Two further explosions followed in quick succession, the man could only imagine the improvised shrapnel tearing through draconic bodies, likely reducing the raid leader and all those around him to the consistency of oatmeal. A few moments later the town was bombarded with rocks, pebbles, and chunks of eviscerated bodies. A severed hand landed no less than a foot from Olivine, who quickly nudged it off the wall with his foot.

It was rare for the enemy to offer terms of surrender, but when they did it usually meant they were just about spent. This would no doubt be the end of tonight's raids by 'Clan Adakite', all the defenders had to do was break their resolve. Decapitating their command structure was usually enough to force a rout, but from the sounds of things they were still managing enough cohesion to continue the attack...

Somewhere over the tumult arose the blaring call of the bugle, the signal to spring the trap. Olivine and the others peered out at the enemy from behind cover, watching the screaming horde of bloodied dragons surging remorselessly through a cloud sand. They'd just entered into a world of swirling dust and fading daylight, and through the haze it was possible for Olivine to see scores of dragons laying on the ground, downed either by the mounting fire from the wall or the explosive charges. Many of them were groaning or picking themselves up, but just as many remained still.

The raiders were armored as one might expect a civilization that survived by stealing from others to feed themselves, with lots of leather, and thick battle dented steel armor, as well as the helmets which afforded them slots for their horns to emerge. Olivine and his comrades, by comparison, all sported the latest body armor to hit the market. Rated to stop anything most pistol rounds, shrapnel, and shotgun shells, and far lighter than the 'homemade' solutions that'd previously been available. Hopefully the armor would be unnecessary...

Through the clearing dust it became clear the dragons were attempting to close on the wall, likely in an attempt to scale it. A series of large rocks, dislodged by the explosions, had closed off the gully and in so doing limited the enemy's chances of escape. It was difficult to tell exactly how many dragons remained in fighting shape in the fading daylight, but there were at least a hundred, maybe more. It would be virtually impossible to miss at this range, especially with the enemy so tightly clustered together as they charged the town's wall. Olivine didn't recognize the clan markings they wore, or the name Adakite for that matter, so he could only guess this was some new upstart faction...

They probably didn't know what they were getting into when they'd started out, but the Homeguard was all too eager to teach them what happened when savages forgot who this land belonged to. All of them were so blindly focused on getting through the wall, getting to their precious plunder, that they remained totally ignorant of the tartarus that was about to rain down upon them.

Without giving the enemy a chance to recognize that they were now utterly trapped, Olivine and his fellows raised their weapons, picked a part of the mob, and squeezed the trigger. The bolt released and sprang forward, scooping the waiting round off the top of the magazine and slamming it into the chamber. A sudden and steady stream of hot copper and brass sleeted through the air, heralded by a rumbling staccato 'Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!'. The weapon's rate of fire was a tad more increased on account of the more powerful rounds, but Olivine had little trouble managing the commensurate recoil.

The dragons didn't the effect the fire was having at first, only that a good many of their number had been felled in a matter of moments. The confusion was doubled when the remainder of the men on the wall emerged with their own complement of submachine guns and AARs. They chewed through the remaining enemy, scything them down row after row, adding to the growing sense of confusion instilled within the raiding party. For a few moments they all just stopped in place, collectively taking in the carnage playing out around them, some of them even lowering their swords a tad. Olivine took the opportunity to swiftly exchange his nearly empty magazine for a fresh one, taking it from a pouch affixed by several buttons to his OUBC.

In a matter of seconds the hoard of raiding dragons transitioned from blood thirsty rage to full blown panic, and almost as one they threw themselves at the wall with renewed ferocity. They had no other route of escape but to breach the wall. Some of them cast their weapons aside, others appeared to try and tear away their armor, seeking to ditch anything that might impede their ability to climb. Their rout took them right into the waiting teeth of the Homeguard's spider weapons, and just as many of them were lost clamoring over one another as had been lost in the first salvo. Now they were screaming in terror, jolting, pushing, shoving each other aside in their frantic bid to survive.

The wall vibrated and trembled from the combined weight and strength being hurled against it, soon exacerbated by several gouts of flame that charred the face of the concrete. Olivine managed to pull away just in time to avoid having his face set alight, though he did unfortunately drop his cigarillo. Casting another look at the twelve-pounder, he saw the women were making ready to fire... Odds were the dragons were having far more luck melting through the gate than they were the concrete.

The next few minutes were a descent into chaos as one after another, the dragons gradually managed to gain the top of the wall. Olivine and his fellows in the lunette staved them off for as long as possible, while somewhere in the background he heard the deep bellowing roar of the twelve-pounder, followed by an oddly satisfying combined wail of pain.

One of the dragon's that'd reached the top of the wall charged straight at Olivine, eyes wide in panic, a flintlock pistol still clutched his trembling hand. He couldn't have been much older than his Equestrian foe, nineteen or twenty at most. The raider seemed far more interested in running forward than he was in fighting, at least until he spotted the young Equestrian defenders standing in his way. The other men had their hands full fending more wall climbers off, and that left Olivine more or less on his own. Realizing that he'd have to go through the young man to escape, the dragon raised his flintlock and fired, doing so before his target could get a shot off...

The round smashed into Olivine's chest, knocking the wind out of him and sending him sprawling onto his back, before he found himself tumbling painfully down off the wall. His fall was broken by the wooden roof of a small store house situated close by, which he proceeded to smash through before landing atop a pile of cattle feed sacks. As an Earth-Walker, he was able to absorb most of the impacts without risk of a major injury, though that didn't stop him from enduring quite a bit of pain.

For a solid thirty seconds he remained motionless, staring up through the ruined ceiling at the darkening sky. Not only was he struggling to catch his breath, he was also taking stock of any injuries he'd endured. His left eye was filled with blood, likely from the cut above it, and he'd certainly be sore for the next couple days, but that was the worst of it... Considering what'd preceded his fall through the roof, he'd be able to live with that... Mainly because he'd be able to live. The shot must've cracked a rib or something, but the 'Light Ballistic Plate' he wore in his OUBC had done its job.

It took him a couple more moments to roll off the pile of feed sacks, groaning as he did so, before unceremoniously landing on the wooden floor with a weighty thud. Pushing himself up onto his hands and knees, Olivine shakily managed to reach his feet. Taking in the dark interior of the unassuming store room, the young man grabbed the campaign hat that'd fallen from his head, then picked up his PM-72A. From the looks of things, the weapon had taken quite a few lumps along the way down, but a quick examination revealed it remained able to fire.

From the sound of things outside, the dragons had finally managed to breach the wall... The dragons and defenders were yelling at one another, rifles and shotguns roared, and somewhere above it all Olivine heard a woman screaming. Racking back the charging handle, the young man narrowed his eyes and booted open the storehouse's front door. What awaited him was Stonehaven, his home, in the throws of a dragon raid. Several buildings were already burning, the twelve-pounder's carriage had been shattered, and the raiders were starting to pour through the still glowing melted gate... They had yet to get enough of their forces through to gain a foothold, and once again it seemed the fate of the battle would be decided by a matter of seconds.

Olivine leveled his weapon at the hole in the gate, just as a trio of raiders squirmed through, weapons in one hand and burlap sacks in the other. One of them leveled another flintlock at Olivine's chest. Having had his helmet knocked away in the fighting, it was more than possible for the young man to see his arrogant smirk. He fired, and once again the young man was staggered by a punishing blow to the chest, this time striking lower on the plate. Rather than lose his footing as he had before, Olivine planted his feet widely and leveled his PM-72A at the growing number of raiders moving through the hole. The dragon that'd fired lost his smirk, his eyes going wide at the sight of the SMG.

From that point on Olivine saw nothing but red, his entire world became bathed in the muzzle flashes of his weapon, all he heard was the thunderous report and the roars of the advancing dragons. As far as he knew, it was just him against them, the last line of defense. Ejected shell casings cartwheeled through the air, his nostrils burned with the acrid smell of spend propellant, and the world around him gradually grew to resemble some twisted form of reality. Empty magazines piled up at his feet, at one point he was once again struck in the chest by another flintlock, but even that wasn't enough to stop him.

One of the dragon raiders managed to storm through the hail of bullets, drawing back his talon studded hand, prepared to make a slash at Olivine's throat just as he was in the midst of reloading. Without missing a beat, the young man ducked, clenched his fist tightly around the pistol grip of the PM-72A, and swung it upwards between his foe's legs with all his adrenaline enhanced might. The dragon froze abruptly in place, emitting a high pitched keening wail of pain, claws mere inches from Olivine's throat.

The young man let go of the SMG, allowing it to clatter to the ground while seamlessly reaching to a leather holster he wore at his belt. From it he drew an old 'cap-and-ball' revolver, the very same revolver his grandpa had carried with him at the Siege of Mission Hill. Notching back the hammer, he leveled the pistol squarely between the dragon's pain filled wide eyes. Without hesitation, without remorse, Olivine squeezed the trigger. A puff of flames and dense white smoke concealed the effects at first.

The newly perforated raider lingered in front of Olivine for a moment, hand frozen mid-swing, before limply crumpling forward like a sack of potatoes. The .44 caliber ball had thoroughly penetrated the raider's helmet, filling the piece of headgear with a substance that somewhat resembled crushed raspberries. Turning his attention back to the hole in the gate, Olivine could see the dragons rapidly fleeing outside, whilst others stood in stunned silence at what, to them, might as well have appeared to be a cold-blooded point-blank execution.

"Toss down them guns!" Olivine shouted, his typically reedy voice having become as dry as sandpaper from all the smoke he'd been inhaling. He swung his aim at the dragons that'd frozen in place. "Ya bastards deef?! I said toss 'em!" The man once again drew back the hammer, in so doing rotating the cylinder and preparing the weapon once more for action. "Do it!" The raiders hesitated for another second, so Olivine shot one square in the gut. He toppled to the ground, curled up in a ball, just as the young man drew back the hammer again.

The remaining raiders hurriedly threw down their arms as Olivine took several steps forward. As was the case with most dragons, he wasn't nearly as tall as them, so it must've been an odd sight to see so many big strong men suddenly cowed in such a fashion... In the reasoning was down to two things. Firstly, they'd already put three shots into him and he hadn't fallen, what were the odds a forth would do any better. Secondly, he was the only one remaining at the gate that held a gun. With their swords and burlap sacks, empty burlap sacks, tossed on the ground, Olivine's eyebrows once again furrowed.

"Tell yer whole clan that Stonehaven's off limits! Ya come round here again, the only thing yer liable to get is a tombstone!" The man roared in a voice that didn't seem his own, indeed he wasn't quite sure of what he was doing himself... If anything, he sounded more like his grandfather... "Ya understand me!?" The raiders nodded frantically. "Then run ya mangy curs! Run!" And so they ran, clamoring over one another to squirm back through the gate, and out into the protective cloak of night.

Olivine held his weapon on the whole in the gate for a good thirty seconds before lowering the hammer and slipping the weapon back into his holster. The shaken defender moved swiftly towards the hole in the gate, peeking outside and surveying the scene. Only thirty minutes had passed since the first shots were fired, but the outcome of the skirmish was hardly in doubt. Even in the coming darkness, it was clear that the raiding party had been sent running back where they'd come from.

The gunfire from the defenders that'd managed to retake the wall tapered off to nothingness, and for a few moments, between the dust and the darkness, Olivine couldn't tell what was going on around him. All he could hear was his heart pounding in his ears, coupled with the high pitched ringing that tended to follow discharging a firearm without ear protection. Gradually things began to clear up, and his ears were treated to dozens of pained groans from the fallen dragons piled within the kill zone, joined by the distant chirping of insects, the crackling timbers of the burning buildings, and a steady southerly breeze. The twin flagpoles still stood resolute, and though the banners that flew atop them more resembled ragged pieces of fabric, they nonetheless remained. The air was heady with a mixing aroma of sand, blood, charcoal, and hot steel...

"Anyone wounded?!" A man shouted from atop the wall, there was a chorus of yells responding 'Negative!'.

"Caught a couple in the plate, Chief, but ah reckon Ah'll live!" Olivine shouted somewhat shakily, it seemed there were nine other men that'd taken similar impacts, but none that'd had the projectile actually punch through. Looking down at where he'd been hit, Olivine undid the buttons sealing the OUBC pouch, then removed the plate carried within. Looking it over in the fading twilight, the young man couldn't keep from blanching. Five smushed .54 Caliber lead balls had embedded themselves in the tightly woven fiberglass and epoxy resin laminate... He'd only recognized three shots, evidently that number had been distorted by the fog of war...

The quintet of bullets had resulted in a massive bulge in the rear of the half inch thick plate. Had he not been wearing it, the balls easily would've gone right through his heart or other vital organs. Wandering back from the gate and into the town proper, Olivine stopped to pick up the PM-72 he'd discarded. The dust cover appeared to have been bent as a result of the weapons impromptu use as a club, but otherwise the weapon again appeared to be in perfect working order.

"We lose anyone?!" Several moments passed and again, much to Olivine's genuine shock, there was another chorus of surprised 'Negative!'. It must've struck the Chapter Commander as well, because again the area fell into stunned silence. "We sent a raiding party screamin' for their mommas, and we didn't lose a single goldarn man!?"

He confirmed again, again the answer was surprisingly clear. Fiddly Twang, whom it was later revealed had been holed up in the town's saloon with the women and children following the destruction of the twelve-pounder, gave the ultimate confirmation. No fatalities, no major injuries, just a few minor scrapes, burns, and bruises... Then again, that might've been a bit of a premature determination, as Fiddly would later recommend Olivine seek hospitalization in Calico, especially seeing as he'd lost his left eye... That was a problem that'd only materialize in the morning, not the jubilant victorious present.

It wasn't every day the Homeguard sent the raiders running without losing a man, and so despite the burning buildings and near loss of the town, a great roaring sound of triumph arose from the group. Just as the dragon clans so loved their intimidating war cries, so too did a fearsome Lone Star yell carry across the flat desert landscape. It would be loud enough to hear clear across the border, a warning to the upstart Adakite Clan that they weren't going to gain an inch without paying for it dearly. Olivine added his youthful reedy voice to the call as he withdrew a new cigarillo from a metal case in his pocket. His was as confident and jubilant as all the others, even as he felt the massive purple bruise beginning to form beneath his t-shirt.

Though a few houses had been lost, no crops were be pillaged, no women or children had been harmed, and all it'd cost them was a few thousand rounds of ammunition, some dynamite, and a few Ballistic Plates. If the raiders wanted to turn around and find out just what the Homeguard was really made of, they were more than welcome to come back and bleed themselves some more... Hopefully, whoever was responsible for developing the 'Ballistic Plate' was working on something else, because even with the coming end of the Raiding Season, the Homeguard still needed all the help they could get.

Orzel stared up at the wood lined ceiling of her new room, slowly taking in her first few moments of consciousness through an all pervasive fog of drowsiness. Gently hugging Wojtek to her chest, she soaked in the comforting geothermal heat that permeated her bed chamber. Judging by the dim pink hues of sunlight pouring through the east facing wall of windows, she suspected the time to be around six in the morning. The teen's mind had been racing just minutes before, parsing through the oddest of dreams... This one was particularly noteworthy, as it wasn't an inherent nightmare about the burning of Cesarski, nor did it relate to her deeper fears, as was most often the case.

In essence, she'd found herself running late for an exam of some sort, searching high and low through a school, worried out of her mind... Then she'd remembered that at no time, past or present, had she attended an actual academic institution. More importantly, she'd already gotten her diploma, and had no current intention of attending a traditional university, so what reason did she possibly have to be concerned over an exam? This train of sudden logical thought was ultimately what shattered the frightening illusion that she would miss her exam. There was no exam to miss, because there was no school to attend...

The realization that she was dreaming gave her a considerable amount of control over said dream's direction. Thus had begun another tentative step into the realm of 'lucid dreaming', a skill Mother had alluded would be necessary for Orzel to later take on the role of 'Warden of Dreams'. She'd accomplished the feat before, mostly on accident, but there was evidently some magical means of doing so intentionally. According to Mother, it couldn't be taught as traditional magic could, because every dreamer was different. Much as Orzel disliked the murkiness of that answer, Mother had the somewhat annoying habit of typically being right when it came to dreams. Given that the only limitation was the dreamer's imagination, the teen could certainly see the appeal doing so in a lucid state could provide.

In this instance, Orzel had conjured a far more comforting dream, a vast and endless library, styled much as a Lexican temple in general architecture. More importantly, she'd instituted nigh universal order upon her dreamscape. From that order came discipline, and from discipline came control. Every book had been efficiently shelved, every table and chair aligned with precise care. Not a single speck of dust or scrap of paper was out of its proper place... It was glorious... Harmonious... Divine.

Now that she'd awoken, the vision of that perfect library was fading to the ashes of the Princess's memory. It, like so many others lately, had been a surprisingly pleasant one... Where once she'd been accustomed to facing unspeakable monsters every night, or perhaps even becoming the monster, now they tended to be... Strange. They were coherent, unlike typical dreams, and at times could be just as vivid as reality itself. The only reason Orzel could see for the recent change in the nature of her dreams was the near Elemental Transformation she'd undergone three months ago...

Thankfully there hadn't been any further 'transformations', near or otherwise, since her little uncontrolled outburst on the train to Unicorn Point. The mere thought of that outburst, and consequently the news that'd brought her to the brink of transforming, shook Orzel from her half-dozing stupor and back into the spiritually cold and chaotic reality of the waking world. The danger, the uncertainty, all the result of the unseen threat of the 'Changelings'. Sometimes Orzel wished she could just leave Equus entirely, maybe go to the moon, or another planet, if only for a short time... The world was getting crazier with every passing morning, but even as a Princess there was little she could do about it.

Turning her attention to a small clock resting on her bedside table, she picked it up and brought it to within less than half an inch from her eye... Squinting heavily, she managed to confirm that it was, indeed, nearly six in the morning... Five-fifty-nine, actually. Reaching over, Orzel replaced the clock onto the nightstand and flipped a switch on the side, preventing the alarm from sounding. She was already awake, after all, and the noise tended to set her on edge.

The bed she'd been provided was as comfortable as the one in Canterlot, possibly even more, so given the entire chamber could be heated to a far greater temperature than her tower back home. It wasn't perfect, as she didn't at present have a large enough hoard to lounge upon. She had a lot books, certainly, but the amount that was sufficient enough to bring on a state of Hoard Slumber increased exponentially with every change her body underwent. She could've gotten by with a smaller pile of gold and gems, but books were lighter, and therefore cheaper, to ship. Rubbing the last vestiges of sleep from her eyes, Orzel flung off the heavy comforter with the faintest of groans. Yawning quietly, the Princess swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat up.

Squinting in response to the sunlight gradually filling the room, she blindly felt about her bedside table for her spectacles. Fumbling and patting impatiently, all she managed to do was knock them to the floor, as was typical of nearly every morning. Suppressing an annoyed sigh, the Princess slipped out of her bed and knelt on the cold stone floor, further feeling for the troublesome eye wear. Between the shadow cast so sharply from the sunlit window and the floor tile's dark coloration, the eyewear may as well have been invisible to her. She really needed to put a string on them or something... Maybe it might even be time to see about getting a pair of those newfangled 'Contact Lenses' she was hearing about in the news, though she could only imagine the trouble that'd arise trying to find one if she drop it.

After two or three minutes of undignified feeling around, the Princess finally managed to find her spectacles beside the leg of her nightstand. Once they were in her grasp she slotted them onto her nose, and the bedroom came into focus as Orzel pushed herself up on her feet. For a brief instant she was struck by just how fast she was starting to come and see it as 'hers'... Not in the sense that it was where she slept, but that it was actually hers. This wasn't the first time she'd had such thoughts either, they'd been quite common after she first moved into her tower, but... She was all alone here, and Orzel wasn't wholly sure she liked the idea of getting used to that.

A wall of glass windows provided more than enough light, while a rough rocky alcove beyond the panes contrasted nicely with the royal blue interior walls. The distant sound of nature echoed dully throughout the layout of her massive bedchamber, a room larger even than her bedchamber atop her tower. The room's decor had a distinctly antiquarian maritime theme to it, which in all honesty brought Orzel back in time... Her family's estate had been decorated in much the same way.

Wood and leather furniture brought the room a sort of rustic feel, further complimented by old brass navigational instruments, paintings of various sailing ships or seascapes, the blueprints for an old submarine, and a series of Captains' hats from varying eras, arranged from oldest to newest atop a mahogany armoire. Mother had since sent along several of Orzel's favorite model ships, including ESS Magnus and ESS Sokol, which fit in quite well among all the other items. There was also a stylized map of the island itself, which was the largest member of Pulauapi Atoll... The map she'd been given to study on her initial journey was only of Pulauapi proper, not the entire Pulauapi chain, which included close to two dozen smaller islets and assorted coral reefs.

In addition to her bed, other amenities included a large leather button-back reading chair, decorative rugs, a phonograph, a drafting table, not to mention half a dozen ornately decorated bookcases. All of which were stocked with volumes, covering everything from ancient arcane studies to Zebrican history. Lastly, but most importantly, was her new desk, which was absolutely huge. It was situated near the reading area, affording a decent view of the island beyond the windows. Hewn from wood provided by one of the innumerable sturdy cengal trees that choked the island jungles.

Distinguished, lovingly hand crafted, the desk offered plenty of drawers and finely polished brass embellishments. Here she could examine expense reports, research notations, security briefings, and all the other important papers an aspiring monarch might have to deal with on a daily basis. Piled atop its mirror smooth surface were neat and orderly folders, as well as a calender, journal, desk lamp, and assorted knick-knacks Orzel had added for decoration. Included among them was a model of a bronze field gun, a small stone idol she'd discovered on one of her walks, and the fully assembled model rocket Spike had given her for Hearth's Warming Eve.

The more Orzel thought about it, the room's overall appearance felt like it'd been summoned directly from her imagination. It was just the bed chamber that suffered from this strange effect, for the entire residence was adorned as one might expect of an antagonist from one of her favorite jungle adventure novels might live in. Orzel hadn't realized she'd admire such a brooding and intimidating aesthetic until she saw it for herself, which only made her wonder just how whomever had set up the residence could've known that was what she'd actually want, especially when she didn't even know as much.

Straightening her tank top and adjusting her sweat pants, the girl moved to the glass sliding door leading out onto a balcony, an alcove recessed into the living rock of the island's volcano. The door slid easily to the side, filling the room with the sound of a jungle awakening to a new dawn. In came the island breeze, carrying with it the distant smells of Pulauapi, and all the delightfully tasty creatures that inhabited it. Orzel had already sampled a portion of the local fauna, but by far the most common animal that'd wound up on her plate recently was wild boar.

Like their brethren throughout many other islands in this region, the wild boars of Pulauapi were a somewhat invasive species, which had been seeded there by explorers centuries ago. The thinking among the explorers was that if their ships ever sank, they might happen upon an island which had a population of the tasty succulent pigs, and thus have a readily available food source that could last until, hopefully, rescue arrived. Of course, these explorers hadn't thought to take the pigs with them when they'd departed the region, which allowed the boars to menace most of the island's other animals with impunity... At least, up until Orzel had arrived. She had since set to culling their numbers, partially to restore balance to the island's ecosystem, and partially to fill her pantry with fresher alternatives than the canned meat and other products brought in by monthly supply ships.

There were plenty of canned goods on hand of course, and if taste was anything to go by, Orzel suspected the cans had been produced in the same year she was born. It was difficult to tell, Equestrian years were somewhat shorter than their Szafirian counterparts. In all honesty, there was just something about canned meat that unsettled the Princess's stomach. Odd, considering her draconic constitution gave her an cast-iron stomach, but it was just something about the texture and the way it was prepared that could leave her feeling queasy... Fortunately there were so many wild boar out there that needed culling. Even from her perch atop the volcano, she could smell them in their thousands...

Stepping barefoot onto the dew dampened balcony, the Princess briefly shivered in the morning cool. Brushing several strands of long hair out of her eyes, she leaned against the sturdy wrought iron railing. The rising sunlight glittered on a placid ocean, whose rolling waves gently broached the island's shores. There was something about the sunrise at this particular latitude that made it especially beautiful, bathing the world beneath in its warming glow. The island was practically vibrating with the sound of nature, and prismatic birds of countless spectacular colors soared through and above a vaporous morning mist, only to dive down into the darker depths of the verdurous jungle canopy.

The volcano itself was named Mount Raven, in honor of the cartographer that'd first mapped the island some eight-hundred years ago. All was not as it appeared when it came to the ash spewing mountain, for even its silent looming exterior could not be trusted at first glance. It was still a volcano, of course, but... Not a normal one. The Nocturne Agency had spent numerous centuries studying the atoll in the wake of its first discovery. Pulauapi and its smaller neighbors were believed to have been formerly inhabited by a civilization known to Orzel only as 'The Ancients'. According to the Agency's files, they'd been endemic to continents from West Parthenia to Amazonas and Pastora, with colonies spanning beyond the explored edges of both the Celestial and Luna Oceans.

Pulauapi was evidently one such colony, though evidence suggested it would've been placed at a far extreme of their reach. It was likely the Ancients built it as a place where scientific research could be conducted in secret, much as the Nocturne Agency used it now. The builders were as crafty as they were mysterious, having devised a mechanical means of keeping the volcano in a dormant state, while at the same time using illusion magic to give it a look of constant activity. The intent was obviously to drive away potential interlopers, and the execution of that intent was carried out by some of the most advanced technology Orzel had ever seen... The volcano's inner mechanisms were still widely unclear, but their effects spoke volumes.

For as intimidating and startling as the Ancients had managed to make the island appear, looks alone weren't enough to drive off the curious researchers of the Nocturne Agency. So it was that ever since the facility's rediscovery, the Pulauapi chain had been serving Equestria's scientific community. This service was carried out with such secrecy that even the Crown didn't know it existed, for the purposes of 'Plausible Deniability'. As far as anyone in Equestria was concerned, Pulauapi was a volcanically unstable island with little to no strategic value, and nothing of note ever happened there.

Presently, the facility was operating under the name 'Alpha Site: Raven' or just 'Site R'. The site itself was directed under the auspices of a Nocturne Agency sub-division, known as the Advanced Research Management Agency, or ARMA for short. Apparently it was what Equestrians referred to as a 'Think Tank', a collection of the finest scientific and arcane minds that could be gathered. ARMA was the most prestigious and secretive brain trust in Equestria. Those that agreed to work there were spirited away to work in uninterrupted seclusion on everything from industrial technology to, in Orzel's case, weapon's development. Fittingly enough, the acronym 'ARMA' also happened to be a Pre-Equestrian word for 'Weapon'.

ARMA also held jurisdiction over the atoll of smaller islands surrounding Pulauapi proper, most of which served as test ranges for the various gizmos and other futuristic devices ARMA's scientists came up with. In addition, there were a few archeological sites pertaining to the Ancients that once lived on them, and smaller research outposts which were intended to gather as much information about the anomalies that pervaded this small patch of the Luna Ocean. Orzel was quite glad to know she wasn't the only one to have seen ESS Avenger. It turned out the ghost ship was only the tip of a very large and unnerving iceberg, though the details of the ship's actual fate remained above Orzel's level of clearance. Secret government think tanks headquartered in mechanically stabilized volcanoes weren't the only strange things to happen in the South Luna Sea, not by a long shot.

Since first being cleared to learn the true nature of the Nocturne Agency, at least in some part, Orzel had absorbed a great deal of information about the bizarre goings-on... It'd upended many of her assertions about physical law and arcane theory, but the evidence provided was sound, and Lexicos demanded she adapt her methods of thinking accordingly. So as Orzel looked out across her new island home, she couldn't help but wonder if today would be the day she saw or learned something else that might challenge her perception of reality. That was actually one of the most exciting things about her work...

The Princess brought a hand to the pendant that still dangled about her neck as she took in the view, clasping it gently before bowing her head forward. Try as she might, she'd yet to discover what'd caused the rubies of the Monolith symbol to glow so intensely upon her approach of ESS Avenger, short of Lexicos herself willing them to do so... Orzel didn't discount that possibility. By now she'd gotten quite efficient at meditating, even without the added benefit of her hoard. For fifteen minutes she stood in silence, listening to the island's chorus and looking deeply inwards.

The morning's hunger was the primary issue she needed to address... There was a time when she would've been petrified by the sight of blood, and as far as the blood of people that still remained the case. It didn't change the fact that every dawn brought with it the instinctual craving for meat and, by extension, all the other juices that came with it. Dragon's were considered by most to be apex predators, and hunting was a need instilled by millions of years of evolution, it couldn't be ignored. That she enjoyed hunting was merely a reflection of her heritage, not the content of her character... How she handled those instincts was all that mattered.

Gradually, she'd come to see the need to indulge her predatory heritage as a means of preserving the lives of others, namely the native species of Pulauapi. That in turn allowed her to admit there were aspects of hunting she actually rather enjoyed. The calming walks through the jungle, the rush of adrenaline when prey was near, the way her instincts and her mind synchronized as she stalked through the underbrush. In finding a way to accept herself as a dragon, she'd found a mechanism by which she could accept other things that were also beyond her ability to control. Her general appearance, the actions others might take against her, and even, to a limited extent, her orientation.

It wasn't a perfect system, and it took a great deal of concerted effort, but she'd managed to alter her perception of herself to be a tad more positive. After all, being an obligate carnivore didn't mean Orzel couldn't have standards. She was not some cruel sadistic monster. The Princess's meditation ended as soon as she opened her eyes, her slitted pupils having become narrowed and focused, her face taking on its typical stoic mask. Silently offering a brief prayer of thanks to Lexicos for granting her the wisdom that came with meditation, Orzel was well and truly ready to start her day.

The first thing she saw in addition to the island was the arrival of Midnight, the black myna bird materializing on the railing with a puff of black vapor. Orzel gently scratched under the familiar's chin, prompting the bird to vocalize several cheerful tittering sounds. Working with Midnight had become far easier for Orzel, seeing as now the bird could actually talk. The more they worked together, the more fluent the bird became, to a point where they more or less could converse normally. That didn't prevent the bird from remaining quiet most of the time, apparently it just preferred silence, and only spoke up when it was absolutely necessary...

The Princess stepped back from the railing and made her way back into her room to commence what'd become her new morning routine. First and foremost, making her bed to typical exacting standards, then getting washed up. The geothermal nature of Pulauapi made for some of the best showers Orzel had ever enjoyed, with her residence being supplied with much hotter water than was available elsewhere in Site R, by special request. There were many times when she found herself spending twenty or thirty minutes at a time in the shower, just basking in water that was just about at its boiling point, with more steam than a sauna... It was about as close to actual lava as she could get without venturing to the depths of the volcano itself.

From that point onwards, it was a simple matter of getting dressed and eating breakfast. With the majority of her time being spent in her secluded subterranean laboratory of late, one with precise climate controls as requested, Orzel had taken to wearing clothes she otherwise might not have were she still working at the considerably more rustic workshop she'd set up at Maksym Field. Dull gray slacks, shiny rubber-soled shoes to reduce the risk of slips and spills, a powder blue cashmere turtleneck that Orzel had grown quite fond of, all topped off by a pristine white lab coat and typical red headscarf.

Working alone in her lab had some benefits, she wasn't nearly as self conscious about her appearance as she would've been with other people. She considered maybe, possibly, but probably not, experimenting with a combination of stockings and a knee length pencil skirt. That was becoming the style in mainland Equestria, at least according to some fashion magazines she might've perused in a moment of weakness... However, such attire wouldn't have been in keeping with the strict safety protocols she adhered to, and therefore had no place in her lab.

While her somewhat conservative attire might not not have been stylish, the clothing she'd chosen was both practical and functional, embracing utility over aesthetic. Orzel supposed there was a sort of elegant beauty to it, in that sense... Or she was just telling herself that to keep from going insane in her seclusion. There was just one thing missing from her clothing, something that was just as vital to her safety as it was her ability to work. That final component was a glossy laminated photographic ID badge that she clipped to her jacket, embedded with a small blue gemstone.

As far as anyone encountering Orzel in the halls would be concerned, rare as that might've been, she'd been assigned a false identity. To virtually everyone she encountered in Site R, including most of her guards, the girl known to the world as Crown-Princess Orzel instead had become 'Researcher Raketnaya Boyegolovka', a cover identity that included an entire false history not all that dissimilar to Orzel's, in case of any unexpected questions.

Grim and Fable had explained that keeping certain common elements between a real identity and a false one were a good means of ensuring that the person undercover could keep conversations natural, without having to think too hard on details or potentially being caught in a lie. The believability of her alter ego was helped by the fact that there were virtually no photographs of Orzel following her first transformation, and certainly none that included her more profound changes, namely the horns, tongue, and most recently patches of scales creeping in around the edges of her face.

The only problem was that operating under a pseudonym was technically a lie, and that again presented the Princess with a crisis when it came to her faith... Thinking back to her time with Seeker Topaz, she wondered what advice he might afford her if she asked. In all likelihood he'd tell her that possessing a false identity was a negligible sin, possibly even justified considering said identity was created as a means of protecting Orzel from harm. That was probably how he'd interpret the problem, if he'd see it as a problem at all, but just looking at the ID badge made her feel uneasy... This was her eternal soul she was talking about.

Seeker Topaz wasn't the only person she wished she could consult for advice. As it stood, one of her only way to contact the outside world was by way of an Arcane Beacon. Sessions with Doctor Scratch, business meetings with Piercing Gaze and the other members of BDT's senior management, or security briefings with Mother and Aunt Celestia. All of which she had scheduled at some point or another today. Beyond the Beacon there was only her continuing letters with Spike, of which there were many... Two or three each day, sent and delivered by the same spell Celestia utilized to send messages to Twilight Sparkle through Spike.

As per his latest letters, Spike was at least doing well in his new line of work as a fire fighter, having completed his basic training two months ago. Since then, he'd responded to about a surprising number of emergencies, each of varying severity. He and his fellow firemen had braved burning buildings, pulled people out of wrecked automobiles, responded to potentially hazardous gas leaks, even rescued a kitten from a tree. There'd been no fatalities as of yet, but reading about the much danger was a blessing and a curse. This was what Spike wanted to do, he wanted to help people, and Orzel was so proud of him for that... She'd just couldn't help thinking of all the things that could go wrong, all the risks that he took upon himself whenever he donned his bunker gear. The patch she'd given him had held up so far, but it could only preserve its wearer from so much...

At least Spike seemed to be in much higher spirits than before. From Orzel's perspective he was becoming a truly fine gentleman in his writing. His letters were more personal, and they came across as less restrained by his earlier fear of saying something that might offend. Orzel actually rather liked the confidence and 'take charge' attitude he was gaining through his experiences at work. There was no problem so large he couldn't overcome it, no disaster he and his comrades couldn't handle, no fire they couldn't fight.

What really caught Orzel's attention was that Spike had taken a growing interest in engineering and machining, he'd even sent her a couple rough sketches of things he was considering making... The Princess was, of course, thrilled by the prospect, but... There was also a level of guilt that accompanied it. Both Spike and Orzel shared a lot of hobbies, but there were none she knew of that she could take up as he had taken an interest in hers. He was making such an effort to connect with a field of study that she loved, while she couldn't think of anything to do in return? Really? There were plenty of other girls in Ponyville, girls he could probably find more in common with. There were times when she wondered if, maybe, she didn't deserve the amount of time Spike spent focused on her.

That was just her self-loathing talking again... Trying, and succeeding, in making her feel inadequate about her role in the relationship in every possible way... Part of that was just due to her upbringing. In the Empire it was the Lady of the House's duty to support her partner, to know everything he cared for, and to serve as his silent and subordinate assistant whenever he pursued those fields. That wasn't how things worked in Equestria, and when Orzel couldn't think of something she could take an interest in as Spike had taken an interest in her... Well? It was hard not to feel like she'd failed him in some way.

Sighing faintly, the Princess allowed Midnight to perch on her shoulder as she departed the bed chamber, out into a hallway that'd take her through her quarters. She'd been provided rather sizable accommodations, more or less an entire apartment. The residence in general was by all Orzel's metrics... Almost perfect. Again, as if it'd been designed and decorated specifically with her in mind, including more things she hadn't even known she would want... Things like a table lamp styled like a lighthouse, or a coffee table that'd been made from reclaimed deck planks from an old sailing ship. Aside from the master bedchamber and adjacent bathroom, the residence also included a kitchen, dining room, living room, guest room, office, another bathroom, and more closets than any one person could ever need. The 'office' had since been sacrificed in order to install the Arcane Beacon, as it wasn't really necessary to begin with given the size of her desk.

Whether it'd been built specifically for her, or merely was one of many other residences concealed in the carved out portions of the volcanic rock, was difficult for Orzel to say. Regardless, the aged nautical aesthetic continued throughout, even including a large bronze diving helmet on a pedestal in the living room. Sokol's sword rested in a place of honor and prominence, upon the mantle above a rather unnecessary, but visually pleasing, fireplace. That the residence, Arcane Beacon, and all the other amenities had already been prepared in such ideal fashion for her suggested that Luna, or perhaps more accurately Director Orcus, had been planning on sending Orzel away for far longer than she'd been led to believe...

The dining room smelled heavily of a lemon, as was the case virtually every morning since her first arrival here. Typically she used magic to do the bulk of the cleaning, but there was something about buffing and polishing the glossy wooden surface of the large dining room table that relaxed her, much as tinkering with appliances did. Eight open seats ran along either side, but only one, at the head of the table, ever saw much use. Incidentally, that was the only seat that had a place mat resting before it, a simple enough marker to assert that in this apartment, the head of the table was Orzel's territory... Not that there was anyone to challenge that claim.

The room shared many disconcerting similarities to that of the dining room in her lost ancestral estate, a room that Orzel had always found to be one of its best features. Stopping beside her seat, Orzel stared silently at the various decorations that prevailed throughout the apartment, her hands resting at her sides. She had all the space she could ever want, in an apartment so ideal she honestly suspected someone was actually spying on her thoughts, while every day getting to go and do the sort of work she loved, but... She was alone, and that bothered her more than she expected it would. Orzel could leave, theoretically, any time she pleased. It'd be as simple as just going out onto her balcony, mounting Fantom, and flying off to the northeast. It'd be an uncomfortable journey, likely to take her through countless storms and other danger, but it could be done.

As fun an adventure as traversing the vast unknown to get home might've sounded in the pages of a novel, to do so would be to place Equestria's Continuity of Government at risk. Orzel's subjects were counting on her to bear that weight, and for them she would... Mother at least went out of her way to make the stay as bearable as possible. If Orzel wanted something, almost anything at all, she need only tell one of her minders and they would see to it that her desire was met. In that respect, her familiar's recent change to the form of a myna bird struck her as remarkably apropos, as the words 'gilded cage' were never too far from Orzel's mind.

The most frivolous thing Orzel had requested so far was a radio, which currently rested beside the stove in the kitchen. Aside from her own voice, and that of Midnight, the radio was the only consistent company she kept. Speaking of the bird in question, Midnight fluttered onto the table, taking up residence a few feet away from the Princess's place mat. The myna just stared at Orzel, head cocked to the side, before speaking loud enough for the Princess to actually flinch...

"You are hungry! Eat!" Her fine feathered friend spoke emphatically in that strange voice of hers, shaking Orzel out of her dismal spiraling thoughts. The girl gently patted her familiar on the head, but was unable to keep a small frown from crossing her lips. The bird was correct, her empty stomach was making it all the more difficult to keep her thoughts from spiraling, so it was about time that she got to work making breakfast.

The kitchen was perhaps the only place on the island short of her lab or reading area that Orzel actually felt truly at ease. Her mind would always harken back to the various times she'd aided Sokol in preparing the day's various meals, a chore which Orzel both loved and dreaded. While the opportunity to spend time with her birth Mother was always appreciated, the act itself hadn't always been fun. Lacking the ability to see clearly, burns, cuts, and other injuries were common. More importantly, the things she learned from Sokol weren't intended to teach her for teaching sake.

Given her 'Defective' status, plus her less than stellar history of compliance with the MIS, whatever suitor her parents arranged for her to marry would expect his meals to be exceptional... An arrangement could legitimately be called off in the Empire if the bride-to-be didn't know how to cook well, or sew, or any other number of duties vital to 'making a home'. As such, Sokol didn't want to take any chances with Orzel's future.

Ironically, the girl found the skills suited her new professions, both as a future sovereign and as an arms manufacturer, quite well. It always struck Orzel as peculiar that she still practiced so many of the habits, which realistically, she had little need of now. As a Princess, she easily could've had someone else do the cooking, or the cleaning, or any number of other chores, but... This was her residence now. Sokol would expect her to keep it in order and take care of herself, just as surely as if it was the family estate. For all the differences they now shared, in faith, in politics, in matters of the heart, Orzel still hoped that her Birth Mother would be proud of her for that.

Besides, cooking was a lot like chemistry, only without the risk of blowing one's self up... Now she was just making excuses for herself, just another of the innumerable issues she'd been trying to work through. Though she had made some progress, Orzel still felt the need to justify just about everything she did... Intellectually she knew that it was fine to cook just for fun, she didn't need any reason other than she wanted to. Regardless of why she'd initially learned the skill, the fact remained that Orzel just liked cooking, and that was perfectly fine. It was okay to just... Like things. There was nothing wrong with it, she wasn't doing anything immoral or illegal, so why did she feel so guilty about doing things she liked doing?

It happened virtually all the time... Maybe it was just another way of punishing herself for being... Herself. Maybe she was just afraid of being happy...? Maybe, just maybe, she didn't think she deserved to be happy, because people like her weren't supposed to be happy. She was a Princess, the heir of the most powerful nation on the planet, but there was still that part of her deep down that whispered in insidiously into her ear.

Those thoughts, like so many others, had been the subject of many therapy sessions. Doctor Scratch, whom she met with via the Arcane Beacon, insisted that Orzel try 'positive affirmations'. Essentially positive little slogans that she was supposed to say whenever she felt a panic attack coming on, or whenever she started to give into the that voice of deepest self-hatred, as was fast becoming the case at that moment. In many ways it was like the chants she'd grown so attached to during her attendance of prayer services, albeit a little less grandiose in scale.

"I love myself. I accept myself. It is okay to be me." Orzel said quietly in her native tongue as she entered the kitchen. "I love myself. I accept myself. It is okay to be me..." She repeated, a little more forcefully this time.

Light streamed into the kitchen from a series of highly placed narrow windows, reflecting off the yellowish paint, further adding to her feeling of 'Old World' nostalgia. There were a lot of differences between Orzel's kitchen and that of her ancestral home, enough that the similarity of the layout to that room didn't have as much an effect on her. Entirely modern appliances sat interspersed among black granite counter tops and aged venerable wooden cabinets, also reclaimed from the hull of a wooden ship. The new appliances mixing with old cabinetry seemed a little incongruous at first, but now...? The look had grown on Orzel.

In many ways, she saw a lot of herself in that kitchen. The old world values of honor and duty, true honor and duty, combined with the new world values of freedom and self-determination, all coming together to form something that was greater than the sum of its parts. Having pondered enough on the merits of interior design as they pertained to her own personality, Orzel shook herself off, set her jaw, and got to work making her breakfast. The Princess settled on something simple, eggs, boar meat, and rice. She needed to load up on protein if she was going to make it through to lunch time, especially given some of the items on her schedule.

Grim and Fable had both been teaching her basic self defense techniques, just in case an infiltrator somehow managed to find Pulauapi... An admittedly frightening thought, given the number of people that interacted with her regularly tended to be limited to two or three people. The two Giants weren't surprised to learn that she'd started keeping a firearm in her satchel, in fact she'd made it a point to conceal at least one loaded handgun in every room of her residence. They'd been less than sanguine on that point, but Orzel wouldn't budge... If she was at risk of being attacked, she wanted every conceivable advantage. So the two brothers had decided they would at least help her become better prepared to defend herself without a firearm, just in case she ever found her weapon out of reach.

Her natural gifts made her more than a quick study when it came to learning to defend herself, and frankly... Orzel almost felt as if that was what she'd been born to do. Enchanting and engineering came easily to her, but not nearly as easily as learning to fight, and she wondered if maybe that was why her family had been part of the warrior caste. Seeker Topaz had been correct in that learning to fight also made meditating and controlling her emotions far easier, at least if she kept to a strict regimen of training.

The lessons were physically demanding enough to get her looking and feeling fitter than ever, and physically speaking she was probably the healthiest she'd ever been. With greater fitness came larger and more defined muscles, not to mention the added strength that accompanied such things. She was actually thrilled at her new found ability to lift entire milling machines or lathes like common household furniture. However, much like her scales, her developing muscles seemed all too unsightly to display, and so the Princess did her best to conceal them beneath long sleeves or baggy clothing wherever possible.

Spike continued to insist to the contrary in his letters, and was quite romantic about it actually. In many ways, his words served as a balm to sooth her wounded ego. He'd remind her not to judge herself based on her outward appearance, because he found her beautiful, inside and out... Then he'd try using logic, asserting that she was a dragon, not a normal Equestrian, so she should judge herself accordingly. She knew that he was right, of course, and there wasn't really anything she could to change her appearance regardless. It, like so many other things, were beyond her ability to control, and she just had to accept that...

Slowly, gradually, with Spike's encouragement she was coming to see her outward appearance in a more positive light... It was yet another sign to be hopeful, that sooner or later that insidious whispering serpent that hid in the deeper reaches of her mind would find itself finally slain. With a slight sigh, Orzel opened the fridge and started the time consuming task of preparing enough eggs, meat, and rice to feed eight people.

Running virtually automatically, her mind wandered to topics of a future concern, namely how she would spend the remainder of that day. She'd finished developing several revised variations on her proposed camouflage patterns the day before, all of which had been packaged and teleported off to Canterlot. They'd gone along with a few examples of what she hoped would be a lighter and more mobile combat uniform, first to be fielded by the Agency, and later Equestria's general armed forces. There was little else to do on the project until she heard back about any revisions the Nocturne Agency wanted, so she could check that off the list.

She had a few runic schematics that needed her dictated notes recorded before she sent them off for review, as well as reading the report about some of the enchanted items she'd created herself according to the Agency's specifications. The purpose of these items confused her, as most of them were essentially useless... Just highly detailed display pieces, designed to create auditory and environmental illusions, which the Agency insisted she put as much magic into as dragonly possible. She of course did so, but... It seemed like a lot of wasted effort. Hopefully reading their reports on these items might shed some light on their actual purpose.

After reading those reports she'd probably spend the next few hours tinkering with her newest rifle prototype. This would hopefully be the first one with a functional 'burst fire' mechanism. Working out the proper cam for the job was a little tricky, especially as she wanted it to reset in the event the shooter let go of the trigger early. It was also probably about time she gave the weapon a proper name and designation, other than 'Project 2'. Work on the 7.62x39mm cartridge for said unnamed rifle was complete, and several recently acquired BDT munitions factories were already getting started on mass production.

There were other munitions she'd developed, primarily for use against dragon raiders, and those were also selling quite well, as were 7.62x39mm rifle conversion kits. Even if the Project 2 rifle itself failed to pass muster, which Orzel doubted to be the case, the new cartridge was actually gaining traction among the Equestrian Armed Forces and the Lone Star militias. The data provided regarding the company's product performance in combat thus far had been enlightening, and already had resulted in several changes to the weapon's overall design.

By now the kitchen was swelling with the smell of scrambled eggs, boiling rice, and raw boar steak. She didn't plan on cooking it... She didn't have appearances to keep up as she did in Canterlot, and there was just something about the texture of most cooked meats that unsettled her stomach. Likely the result of the heat's detrimental effect on the Princess's ability to absorb arginine and taurine, as Orzel's studies of her own physiology indicated those amino acids were quite important to her continued health.

In fact, an experiment she'd run where she attempted to eat exclusively vegetables low in those amino acids ended pre-maturely when, much to Orzel's consternation, she'd spent nearly an hour and a half alternating between vomiting and laying curled up on the floor, virtually immobilized by extreme pain. This experiment, of course, was known solely to Orzel and Orzel alone. The last thing she needed was for Mother to find out... She'd never hear the end of it.

On a note of personal preference, cooked meat didn't taste nearly as fresh either. Among the many things that'd changed about her body, she'd come to appreciate the increased depth of her tongue's ability to taste and smell the air quite highly... Good food now tasted great, nice scents smelled wonderful, and she had a much easier time finding her way around a room without her spectacles, on the rare occasion where she was without them.

That got Orzel back onto the topic of appointments... Specifically one with her optometrist, then the company meeting, then her defense training session with Grim and Fable, not to mention the 'morning' threat assessment briefing... Timezones being as they were, it was actually taking place at sixteen-hundred hours on Pulauapi. Finally, she'd have her session with Doctor Scratch. The list of things she wanted to discuss with her therapist grew longer with every passing minute, but there was only so much that could be squeezed into a ninety minute session... Hopefully she'd figure out what was best to prioritize before then.

After all was said and done, she'd probably spend the rest of her evening swapping between work on a couple pet projects of hers. The first was a collection of replica antique firearms, 'cap and ball' revolvers, shotguns, and a large bore 'Trap Door' rifle, primarily because they seemed like fun excursions into gunsmithing's past. Orzel found that sometimes going back in time, metaphorically speaking, would give her some insight as to how to solve a problem in the present, or the future.

The other project, dubbed 'Project Gungnir', was more 'official' than 'pet'. Her proposal for an ADATA Weapons System had certainly made quite a splash at ARMA. The rough concept schematics she'd produced had certainly made an impression on the other low and mid level researchers, specifically in regards to the missile's guidance system. For a number of reasons, good and bad, Project Gungnir also started a great deal of discussion among the various department heads.

There were obviously the 'purist' detractors, those that thought technology and magic were mutually exclusive of one another, and should be kept as separate as possible. Others felt that using enchanted components in a weapons system somehow perverted that field of study, and that magic was a 'reflection of the soul'... So obviously, someone who would use magic for the purposes of war had to be some sort of warmonger at heart. There were even some that called it 'evil', 'black magic', or 'mad science', which honestly gave Orzel a good chuckle. Still, many saw the merit in her idea, there were even some that agreed with her assertion that enchanting was more a science than an art. All of this had been relayed to her via memos and inter-lab messages, as she'd yet to actually encounter other researchers in person.

With her mind beginning to wander and her stress levels rising, Orzel turned her attention to the radio beside the stove. Aside from her security briefings, it was her only means of keeping up on the happenings of the world. With a simple push of a button and a brief flare of static, the kitchen was filled with a news broadcast, discussing the current state of affairs throughout the world. A series of weak governments in the nation of Stivale had seen a marked increase in support for an authoritarian ruler, Zebrica was still embroiled in countless civil conflicts, and Ornithia had renewed its mutual defensive pact with the Griffon Empire.

With the cooking now completed, Orzel carried her plates of food and the little radio into the dining room. She'd modified it in her lab, essentially giving it a sort of 'Arcane Battery', mostly as a proof of concept for Project Gungnir. Electronics and enchanting, as she'd previously theorized, worked incredibly well together. They'd certainly need to, if the guidance system was to interface with the missile's control surfaces.

Breakfast initially transpired with Orzel passively eating whilst listening to the ongoing news report, revealing further news that Orzel already knew about given yesterday's threat assessment. It was being speculated that the renewal of the defensive pact was meant to be a show of force to the Northern Provinces, a means of saying that they wouldn't just be fighting the Empire if they chose to secede, which was looking all the more likely now. Ships sent to haul iron ore from the Northern Provinces were regularly being intercepted and turned away in international waters by the Imperial Griffon Navy. As a result, the Iron Bloods had once again sent 'peacekeepers' to occupy the vital bridge crossings.

Unfortunately those weren't Orzel's issues to tackle, they were the purview of the Princesses that still lived in Canterlot... She had suggested to Mother and Aunt Celestia that the Navy accelerate the nearly complete fitting out of ESS Sokol, then deploy the carrier and her strike group to the region as a polite reminder to the Griffons to abide by the treaty. It was unclear whether the suggestion would be acted upon, but the fact that her Aunt hadn't outright shot it down told Orzel that things were far more serious than the public was being led to believe... Overall, the world was basically in the same state it'd been in three months ago. Lousy.

On the lighter side of things, it was being reported that a recent skirmish between dragon raiders and the Lone Star Homeguard had ended in an absolutely crushing defeat for the raiders. In less than an hour, a force of forty militiamen turned three-hundred plus dragons back across the border, all without suffering a single serious casualty. At the same time, another dragon raid had been halted some forty miles away, which had resulted in several serious injuries and at least one burned automobile, but again, no deaths.

The Lone Star Homeguard was cautiously optimistic that the two defeats might've been enough to send the raiders packing for a good while, long enough for them to hopefully replenish their supplies. According to the Homeguard's spokesman, there were at least twenty men from the combined battles that owed their lives to an OUBC produced by Basilisk Defense Technologies...

Orzel nearly spit out her eggs at the mentioning of her company by name... Word of mouth was just the sort of advertising she'd been hoping for, but that wasn't what had taken her by surprise. No, that honor fell to the number of men that'd been saved by her OUBC design. The rest of the report faded into the background, and once more Orzel retreated into her mind as she stared at her plate. Every ounce of self loathing she'd felt that morning just... Melted away. She didn't fight the smile that spread across her face. She'd known there were success stories before, but never on such a scale.

In her mind's eye she found herself standing in the window of her family's estate, staring off into the blurry horizon, hoping for a glimpse of her Father's ship as he returned. There was always the chance that something terrible would happen, so long as he was out of her sight. She couldn't help thinking that there were at least some people in Lone Star that must've felt the same way. twenty men... There were twenty men alive this morning that would've otherwise died, twenty households that hadn't lost someone... Twenty families spared the pain of loss she carried with her every day, because of the work she'd done.

Orzel consumed the remainder of her morning meal with a speed unparalleled by her Equestrian peers, and unusual even for herself. Free from the eyes those that might admonish her for doing so, she chose to indulge her instincts in favor of expediency. When all was said and done, Orzel found herself in quite a mess... Eggs, clumps of raw meat, flecks of rice, all stained her once immaculate attire and table. It was of little concern to her, she had a means of fixing the problem. Orzel was feeling particularly inspired by the news report, and didn't want to waste another moment. She'd need to see about sending a message to Doctor Cross Spar in the Industrial Materials department, from what she'd seen of his work he'd been doing remarkable things with ceramics and high carbon steel.

It'd always been a tossup between the two materials when it came to a 'Rifle Ballistic Plate'... Steel seemed the obvious choice, as it would be far easier and cheaper to produce, but it was also heavier and prone to ricochets, not to mention the dangerous spall of lead and copper produced whenever a round impacted it. In theory ceramic wouldn't suffer from that issue, but it wasn't entirely clear whether Equestria had the ability to manufacture a sturdy enough plate to do the job, not without its own problems, including being inordinately expensive...

Regardless of whatever material she wound up going with, the fact remained that Orzel had become so involved in other projects that she'd allow the OUBC project to sit on her shelf for far too long. Her work had already saved twenty lives... Why not try for forty? Eighty? A hundred? A thousand? She'd need to shuffle her schedule around to make room, but maybe she could eat lunch as she worked. Moving with a renewed pep in her step, Orzel brought her plates into the kitchen and placed them in the sink to clean later, all while the radio continued its muffled sound in the other room. With that, the Princess narrowed her eyes, glaring down both at the plates and the food stains all over her clothes...

Channeling her magic, the Princess spoke a quick incantation. As usual, several streams of glittering magic passed from her lips and swirled around her body. In their wake it became impossible for anyone to tell there'd ever been any stains whatsoever. The plates were also far cleaner now, and a similar effect extended to the dining room table, though she'd still need to polish it later. Wheeling back towards the dining room, she strode purposefully to the radio and turned it off.

From there, Orzel offered her arm for Midnight to hop on, and once the bird was aboard, the Princess moved towards her residence's front door. She paused briefly to observe her broomstick leaning there, which she grabbed along with her satchel. With little further ceremony, she unclipped her ID badge and held it up to a clear gem embedded beside the heavy steel security barrier. The gem glowed bright green, and a few moments later Orzel heard the magnetic locks buzz. With an audible hydraulic whine it swung open, and just like that Orzel was on her way.

The outer hallway was designed with a neo-futurist sort of aesthetic, making use of a lot of fluid shapes and the colors white, yellow, and magenta... The floor was black tile, much like that in Orzel's bed chamber. Two Cerberus Troopers flanked the door, as was almost always the case when she was inside the residence. It was a given at this point that both of them were taller than her by a considerable margin, though not nearly as much as it used to be. It seemed that by embracing more of her draconic traits, she'd actually managed to reach the four-foot-ten and one quarter mark, so she had that going for her.

Both troopers wore brand new combat uniforms of her own designs, utilizing a new pattern of camouflage known as 'CERPAT'. The Nocturne Agency had asked for something specific to Cerberus Troopers, and so far it seemed they liked what she delivered. Orzel's intent was to give the men of Cerberus a more intimidating appearance, something that might inspire greater fear or hesitation in those seeking to do battle with the armed wing of the Nocturne Agency. She'd needed to get creative considering the unusual nature of Cerberus Operations.

To this end she'd gone for a futuristic look that made use of a series of desaturated greens, browns, yellows, grays, and black, though there were variants available for different environments. The disruptive pattern itself was comprised of clusters of minutely sized hexagons lifted straight out of science-fiction. To ensure this effect wasn't diluted, there was no other unit in the Equestrian Military that was authorized to wear CERPAT, not even the Lunar Marines or the prestigious Canterlot Royal Guard.

The addition of camouflage helmet covers over equally new two-piece 'steel pot' helmets, compiled with light, breathable, black balaclavas almost completed the ensemble. In addition to their camouflage patterns, helmets, OUBCs, web gear, and uniforms, Orzel had taken the opportunity to include a light blue and white striped telnyashka undershirt. The goal was to denote to a casual viewer that these men were at the cutting edge of warfare, that Cerberus Troopers were an elite force, and in that respect Orzel believed she'd succeeded.

It'd also opened the door for her to include telnyashkas of differing color in other units that requested uniform designs, which was always a plus in her book... Firefighters and other CDA personnel, for example, were being issued telnyashkas with orange stripes, while the Navy was receiving their stripes in navy blue and the Lunar Marines in black. The Army was still dragging its feet, but they'd come around sooner or later...

The inclusion of the telnyashka itself was intended as an homage to the uniforms of the Szafirian Military... While she had no love for the Empire itself, Orzel still greatly respected the Imperial Armed Forces in general. Aside from the political officers of the MIS, the overwhelming majority of Imperial troops were conscripts. A great many of those conscripts had died valiantly defending Cesarski, outnumbered and facing unspeakable odds, fighting to the bitter end. Incorporating parts of their uniforms into those she created seemed an ample way of commemorating their fighting spirit. If any fighting force on the planet shared that same 'death before dishonor' attitude, it was Cerberus...

The two troopers assigned to escort Orzel that morning wore their new uniforms well, and each man found himself equipped with a PM-72A and a coyote brown OUBC, whose various assorted 'modular buttons' were home to numerous magazine pouches. The men snapped to attention as they always did whenever their diminutive charge emerged into view. As her bodyguards for the day, these men in particular knew Orzel's true identity.

"Good morning, gen-tell-men." Orzel stated with what passed for cheerful in typical monotone, quickly clipping the ID badge back to her lab coat. "Subtitles." She casually ordered, swapping to Szafirian, prompting what was by now a familiar green glowing orb to spawn beside her.

Without any further hesitation she mounted Fantom and began gliding along at a leisurely speed, the two troopers easily keeping pace a few feet behind her. As they moved through the gradually curving hallway, Orzel took the moment to grab her notebook and begin jotting down her thoughts for the day. After a few moments she saw the wall to her right transition into balcony railing, which looked out upon a wide open section of the volcano's old lava chamber. It'd been excavated and converted into a massive atrium, with various balconies for different levels spaced evenly from the ground floor up to the very top section where her residence was placed.

The atrium was decorated in a continuation of the neo-futuristic model, and all of its features looked very 'high tech' and 'sci-fi'. Honestly, much as Orzel liked the interior decoration of her room, she would've preferred the new 'brutalist' craze that was starting to take on in East Parthenia for the outer hallways and atrium. Then again, Orzel wasn't an interior decorator, so what did she know? She could see dozens of people walking below her, attired in lab coats or other professional wear. There were a few she could see were dressed more casually, and that made them easily recognizable as some of the children of the other researchers. Of course, Orzel had never met them, but she had observed from a distance.

They seemed normal enough, though Grim and Fable claimed that some were inclined to causing mischief. Considering most of them shared their parents' intellectual traits, that mischief could be of a more potent sort than one might expect of teenagers. Given how much mischief Orzel could conceivably cause if she was so inclined, it wasn't hard to imagine the sort of antics they might get up to. One could do all sorts of things with sugar and other household staples, provided they knew a few basic chemical formulas. Just one of the innumerable reasons that Grim and Fable put the kibosh on Orzel's actually meeting any of them.

Turning her attention away from the atrium, Orzel withdrew her journal from her satchel and commenced to asking several questions to her bodyguards for the day. These were the same questions she asked every morning regarding the long term comfort and versatility of her combat uniforms.

These two troopers were otherwise just about as talkative as Grim and Fable, though Orzel much preferred the latter two has her personal bodyguards. Nothing against the new men, but there was a certain rapport that she'd developed with the two Giants, and she trusted them far more as a result. Technically they still were her primary bodyguards, but the highly controlled nature of Pulauapi's Site R meant a change in how they did their jobs. For as secluded and disregarded as the island was to the civilized world, the waters surrounding it were not only awash with strange phenomena, but also several colonial holdings such as Equestria's Amberjack Island or the Griffon Empire's Kaiser Archipelago, not to mention at least thirty island micro-nations and an ever increasing number of pirates.

Therefore, Grim and Fable would be taking on a more 'Macro-Management' position, leaving Orzel's protection today in the much smaller, but no less capable, hands of Cerberus Division. As per every morning, she continued her questionnaire all the way up to the elevator that'd take Orzel to her lab. Generally she got the same answers every time, but one could never have too large a sample size. In terms of cut, utility, and range of motion, the new uniforms were typically rated at a seven or an eight. Not perfect, but far better than the standard fatigues, which topped out at a six. Likewise, the question about comfort in a hot environment yielded responses typically in the six or seven range, in large part due to her choice of cotton sateen over the traditional wool, which typically topped out at a three or four.

She'd finished her questions by the time the elevator doors slid open, and together the trio stepped aboard. Orzel touched her ID badge to a clear gem in the elevator until it glowed bright green, then pressed several buttons on the control panel. The elevator car swiftly started its way down through the complex, moving at a speed Orzel wouldn't have thought safe or possible in a similar device on the mainland. Hopping off of her broomstick, the Princess leaned it against the wall and prepared herself mentally for a long day in the lab. Again she bowed her head forward, silently saying a prayer to Lexicos, while at the same time thanking the Goddess for the news that her inventions had worked.

It was at times such as this where she thought back to the question Piercing Gaze had asked her when first she'd surveyed Maksym Field... Did she think she had a higher purpose? For her, there would never be a higher calling than to serve her country, to lead her subjects as their sovereign, but... That didn't mean that was her only highest calling. Looking back upon her first experiences at the temple, when the idea first came to her about inventing the OUBC to begin with, it was hard not to think that this was the path Lexicos wanted her to walk.

She'd gotten into the business of weapon's research with an eye towards preserving the lives of her subjects, and through a mixture of her own skill and the inspiration of her Goddess, Orzel had done precisely that. With a fully stocked lab and her ever increasing expertise, there was nothing beyond her reach. As much as she longed for home, longed to meet and talk with other people, Orzel knew this was the place she could do the most good. Lexicos willing, she'd do precisely that.

The mood within the darkly lit chamber was a strangely optimistic one, especially given the overall atmosphere fostered within the room. A large wooden conference table occupied the central space, large enough for all in attendance to sit comfortably. The chairs were large, high backed and studded leather, almost as one might expect of a stereotypical meeting of business officials. Levitating above a cradle at the center of the table was a perfectly spherical orb of obsidian, it's mirror smooth surface scattered with minute runes that glittered with ominous silvery-emerald energy. From those intricately placed sigils sprang the an emerald green avatar, which occupied the largest and most comfortable looking chair at the head of the table. As with all Arcane Beacons, the figure it displayed appeared as a series of tiny points of light.

Usually these combined together to form the intricate features of a person's face in stunning detail. In this instance, however, the holographic figure appeared as an almost gigantic draconic female. The projection bore no discernible characteristics one way or another, not even a conceivable appearance of dress... Rather, her entire silhouette was an unnaturally smooth, just as the orb from which it sprang. The air around it was a swirling thick soup of tobacco smoke, as was typical of most meetings held among this group. Numerous binders, ledgers, and other assorted documents rested neatly beside each attendee's personal ashtray.

The smoke wafting throughout the darkened room gave the holographic avatar the vaguest illusion of fading in and out of corporeal existence, the coiling serpentine tendrils of acrid vapor refracting the light in strange and unusual patterns of a highly sinister nature. To most of those present, the chair's holographic occupant was a ghost, a phantom, the secretive reclusive inventor behind the creation of Basilisk Defense Technologies. Rumors abounded among those in senior management that'd gathered there, as not a single one knew the true appearance of their mysterious ghost of a boss. Well... Almost no one. Raketnaya Boyegolovka, inventor, scientist, enchantress, arms industrialist. She, like her company, had come virtually out of nowhere as a spectre might emerge from the night...

Her voice was considerably altered so as to protect her anonymity, first sent through a translation matrix, then distorted into an ominous, vaguely synthetic, facsimile of its original mezzo-soprano self. The malevolent effect was greatly helped by the speaker's thick accent, which even the translator failed to remove. The lengths Boyegolovka went in order to preserve her identity, coupled with that thick foreign accent, left little doubt she was a woman of tremendous stature, someone whom they could all look up to, and that she could feasibly crush every single one of them like ants. Not that she would, of course... For all the intimidating appearance she put up, she was surprisingly fair.

Piercing had to hand it to Orzel, the girl certainly knew how to cultivate mystique. The ominous facade was, as he'd come to theorize, a special camouflage of the girl's own devising. In Equestria, villains and bad guys tended to look as much the part as they did actually being a villain. By producing a convincing enough appearance of power and authority, she ensured that very few would go out of their way to poke around in areas of her identity they really shouldn't be. The girl's ability to read the general mindset of most her subjects was uncanny, or... Maybe Piercing was wrong, maybe Orzel just genuinely liked the 'villain' aesthetic. After all, what looked villainous to an Equestrian might've been charming to a dragon, especially one whose almost pathological need for personal discipline and total control of her environment ran so deeply.

As a matter of fact, it was Orzel's fascination with utilitarian architecture that'd been a primary topic of their meeting that day. Most of the senior management didn't care for their current locale at Maksym Field, and would've greatly preferred meeting in Canterlot as it was far less of a commute. Work was already underway both to lease some office space, and to facilitate the construction of a dedicated company headquarters in the nation's capital. The first task would be easy enough, but the latter would take time. They'd need to acquire property, get the building permits, hire an architect, and a contractor, all before the ground was even broken...

Given the real estate market in Canterlot at the moment, that would've been difficult enough already... It was even less feasible considering Orzel had made clear her desire for a building that was not only functional, but also visually distinct. Bold, powerful, something that would dominate the area around it as a fortress might command a hill. To this end, she'd taken a special interest in the architectural style known as 'brutalism', which had been the topic of a great deal of discussion.

Brutalism wasn't really 'in' at the moment in Canterlot, or anywhere really, outside of the various countries of the East Parthenian Bloc. It would therefore prove exceptionally difficult to get permits to build something with that sort of appearance in Canterlot, as most people, Piercing included, found the style of architecture to be... Well... Ugly. Raw concrete, sharp geometrical angles, without any sort of artistic flare. It was cold, implacable, slightly domineering, lacking all the vibrant color or over-the-top embellishments that Canterlot was known for. In essence, the architectural equivalent to Orzel herself.

A straight up brutalist design had been deemed impossible, as to get it past the city council would be a nightmare. Unfortunately Orzel's taste couldn't be swayed to a more traditional 'neo-classical' design, but she did settle for a sort of hybrid between brutalism and 'art-deco'... It'd be just artistic enough to get past the city council, provided certain palms were greased, and at the same time bleak and functional enough not to wholly offend Orzel's utilitarian sensibilities.

Piercing puffed on his pipe, filled with tobacco that he himself had produced using a mixture of magic and his alchemy skills. Much as he enjoyed his cigars, he could settle for a pipe, at least until they'd captured the mole at the Agency... According to a clock on the wall, there were less than five minutes until the top of the hour, so it wouldn't be long until the meeting wrapped up. He turned his attention back to the others as they and Orzel continued discussing profit projections for the next quarter. There was evidently some concern that an economic downturn might be overdue. Still, much of the market uncertainty was offset by a recent surge in sales from across the country, courtesy of the Lone Star Homeguard's glowing recommendation.

Things were further bolstered by several developments Orzel had achieved in the field of enchanting, not only in the private sector, but also for the Agency. The Director had been kind enough to bring Piercing up to speed on the nature of Orzel's new identity, once he was out of the ICU. Any information as to her actual location remained firmly secured in that ancient brain of his. Piercing had a fairly good idea, seeing as most of her reports were accompanied by notes dictated on an audio crystal of a kind that could only be acquired at 'Alpha Site: Raven'... A facility he'd only learned the existence of after assuming Orcus' duties, so secretive that even the Princesses didn't know about it.

Of course, the crystals just as well could've been another obfuscation on the part of the Director, he did so enjoy his cloak and dagger. Luna still thought the girl was on Amberjack, and as far as Piercing knew, that was just as likely as her being anywhere else... It was for the best that Piercing didn't know exactly. Either he'd have to inform Luna of the true location, potentially jeopardizing the secrecy of wherever it was Orzel was placed, or he'd have to lie to the woman he loved. Much as it confounded him, there was a certain leniency that not knowing the facts exactly allowed...

The pseudonym Orzel had been assigned also lent her more credibility among the 'Enchanting Staff' in the employ of Nocturne. Those published under her 'nom de plume' had received greater acclaim than those published under her real name, undoubtedly for political or other subjective factors. That success extended to Orzel's other profit motivated work for BDT, which was proving about as effective as Orcus had hoped when he'd first pitched the idea. The Director was keeping a close eye on everything the Princess did, primarily through Piercing...

The Acting Director puffed on his pipe again, running through the notes of the meeting in his head one final time. The general gist of the meeting following the discussion of a new headquarters had included discussions about the company's latest subsidiaries, 'Boyegolovka Textiles' and 'Raketnaya Aeronautics', as well as a number of legal, PR, and advertising issues of varying degrees of severity. Protestors, nuisance lawsuits, 'Roto-Copter' Prototypes, enchanted patches, tax rates, worker benefits and all manner of other talk that'd consumed the better part of three hours, which culminated in a 'cautiously optimistic' profit projection.

So once again Piercing's eyes returned to the clock, just thirty seconds until the top of the hour. They passed with agonizing slowness, the meeting continuing to drone on and on, until finally the minute hand struck zero-four-hundred hours. Less than a second later the room was filled with a chiming bell, at which point all those in attendance abruptly sat up straighter, Orzel's avatar included.

"I had not realized it was so late in the evening. Forgive me indulging my curiosity for so long." The girl stated with genuine remorse, which somehow managed to remain in spite of the voice changer. "I think we have covered all of the pressing issues that needed resolving for this month. I appreciate you all making arrangements to meet at this odd hour, I have no doubt it is difficult for those of you with families. In fact, if any of you wish to take the following day off to restore your sleep schedule or spend time with loved ones, you may do so with my blessing."

"I promise, I shall try to have appropriate office space in Canterlot come next month's meeting. The girl stated while resting her hands in her lap, her tone sounding far more open than Piercing expected of her at this time of the day. There were several murmurs of appreciation in response, whilst Piercing himself remained quiet. "Our session is officially concluded. If you have any concerns you wish to bring up out of session, I can be reached through Mister Gaze at any time. Speaking of..." The girl turned her attention to Piercing. "Mister Gaze, would you mind staying behind. I have a few matters of a personal nature that I wish to discuss with you in greater detail."

"Of course, Madam Chairwoman. I don't mind in the slightest." Piercing responded, closing a file that'd been laying in front of him. By now he'd become a virtual professional at setting a meeting's agenda, both in his role as Acting Director of the Nocturne Agency and as the Vice-Chairman of BDT... Briefings, meetings, panels, committees, altogether probably accounted for eighty percent of what he did on a given day. Thankfully the Director would be coming back soon, so Piercing could get back to actually dealing with artifacts as had originally been intended. "In case I don't see you later, have a nice weekend everyone." He added, watching as the assembled managers gathered their belongings and filed out of the room.

While they certainly appeared serious, Piercing had little doubt they were pleased with the meeting's outcome as well. Turning his attention back to the holographic avatar, he pondered just what it was that Orzel might've wanted to discuss with him. Realistically, he could think of only one answer. It'd come at the start of the meeting, when Piercing was reading off the issues with the protests and nuisance suits... However, that wasn't the extent of things. Protesters would often lay down in the road to block traffic, or attempt to scale the fences of Maksym Field. One incident involved a firebomb, which had seriously wounded two company security guards.

The police had been called numerous times, but rather than dealing with the problem, they'd become part of it. Mayor Mare in Ponyville wasn't altogether pleased with the factory's reopening. There was nothing she, or anyone else on the city council, could do in court to force it closure. So, they'd gone to the next best thing, using Equestria's legendarily obstructive bureaucracy to make things as difficult as humanly possible for the factory to operate.

Unfortunately there was no one whom had read the various codes and forms as extensively as Orzel had, and as such every attempt the made was just as quickly foiled by a bureaucratic retaliation of her own. The past two and a half months had seen the city council and county clerk's office swamped with various forms, documents, and requests public records going back literal centuries which, by law, the city was required to supply. When inevitably it turned out that many of those files were lost or destroyed, that resulted in a tidal wave other paperwork detailing what was missing and how the city would make good on its legal obligations.

It was clear by the start of the third month, a month or so ago, that the City decided its tactic had utterly backfired. So Mayor Mare did what any politician might do in a situation where things weren't going her way. She got petty. It'd started with police arresting security guards for escorting protestors off company property on charges of 'petty assault', or pulling over trucks carrying BDT goods on bogus speeding tickets. This in turn made many truck drivers wary of picking up BDT loads, and those that chose to take the added risk did so at far higher rates, as a traffic citation could be detrimental to many truck driver's careers.

The factory itself had become just one of many issues to arise in the course of the Ponyville Mayoral election, right up there with an unpopular city tax on income, and an equally controversial public parks program, which had already resulted in several cost overruns. It wasn't so much 'Black Crown vs. Noble' as it was 'Frugal vs. Frivolous'. Ponyville was the most vital railway hub in Equestria, yet its population and overall growth remained almost criminally stagnant in the face of local ordinances and a hostile city council that made any change from the status quo virtually impossible. With economic uncertainty already looming large in the minds of the public, jobs were starting to seem a lot more important than parks.

As a Princess, Orzel certainly cared about the political issues, but Piercing knew her well enough to know that wasn't why she'd asked him to stay behind. She'd listened to each problem regarding the latest tactics of the local authorities with a growing posture of rigidity, until by the very end she'd entered a state of unnerving stillness, her fingers steepled, her head bowed slightly forward. Even without seeing her face, Piercing discerned a posture of profoundest seething fury, much as a particularly ferocious guard dog might appear when eying a potential threat. It was the only portion of the meeting where the villainous aesthetic seemed warranted, as things had actually become... Tense.

"One moment, Madam Chairwoman..." Piercing stated cautiously, even after watching the door close. He snapped his fingers, briefly lighting the room with a bright flash of magic. The doors to the room locked, all windows were covered by thick black-out shades, and an arcane scan of the area revealed that all was as it appeared to be. "The room is secure. We are, as far as I can tell, alone." The man transitioned into Szafirian, watching as the non-descript colossal holographic avatar shifted to take on the genuine, and considerably smaller, appearance of Princess Orzel. "Now, allow me to guess as to the issue you wanted to discuss... Ponyville?" Orzel nodded with visible tensing posture.

"Your powers of perception remain as acute as ever, Mister Gaze. That is indeed one of the problems I want to discuss." Orzel confirmed, her distaste for the situation clearly audible, the voice filter having been dropped as well. "Has the interference from local authorities impacted our delivery schedule from Maksym Field as profoundly as you stated in the meeting?" She asked calmly, Piercing merely nodded. Though her features remained plain, it was clear her dander was going up. "If Mayor Mare is directing the police of her township to enforce the law one-sidedly, then she obviously fails to see the damage such a precedent does to our justice system. Make contact with the campaign of Mister Rich, provide a sizable anonymous donation to his bid for mayor..." The hologram's vision rested on the table. "Do you know any competent private investigators?"

"I can think of quite a few, actually." Piercing responded evenly, lacing his fingers together on the table. He already suspected the direction Orzel was taking with this, but he couldn't be sure until he actually asked her. "What is the nature of the problem you want investigated?"

"I am very certain that like all career politicians, Mayor Mare has a number of skeletons in her closet that would be detrimental to her re-election campaign." Orzel explained with a tone of shrewd intensity, honestly Piercing had seen that coming as well. "Find those skeletons, Mister Gaze. I want more than speculation or rumor, I want the truth! I want evidence that cannot be refuted!"

For as much as she tried to be as morally upstanding as possible, there was also the cold, calculating, predatory side of the Princess that wouldn't seem natural to those that knew her casually. She would never consider rigging an election, but she was a pragmatist, and Piercing had no doubt she'd get her hands metaphorically dirty if she had to without actually straying into the realm of the illegal.

"Contact me once you have it, then see that the press is made well aware." Orzel continued coldly, distantly, with the voice of a practiced tactician. While the weekly games of chess between her and her Mother had ended, it was clear she'd gotten far better at thinking several moves ahead, though not all the way there quite yet. "If they refuse to publish the story, I trust you are more than creative enough to devise an alternative method of getting the message out."

Piercing knew by now that the idea of mudslinging probably didn't sit well with Orzel, given her history with the press, but also that such reservations wouldn't stop her either. The Noble Party had opened the door to weaponizing the press when they'd come after her, and Piercing had no doubt she'd take every opportunity to turn their own tactic against them. They'd shown her just how effective such things as newspapers and tabloids could be at shaping public opinion, and while most public opinion mattered little to Orzel herself, it mattered a great deal in the field of politics.

Of course, Piercing knew there was more to her desire to get involved in the election than just her annoyance at the hindrance of her business. A matter of principle, that'd undoubtedly made Mayor Mare an enemy in the Princess's eyes. Speeding tickets and trumped up petty assault charges were, in the grand scheme of things, hardly the sort of transgression most people might expect to incite the wrath of a Princess... It might make Celestia miffed, perhaps even a tad irked, but not enraged. Then again, most people hadn't lived in a despotic police state, where the police could, and often did, turn up to someone's home to drag them away in the middle of the night merely on the suspicion that they might have interacted with someone who may have committed the crime of having the wrong opinion.

That wasn't to say that Orzel's getting involved with the issue wasn't a problem in its own right. While it wasn't technically illegal, there was an existing precedent, more a tradition really, that Princesses weren't supposed to get involved in local elections below a provincial level. Piercing would therefore have to inform Luna and Celestia of the girl's plan to deal with the problem, assuming she still went ahead with it... Of course, by now he knew that Orzel knew that he was reporting back to Luna, and she wouldn't have put forward the suggestion if she wasn't ready to fight with her Mother over it.

"You are certain you wish to get involved?" Piercing asked with a fleeting hope Orzel would reconsider, but the girl crushed it with a mere nod of her head. Time to do some parenting... "I do not feel comfortable carrying out that request, Orzel. I think you are looking at the problem from the wrong angle, and I would be remiss not to tell you as much." He could see her eyebrow twitch ever so slightly upward, but as he'd expected she nodded for him to continue. "Influencing local elections is not the purview of the Crown... You talk about Mayor Mare's setting of a dangerous precedent, but what of the precedent you yourself might set by becoming involved?" Piercing asked philosophically, puffing idly on his pipe.

"Your problem is with Mayor Mare, but for the few admittedly shady practices she might, might, engage in, there are a great many positives Ponyville has to thank her for. Increased school funding, infrastructure modernization, the acceleration of the FDPV's growth, sponsored by your own Civil Defense Agency." Piercing continued with that same educational tone, a point to which Orzel grudgingly conceded by means of a sigh.

Piercing knew she was a good kid at heart, but given her age and relative inexperience in the field of domestic politics, it was understandable she'd have a few impulsive foibles. Coming up with new policies and overhauling inefficient systems was one thing, making deals and compromising was another. This was one of those... What had Celestia called it? A 'teaching moment'?

"Politics is a messy business, you know that as well as anyone." Piercing went on further, reclining in his seat and making himself a little more comfortable. "No one, not you, or your Mother, or even Celestia, can claim to have a spotless record, now or in the future. We are not perfect beings, we are just people. Everyone will be, at some time in their life, a hypocrite, and anyone that claims otherwise is a liar. I am not saying that gives you license to be a hypocrite at your leisure." The man stated a bit more seriously, then folded his hands in his lap. "There is little room for the moral absolutism you crave, and frankly I think that is for the best. You have read 'For the Republic', you know what I- The author said. There are three types of people that try to build societies based on moral absolutism. Oligarchs, tyrants, and theocrats."

"What does that have to do with Mayor Mare shirking her responsibility to the law? It is a basic function of her job, to uphold the law. To operate within the confines of the justice system as if all citizens are equal." Orzel countered harshly, her eyes peering into Piercing with a level of intensity he hadn't expected. "Do you realize how much money we are spending to defend our workers? Workers who were, by all accounts, abiding by the law?" She added with further venom. "Were it not for our assistance in paying their attorneys, all of them would be in financial ruin! They would be unable to pay their mortgages, heat their homes, put food on their tables! How would justice be served then? Piercing winced slightly... He had to concede that point.

"I understand, and that is frustrating, but please... Hear me out." Piercing offered as soothingly as possible. "The world we live in is not black or white... You know that better than anyone that sometimes we are dealt a devastating hand. There is no fairness." He took several more puffs on his pipe, sighing the smoke through his nose. "Life in general is made up of varying shades of gray. Compared to some of the people you have dealt with here, and in Szafiria, I ask you as a scientist...? Is Mayor Mare objectively anything worse than a very, very light gray." The man could see he was getting through to Orzel, and he couldn't help inwardly smiling at that. She faintly nodded after a few moments, though obviously she wasn't happy about it. "If the people of Ponyville want her to remain in office, that is their choice... Using money or revealing a scandal to shift public opinion has its time and place in politics, against the real problem actors, not people like Mayor Mare." Orzel mulled over his words in silence for what felt like a good thirty seconds, then sighed heavily through her nose.

"Very well, I shall defer your counsel on the matter..." The Princess conceded tiredly. "That does not change the fact that delivery of orders is being impeded not only to our civilian customers, but to your Agency as well. What would you recommend we do on that front?" That was a rather sticky wicket, one that Piercing didn't really have an immediate answer to.

The first option was to have troops from the Territorial Garrison escort the vehicles in convoys out of Ponyville, but that would be a PR nightmare. Troop trucks rolling through Mainstreet Equestria wasn't the sort of look BDT was going for, and the press would undoubtedly have a field day with the inevitable clashes between local authorities and Territorial Garrison troops. No, escorting the trucks wasn't an option either... His eyes swept over the old control room, looking at the various remnants of its time in the service of the Army Air Corps. Charts, radio sets, even a series of 'Spotter Silhouettes'. It was hard to imagine, this room being filled with officers, directing aircraft by radio...

"Hmm... There is a thought." Piercing hummed, sitting up straighter in his seat. "The Agency has a good number of cargo aircraft and airships at its disposal, primarily for the purpose of asset insertion to foreign countries." The man watched Orzel's expression rapidly shift, stoic as it was, to one of comprehending realization. "We can have the Agency's shipments flown to airports nearby, where they can be picked up by trucks without risk of being intercepted. I shall need to make a few phone calls, but the first flight can likely land later today."

Orzel's earlier tenseness gradually receded as the topic changed, and Piercing was grateful he'd been able to talk her back from the proverbial ledge. Sometimes seemingly obvious solution wasn't always the correct one. The man paused briefly, looking around the room for anything to potentially change the subject. Not that he didn't enjoy educating Orzel on the finer points of politics, he just wanted to get moving before she started nitpicking, and thus potentially undermining the progress they'd made.

"Moving on to a matter I wanted to discuss. I had an opportunity to examine the schematics you forwarded regarding the Rune of Epic Detection, I think they will prove quite useful in assisting our agents in the field." Piercing settled on the topic of the latest parcel he'd received from wherever Orzel was, hoping to play on the girl's love for her work. Judging by the slight raising of the girl's eyebrow, Piercing knew he'd succeeded. "I was wondering if you might be up for something a tad more challenging?" Orzel crossed her arms, then inclined her head forward, wordlessly signaling him to continue. "At present we lack a sufficient means of detecting Changelings in real time, short of invasive means such as blood tests. I was wondering if you might be capable of creating an enchantment that could do so passively." Orzel rubbed thoughtfully at her chin, then pursed her lips.

"Such an enchantment is certainly feasible, provided I had access to certain biological information... Average Changeling heart rate, body temperature, and so on, but obtaining that data is only part of the issue." The girl began, folding her hands back into her lap. "I have enough 'irons in the fire' as it is, Mister Gaze. Research projects that span numerous disciplines, all of which are at the request of the Agency. Developing an enchantment of such a complex nature could consume a great deal of my already limited spare time, and may require me to deviate from existing lines of inquest." Piercing had little doubt that Orzel would do the work if he insisted it was necessary, but he got the feeling she was fishing for something...

"Is that so?" Piercing asked pointedly, taking another puff on his pipe. Orzel's expression brightened faintly, evidently she was pleased that he'd picked up on her not so subtle hint she wanted something. It probably wasn't money... Between the profits from BDT and a diversified investment portfolio put together by the company's accountant, Orzel's net worth sat at approximately twenty-eight-million Bits and rising. A virtual tithe compared to the fortunes of her Mother or Celestia, but certainly enough to keep a growing dragon happy. "What could I do to potentially alleviate the strain?"

"Firstly, I want visitors. I am almost entirely alone here and it is... Difficult." The girl stated firmly, catching Piercing slightly off guard. He would've expected as much, no one could ever truly survive in total seclusion, but... He didn't think it was that bad. "Secondly, I want greater freedom in my movements and interactions with other people here at Site R." Piercing inwardly winced, she'd just come out and said it. Then again, it wasn't as if she'd been told to keep it a secret either. So much for plausible deniability... Now on top of the desire for visitors, he had to tell Luna where the girl actually was. "Lastly, I would like to receive formal training in the various skills required of those serving in all of our nation's armed forces and Nocturne Agency. If I am to continue developing weapons for them, I must better understand how they each operate, and the unique challenges each branch faces in its respective field."

Piercing pondered all three of Orzel's requests, the latter two he could easily swing... The problem was that sending someone, anyone, to Site R for any purpose other than a prolonged stay drastically increased the odds of its discovery by hostile forces. While teleportation magic would make the trip nigh instantaneous, there might've been less than friendly persons monitoring the Arcane Barrier... To teleport over such a vast distance would leave a tangible effect on the barrier, and to do so regularly, over a prolonged period of time, might very well paint a straight line directly to Pulauapi Atoll and all that went on there.

Every message parcel teleported to and from the island had to be sent through a chain of randomized teleportation points before it inevitably wound up in Canterlot. Letters and other packages could be sent with a fair amount of ease on account of their small size, but anything larger than fifty pounds required an extreme amount of energy. Theoretically he could snap his fingers, wind up in the Chaotic Realm, then snap again and arrive at Site R, but that required a great deal of magic. Luna and Celestia couldn't access the realm as he could, and even they would struggle with the number of proxy jumps they'd need to make, as each jump's required energy increased exponentially according to mass.

"I can certainly get you cleared for advanced training as you requested, and give you much broader permissions at Site R, but on the topic of visitors...?" Piercing began, already he could see Orzel's avatar narrow her eyes at him. "You are aware of the concept of Barrier Tracing, correct?" The girl looked at him for a few moments, likely running through the same scenario he had just run through in his own mind, until ultimately she sighed with reluctant realization.

"Indeed..." The Princess said dejectedly, rubbing at her temples in a fashion not too dissimilar from her Mother. "The threat to my safety remains at its previous height?" The girl asked seriously, to which Piercing could only nod. "Be honest with me, Mister Gaze. There is more to the threat than just the Changelings, correct?" Piercing sighed heavily through his nose, of course she would've figured that out as well... "While I may not be wearing my crown, I want you to bear in mind that I am asking as Crown-Princess. As an operative of the Nocturne Agency, you are bound by oath to respond honestly." Once again she was correct, and while it would've been easy for him to lie to her, she would've figured it out on her own eventually, and all that'd do was damage his credibility with her.

"Approximately four months ago, around the time of the Firewatch simulation, a highly trained team of rogue operatives from Ornithia's Division Five infiltrated a top secret Nocturne Facility, Facility One-Two-Seven..." Piercing began from the beginning, filling Orzel in on everything that he'd already told Luna and Celestia. From the first report to the poisoning of Director Orcus, which she hadn't been informed of, all the way up to today.Through it all, Orzel's features remained notably implacable, and she only ever interrupted to ask him a question or two. In a lot of ways, she appeared far calmer than Luna or Celestia had when they'd first been informed...

Of course, Orzel had been made aware of some of the Nocturne Agency's various clashes with the forces of the occult. It didn't take a rocket scientist to see that many of the enchantments the Agency asked her to develop were intended for use against such threats. Piercing considered leaving out the part regarding the Tome of Obscurum Scientia, but figured he'd already said too much already, so there was little harm to be done. Still, there were some questions that Piercing wished Orzel hadn't asked, particularly about why she in particular had been chosen as the Crown's 'Designated Survivor'. In that sense he could get away with a half-truth... Because she was the youngest, the least likely to be noticed missing, and that at present she was far better equipped to aid Equestria as a researcher working for ARMA than as a Princess in Canterlot.

There was one topic that Luna had sworn Piercing to secrecy over... The speculation that Orzel might, in some fashion, be a component in some unknown Ancient prophecy. The jury was still out on that subject, as researching Kwarczkie ruins was considerably harder than originally thought. The Dragonlands where they'd been endemic, including a good portion of the islands, were controlled by the Reaver Clan. Operations in the Dragonlands were difficult enough, but to send agents into Reaver Territory...? Orzel didn't need to know about some wild unsubstantiated theory. Luna and Piercing both agreed the odds of her latching onto that theory and traveling down a rabbit hole of speculation and worry, when she was already beset with enough worry to last a hundred life times, were too great to bring it up without sufficient evidence.

"So the risk presented by this 'Tome of Obscurum Scientia'... That is the greater threat overall?" Orzel asked, and Piercing honestly wasn't sure how to respond. The Tome was a greater threat to the world at large, but the Changelings probably posed a more immediate risk to Equestria specifically. He relayed as much to Orzel, who hummed thoughtfully. "What threat would you like me to prioritize in my development projects? I cannot focus on both at once." She posited with a level of calm that Piercing supposed could only be expected of a person that so ardently controlled their emotions.

"I think it would be best if you focus on the Changeling threat with regard to your engineering projects, they have the most utility overall." Admitted Piercing, sighing heavily through his nose. "That being said, now that you are better aware of what your enchantments will face, do you have any insights you think might be of assistance?" Orzel rubbed idly at her chin, looking off to the side with a thoughtful expression.

"As far as locating the tome itself, I am afraid I shall need greater access to the Agency's files before I can offer an opinion." She finally answered, turning her attention back to Piercing. "That being said, from what you have said I expect that the Cerberus Division will be encountering aberrations and other forces of this 'abyss' you mentioned. If I am to create suitable counters to them, I must view these occultic materials, and the spells contained within, for myself..."

Piercing had been afraid of that... For Orzel, he could think of no more enticing lure than forbidden knowledge, but she remained their best chance at developing a suitable defense... It was a risk that, unfortunately, needed to be taken. Once again, he took note of how calm Orzel appeared... As if all this talk of alternate planes and horrific monsters of a cosmic sort was as inconsequential as discussing what one planned to have for dinner.

"I think it would be best that I focus my enchanting efforts on continuing to develop runes that will safeguard them from such forces." Orzel concluded somewhat sternly, resting her hands in her lap. "I cannot split my attention by starting work on the 'Changeling Detection' rune you have requested."

"I see..." Piercing began hesitantly, once again she had a point. For as quickly as the girl could develop new designs, there was only one of her, and she could only do so much at a time. While it might take longer, there was one alternative the man hadn't considered. "I suppose we can just have our in-house team begin work on development. If they hit a snag, I can always call you."

There were bound to be plenty of 'snags', of that Piercing had little doubt. His theories about the Kwarczkie mind being genetically predisposed to learning magic and combat were almost all but entirely proven by now, and Orzel was now operating at a level of skill that usually shouldn't have been possible. Sometimes Piercing wondered if perhaps they hadn't gotten extremely lucky, not just by having Orzel in general... Every civilization had great minds, people that were just generally better at things than others. Perhaps Orzel was the Kwarczkie equivalent of Starswirl the Bearded or Clover the Clever?

Examining the girl's first truly new enchantments had given Piercing his first inclination that Orzel might be an outlier of considerable ability, even by Kwarczkie standards. Somewhat nostalgic, the man recalled a time long ago when he'd aspired to be a professor like his mentor Starswirl the Bearded. Orzel's work was really coming into its own not only in its increasing complexity, but also in the way her runes appeared. The symbols she drew were in a unique and distinctive 'style' unlike any contemporaries, in a manner not dissimilar to a painter or a musician incorporating their own personal motifs...

As with most things, Orzel favored a 'brutalist utilitarian' aesthetic, making extensive use of straight lines and sharp angles, drawing hexagons or elongated octagons rather than circles or ovals. Typically Orzel would finish by adding the only sign of artisnal flare she tolerated, taking the form intricate scroll work on the outer portions of a rune, almost always tapering off into well defined points. From what Piercing could tell, it was her way of making the runes 'modular', offering a sturdy connection point to potentially chain another effect onto the existing one.

If Piercing were a professor, he'd easily give her top marks for functionality, though they were by no means pretty in the traditional sense. At times, Piercing wondered if Orzel's gifted abilities would ever reach some sort of upper limit, or if they would just continue to develop to such an extent that no one but her could hope to grasp it... For as impressive as that might've seemed, the man also had to wonder what sort of psychological effect that might have on a person like Orzel. To keep advancing while everyone else struggled to keep up, it certainly seemed like the prelude to a very lonely future.

Applying enchantments like those Orzel produced to various items had been quite a challenge in its own right, just as it'd been a challenge for Piercing to review them at first. The staff they'd hired to produce enchanted items from Orzel's designs were certainly competent, but he doubted if many of them had experience developing runes of such complexity as would be needed to detect Changelings. Thinking outside the box to create a new and specific enchantment wasn't entirely their strong suit, especially one with Orzel's degree of attention to detail. Rubbing at his slightly stubbly chin, Piercing had to wonder if maybe it was time to consider bringing some 'older' minds into the mix, but that was a discussion for he and the other Princesses to have.

"Tell me more about what you are working on mechanically speaking." Piercing requested evenly, hoping to speed along the final few points of the meeting. From that point on he and Orzel discussed the progress she was making in her various engineering efforts...

The latest prototype of the new rifle, which Orzel had finally given a name, was proceeding nicely. Unlike the PM-72, which had taken its name from Szafirian, Orzel felt it best to stick to standard draconic if she wanted to maintain her cover. Thus, she'd given the weapon the designation 'Pekhotnaya Vintovka Vasiliskov', or translated 'Basilisk Infantry Rifle'... The year of production was still up in the air though, as it wasn't clear if it could enter service within this year or the next, so for now it was simply known as the 'PVV-XX' or the 'Vasiliskov'.

Orzel would hopefully be ready to send along several copies of the Vasiliskov for the Agency to put through their paces. According to her, the weapon wouldn't be nearly as cheap or easy to produce as the PM-72, particularly with its chrome-lined barrel and milled receiver. At an estimated thirty-five Bits per unit, it wouldn't be prohibitively expensive either. Considering there was already a lot of talk among the members of the DAC about adopting the PM-72 as the Equestrian Military's new standard SMG, the cost could be offset by the money they'd save. The price would of course gradually go down as manufacturing capabilities improved, components were simplified, and they transitioned from milled to stamped receivers...

Piercing was pleased to learn that Orzel's efforts regarding Project Gungnir were likewise progressing steadily, at least on paper and in small scale tests. While the missile had started out as a means of destroying enemy airships or heavy bombers, there was also a possibility that the system could be adapted for use against other targets, particularly enemy shipping or hardened bunkers. Orzel was also developing a separate ADATA control mechanism that could also feasibly be mounted in a machine gun or Anti-Aircraft turret of some kind, so the system could still be of some use, even if the missiles didn't materialize in the foreseeable future.

The meeting didn't last much longer beyond that, as both Orzel and Piercing had work to get back to, the former mentioning that she'd kept Grim and Fable waiting long enough already. With a brief farewell, the connection between the Arcane Beacons was severed and the conference room was plunged into near perfect silence. Piercing puffed on his pipe several times before rising from his seat and putting his hands on his hips.

He'd need to relay everything that'd transpired to Luna, both the progress report and the fact that he'd learned Orzel's true whereabouts... That was not going to be a fun conversation, especially today. From what he'd heard on the radio earlier, it'd been a particularly hard day of diplomatic work on the Mountain. He'd really need to turn on the charm, not just because he wanted to survive, but also because he had the feeling Luna would really need the pick me up.

In the wake of the morning's numerous political and diplomatic fiascoes, stepping into the royal dining room to find the chamber virtually empty was definitely not what Luna had expected when she'd said farewell to her sister following the morning's threat assessment briefing. The center of the table set for two, one seated across from another, and was illuminated by the rooms massive windows to reveal a great abundance of glittering silver tray covers. Celestia had mentioned something about craving something from Pony Joe's Donuts, while Piercing and the other members of the Crown were all busy with their own morning concerns. Luna had thus expected to be the only one to eat in the dining room, and the fact that the only other person in sight was Piercing Gaze just seemed so... Troublesome. He'd lied to her... Albeit a small one, but still...

Luna needed more trouble like she needed a hole in the head, especially considering the state of affairs that'd been made clear in the recently concluded briefing. The Griffons were once again at eachother's throats, the Ornithians were starting to butt their noses in, the National Council elections were only a few short weeks away, a 'Special Emissary' sent by the Southern Dragon Clans was exceptionally livid because the Lone Star Homeguard was making absolute mincemeat of the 'rogue' clans that consistently prodded Equestria's border, and the Nocturne Agency was nowhere closer to finding the Tome of Obscurum Scientia or stopping the Changeling Menace. All this while Luna's sleeping habits had deteriorated, primarily due to stress, though Piercing's coming to bed at odd hours didn't help matters.

It was clear that the man intended to attempt and raise her spirits, which on any other morning might've been sweet. Honestly, as much as Luna appreciated the gesture Piercing was trying to make, the woman wasn't sure if there was anything he could do. She seldom took 'personal days', but was choosing to make an exception. Right now she just wanted to get something to eat, find about the largest mug of coffee she could get her hands on, then change out of her gown and back into her nice, soft, pajamas, all before proceeding up to her bedchamber to scream into her pillow.

Piercing perked up, smiling at her warmly, welcomingly, it was obvious that he was trying to make an effort, and that at least warranted some minor participation. Closing the door behind her, Luna sighed through her nose and approached the table, rubbing tiredly at her eyes. Getting closer to the table she was briefly blinded by the light glinting off the plat covers, as well as a large stainless steel carafe which filled the air with a faint whiff of coffee. Maybe she could stay more than a few minutes... After all, he had gone through all the trouble. Smiling faintly at the man, the Princess pulled out the seat across from him and sat down. Piercing proceeded to snap his fingers, using his magic to push her seat in for her.

"Surprise!" He greeted with a faint charming smile, adjusting the collar of his dress shirt, his suit jacket resting on the chair-back behind him. Piercing looked far less dour in the light of the morning than he had in the dingy smoke filled chamber of the situation room, though it was clear that his job had taken its toll. He looked older, with numerous worry lines, and the faintest flecks of gray appearing in the hair around his temples. They'd likely fade with time, when he wasn't under so much stress, as the reformed chaos demi-god wasn't actually capable of aging permanently.

"Please, not so loud..." Luna mumbled tiredly, rubbing at her temples... The light in the room was making it difficult to fight a migraine that'd arisen at the briefing, it was only just now beginning to fade. "You did not need to go out of your way for me." She added pointedly, looking at the covered plates while Piercing shrugged his shoulders.

"I know, I wanted to." He answered simply, reaching over to uncover one of the dishes. "I just thought you'd want someone to talk to, the radio said today was probably... Difficult." He added, setting aside the silvery cover to reveal a large plate of scrambled eggs beside an assortment of breakfast sausages. The meal looked just as fresh and as steaming hot as if it'd just been prepared, looking at the plate cover, Luna didn't need to wonder why... She could see the faintly glowing emerald runes on its lower edge. "Besides, I have some news that you may not like, and I thought it best to break it over breakfast." Luna narrowed her eyes at him, and he quickly held up his hands. "Nothing bad happened, it's just... Y'know, possibly upsetting."

"Yet you chose to wait until now to mention it, as opposed to saying something in the briefing?" Luna asked with a level of harshness she hadn't really intended, already she could feel the migraine sprinting back at her with a vengeance. Still, she grabbed the plate she'd been offered, as well as a fork and knife. "You have made quite an impressive breakfast, which leads me to think you are attempting to soften the blow of something. Seeing as I am presently in a considerable amount of pain, it would be best for your longevity if you just said whatever needs saying..." Piercing looked between her and the fork she held, gulped slightly, then nervously rubbed at the back of his neck. She'd only been joking, of course.

"I mentioned I had a company meeting early this morning, right?" Piercing asked, the Princess nodded only faintly while at the same time pouring herself a hot steaming mug of coffee, sweetened by a small amount of honey, which she stirred in with a small metal spoon. "Well, I talked to Orzel for a bit after it was over, and, well..." Luna stopped mid stir, staring directly at the man, with an intensity that silently implored him to just spit it out already. She was already worried enough about her daughter without him dancing around the problem. "She asked if she could possibly start having visitors, but for reasons I'm about to get into, that's not really... Practical..." Luna set the fork and knife down on her plate, there was obviously more to the issue than that. "It turns out she's not actually on Amberjack-" All at once Luna's migraine flared to life with a vengeance, and it was all she could do to glare at Piercing, as the light was proving quite painful.

"Piercing, if you have been keeping my daughter's location from me this entire time...? I will not be happy." Luna hissed sharply, though it was really a drastic understatement. There was nothing she could think of that she'd never forgive Piercing for, except for if he'd done something, or concealed information, pertaining to Orzel's well being. To his credit, Piercing's demeanor remained just as calm as it'd been before.

"I did have some suspicions that she might be somewhere else, but I wasn't sure where..." Piercing admitted calmly, Luna briefly thought of laying into him about lying to her, or at least concealing his suspicions, but the look in his eyes told her this wasn't something he'd done lightly. "The Director changed her destination last minute. Orzel is at what's known in the Agency as an 'Alpha Clearance Site'."

"It's a facility whose secrecy is of such paramount importance that no one, not even the Crown, knows it exists. That knowledge is restricted to the Director and those operate or support the site itself." Piercing explained calmly, though with obvious reticence. Luna's eyes widened at the mention of this 'Alpha Clearance Site', both because she could think of no reason to conceal it from the Crown and because apparently her daughter had been there this entire time. "They're maintained for special purposes. Some of them house artifacts that are two dangerous to be moved, others are, well... I can't tell you, not without you specifically asking me to." Luna was about to open her mouth to do precisely that, but Piercing held up a finger to stop her.

"Before you do that, I want you to remember what happened to the Director. The risk that we have a mole inside the Agency, possibly even in the Castle." The man stated with deadly seriousness. "We're at war, Lu... There may not be bombers overhead, but people can and likely will die. The casualties will all depend on the sort of information the enemy receives." He cast a look around the room, then back at the table. "I scanned the room before you came in, so I'm fairly certain we're alone, certain enough to have said as much as I have, but until other matters are dealt with I can't be one hundred percent positive that we are, in fact, alone. Given what happened to Director Orcus, I think that's a healthy mindset to have."

"Where is she...?" Luna asked softly, all of her previous anger melting away into a series of whirlwind emotions. Uncertainty, fear, and realization... Piercing was right, if whoever was responsible had gotten to the Director, they could theoretically get to anyone. The woman sighed, her features softening, and she hoped Piercing understood she wasn't mad at him... She was upset, yes, but... His actions were warranted.

"I will tell you, if that is what you really want. She's your daughter, and I wouldn't dream of keeping you from her, but..." Piercing's words carried a great deal of caution, his serious expression giving way to a look of genuine affection. "Consider the possible outcomes. What if I tell you, and we aren't truly alone? What if you aren't really who you appear to be? What if they somehow get ahold of you, and through whatever dark magics they wield, manage to pry it from your lips? I know, you don't think it's possible, but with magic nothing is impossible." He sighed faintly. "Orzel at the moment is in the safest place she can be, where she can do Equestria the most good. Right now, aside from Orzel herself, there are only two people that know where your daughter is. Just two. Orcus and myself. Are you absolutely, positively, one-hundred percent certain that you want to make it three?"

Luna stared at him quietly, she'd never seen him so serious as he was now, not even when they were younger. Looking into his glittering eyes, she could see all the love and commitment he'd poured into his mad search for a means of bringing them together, and yet... There was more to it than that. Yes, he was concerned for Luna's feelings over Orzel, but... He was also worried about the girl herself. Not just because it was his job as Acting Director, either... It was more than that. In a few moments Luna realized, much to her surprise, that the look on Piercing's face was more than seriousness... It was paternal protectiveness, much as Luna herself had felt on that somber night in the gardens.

The woman knew that he would tell her if she asked him, he would give her the answer to a question that would gnaw at her every day and every night. He could release her from yet another worry, yet another imponderable nightmare for which the only cure would be the truth, and all that stood between her and that truth were two words 'Tell me.'... So simple sounding in her head, and yet the implications were anything but. Piercing was absolutely right about this 'Cold War' they faced... Intelligence was a weapon, secrecy a shield. Knowing where Orzel was might subdue one worry, but would very likely replace it with another that was just as potent, if not more so...

If Luna knew where Orzel was, would that put her daughter's safety in jeopardy? Could she wake up, day after day, wondering if she might receive news that something terrible had happened, all because she'd asked the answer to a question she was better off not knowing? Would it be easier to just trust that what Piercing said was true, that while Luna wouldn't know where her child was, she would at the very least know that she was safe. Orcus and Piercing would sooner kill themselves than betray Orzel's whereabouts, and Luna would gladly do the same if it came down to it, but would even that be enough...? The woman had said it a hundred times herself. Magic was about making possible the impossible.

"You are certain she is safe?" Luna asked shakily, Piercing's nod was solemn and assured, and that was enough. "I have entrusted you with my daughter's life, Observos... I will trust that if it is better off I not know where she is, then I should not know." She turned her attention back to her meal, meanwhile Piercing snapped his fingers, pouring himself a cup of coffee while Luna took a tentative sip from her mug... "Are you certain it would be impossible to maybe visit her? Perhaps if I wore a blindfold on the journey there?" Piercing sighed faintly, uncovering his own plate of breakfast.

"You know the location of every constellation better than anyone. If you so much as saw the night sky, even for a second, I've no doubt you'd be able to tell where you were." The man stated firmly, shaking his head as he added salt to his eggs. "I know, it's difficult, but unless you plan to stay with her for the duration of her time there, it's best that no one goes to visit. If you want to talk to her, you can always use the Arcane Beacon or join her in the dream realm." Luna sighed uneasily, nodding in acceptance of Piercing's recommendations.

Looking around the dining room, it was hard not for Luna to recall the first time she and Orzel had eaten there together... The night she'd informed her daughter that she was to become a Princess, that her future in Equestria would doubtless be difficult, but that her new family would always be there for her when she needed them. It had been just around eleven months since Orzel's first arrival, and already the girl was off to Gods know where, alone... She could play the role of a monarch with a skill Luna couldn't help but be proud of, but buried deep down... The woman knew there was still a lot of pain in her daughter's heart, so much sadness and lingering self doubt, and here Luna was... Powerless to help her child, unable to even know where she was...

"I promised myself I would protect her..." Luna whispered quietly after taking a sip from her wine. "I promised I would always be there for her. This feels... This feels like I have abandoned her. I know, it is for her own safety, but..." Piercing reached across the table and took the Princess's hand into his own. With a tenderness she hadn't expected, he squeezed it comfortingly.

"Look at me, Lu..." The man softly soothed, drawing her eyes up to the man... Her reflection was visible in the lenses of his glasses, and once again she was confronted by how old he appeared. His eyes were sunken and tired, and yet... He was still so young, just as handsome as Luna remembered. "When I was a statue... The first thing I can remember making sense to me was your voice. I heard it, in the gardens... It's fuzzy, but it must've been the night Orzel arrived, because I think I heard Sokol as well." The man shook his head. "Your voice had such an impact on me that I was able to fight back against that thing I'd become." He paused. "I heard it for less than a couple seconds."

"You have spent the better part of a year giving Orzel all the love and support you could." Piercing smiled at her, his voice as smooth and as calm as a morning lake. "You held her when she cried, you encouraged her to use her gifts, you showed her a world the likes of which she never dreamed of. I know, because you did the same thing for me." The man squeezed Luna's hand again. "Then, when a threat emerged you didn't think you could protect her from, you did the next best thing. You sent her somewhere where she can be safe, even when it tore your heart out, because she's your daughter and you love her..." The man's voice became as certain as steel. "You did not abandon her."

Luna looked at Piercing, then squeezed his hand right back. He'd started out as her best friend when they started studying together, with a shoulder that was always available to cry on. In all the centuries that'd passed since then, she'd never encountered someone that she connected with as deeply as she did with him, and here was just another example of that. Whenever Luna found herself looking at the problem from one side, he'd somehow manage to get her to see things differently, and it was only then that she could solve it. It'd been that complementary manner of thinking that'd first drawn her to him romantically, even when they argued, she came away better off in the long run...

"I love you..." Luna said softly, turning her attention back to breakfast. Much as the news had shaken her, it was only the morning... Even if she was taking a personal day, there were plenty of things on her mind. All she could do was hope that she'd made the right decision. If she couldn't visit Orzel in person, asking about what was happening in her life seemed the next best option. While it was doubtful Piercing knew many of those details, he would at least have an idea what sort of work Orzel was doing... Perhaps that would be close enough.

Standing upon the sidewalk of one of Canterlot's innumerable streets, it would be hard not to mistake a man in a slate gray suit and tie as some sort of businessman, assuming he was even noticed to begin with. He stood with his back to the rising sun, hands tucked into his pockets, a cigarette dangling from between his lips, and a fedora strategically placed to cover his eyes. This particular stretch of sidewalk had become quite popular over the past year. Not just because it ran almost directly adjacent to the walls of Canterlot Castle, but also due to the fact that it provided the common man with an opportunity to gaze upon the now infamous 'Eastern Guard Tower', home to Equestria's newest and most controversial Princess.

Normally those that flocked to this vantage wore the attire of tourists, but there were just enough average citizens for the unassuming stranger to blend seamlessly into the crowd. Tabula Rasa was a man of average height, weight, build, and complexion. Outwardly ordinary in just about every way. A middle child, Tabula never excelled in school, nor had he done all that poorly either. That'd been the way of things for his entire life... His parents cared for him and loved him, but not to the extent they'd done so for his elder brother. The golden boy, the angel, he who could do no wrong... Then there was Tabula's younger sister, a nice enough girl, but for the unfortunate habit she'd developed regarding a certain 'herb'.

In their own ways, Tabula's siblings both monopolized the time of Mother and Father while he trudged along through life on his own. Through it all he remained quiet, not wanting to make a fuss, not going to anyone with his own problems. He was the middle child, the median, the average. There was always something more important going on, his family expected him to take care of problems himself, and so that was precisely what he'd learned to do. It'd started in third grade, when a snotty spell-caster took it upon herself to relieve him of his lunch money, so Tabula took it upon himself to relieve her of a fancy pocket watch she kept in her book-bag.

Tabula more than tripled the money he'd lost when he brought the watch to his neighborhood pawn shop, and the girl had gotten in quite a bit of trouble for losing such a valuable item. Of course, she rightly blamed him for the disappearance, but no one that'd seen the alleged theft could recall what the perpetrator looked like exactly. From that day forward, Tabula had always known that it was his averageness that would get him ahead in life... It'd been the same day he earned his cutie-mark, and his life's course towards a career in the criminal underworld was set.

For the rest of his school days he ran some of the most complex scams out there, everything from heisting term papers to blackmailing teachers. If a student wanted a grade changed, they need only look for the boy in gray... Typically it took them two or three attempts before they found him, and eventually he just hired someone to serve as an intermediary. He was all set to graduate high school and transition full time into a life of petty crime, safe in the knowledge that his average looks and build could shield him from virtually any criminal charge. Ironically, it was that very trait that'd made Tabula stand out to the Organization that would eventually become his employers.

They needed someone with his unique level of mediocrity, someone that no one could ever pick from a line up, someone who could pass the most highly trained bodyguards or security officers without notice. Tabula quickly became the best of the best, the cream of the cream, and in return for his various services he was paid quite handsomely. For nearly a decade he'd remained dedicated to his craft, seven years of moving from city to city, country to country, continent to continent, doing everything the Organization asked of him. It was the only time in his life where he'd ever actually excelled at something, but in that time he'd gotten married, had children of his own, and so he'd gradually left that life behind him. Unfortunately, much to his and his wife's consternation, he'd been forced to resume his career a year or so ago. Not nearly to such an extent as had previously been the case, but still...

The reasoning he'd been dragged out of semi-retirement was a deeply personal one. Father had been killed in a robbery, the same robbery in which Mother was shot in the back, paralyzed from the waste down. Tabula's compatriots in the Organization had been quite quick to apprehend the persons responsible, but they hadn't lived long enough to disclose their motives for the attack. The man briefly suspected they might've been his younger sister's hooligan drug addict friends, though Tree Hugger swore up and down she didn't know anything about it...

For as much as he might've disliked her taste in company, Tabula had to admit that he doubted his sister was capable of interacting with a truly bad crowd. She'd recently taken to spending her time in Ponyville, protesting outside some weapon's factory there, hardly the mindset of a violent criminal. Meanwhile, Tabula's brother Snap Shutter was off in some Zebrican backwater country with that high and mighty wife of his, all too eager to go on some moronic safari to photograph gorillas or some other animal nonsense... All while Mother struggled to so much as dress herself... Snap had even dumped his daughter, his own daughter on his sisters-in-law out in Ponyville.

Tabula and his wife had offered to take her in, he actually rather liked his niece, and she in turn got on well with his own daughters, but again the two brothers had failed to see eye to eye. Given that Mother required a great deal of care already, and he had children of his own to consider, Tabula grudgingly had to admit Snap probably had a point... Still, it ate him up to think what that girl was going through... Set aside because she 'wasn't important enough', because her parents had to make themselves martyrs for some stupid flea-bitten animals in a country on a continent that no one gave a rat's ass about... He should've been seeing to his own household first, but no...

It was because of Mother and his Niece's future that Tabula found himself stood on that street corner, in the shadow of the home of the most powerful family in the world. Honestly, he wondered just what went on behind those walls... Were the members of the Crown as tightly bound together as they led the public to believe, or were they just as screwed up and dysfunctional as everybody else. It didn't really matter, he wasn't here to wax philosophically on the merits of family.

With Tree Hugger in no position to care for her own flesh and blood, and Snap Shutter too busy to give a damn, once again it fell to Tabula Rasa to fix the problem himself. He'd taken it upon himself to acquire enough money to set Mother up with a live in caretaker, someone that could better tend to her needs. At the same time he was also putting together a trust fund and a college tuition fund, not only for his own children, but for his Niece as well. Snap Shutter and his wife were historically terrible with finances, and someone had to look out for the girl's well being. Such a gutsy child, she'd fit right in with the Organization, and Tabula had promised himself he'd never allow that future to come to pass... She deserved better.

"Lovely weather we're having today." A pegasus woman spoke up beside him, shaking him from his deeper thoughts. She was dressed smartly in a suit of her own, her eyes concealed beneath almost entirely opaque sunglasses. Tabula recognized her instantly, this wasn't the first time they'd done business before, though it was shaping up to be the most lucrative. Lucrative enough to at least finish setting up Mother's finances for the rest of her life. The woman held a black briefcase, broken up by polished brass furnishings, very high end judging by the look of it.

"Indeed, but it's best to keep an umbrella on hand... Just in case." Tabula hummed quietly, taking a drag on his cigarette. With seamless synchronicity, the two of them started walking out of the crowd and along the sidewalk, remaining within sight of the Castle walls. After a few minutes they were on a stretch of open concrete, no other pedestrians coming or going past them. Several posters for the upcoming Canterlot election were pasted to the side of a building, an old looking Prench bistro. Tabula briefly eyed the patrons seated at tables outside, but none of them stood out to him as members of the Opposition.

"Did you get what we asked for?" The woman asked quietly, waiting until after the bistro was behind them. Tabula's expression remained more or less calm, but he tucked his hand into his suit pocket. After a few moments he fished out an unassuming brass key, dangling from a simple leather key chain. The woman reached for it, but Tabula held it back.

"Ah ah ah... Money first." Tabula responded evenly, clasping the key in his hands behind his back. The woman nodded understandingly, glancing down at the briefcase before seamlessly handing it over. It certainly weighed a lot, enough that Tabula wasn't too worried about its contents. He'd gotten quite used to carrying briefcases filled with large sums of money, as well as other assorted things, as a regular part of his profession. Sometimes people tried to deceive him by filling the case with phone books, but not this woman... From the weight and feel of it, Tabula could safely deduce there were two-million Bits in hundred Bit bills stashed within. "Go to Storage Locker B on the second floor of Canterlot Central Station. Be sure you use them as quickly as possible, the security protocols have been changing randomly of late." The woman nodded simply, seamlessly taking the key from Tabula.

"A couple questions..." The woman started, typically Tabula would've ignored her and just walked away, but he had just been paid two-million Bits, and that entitled her to a few questions... Besides, she was his best customer, and in this line of work it was very rare to find a client that could consistently bring him good work. The man turned to look at her, puffing on his cigarette as they continued walking. "The people I work for are looking for the people you work for..." Tabula raised his hand to stop her. "I don't want the major players, just give me the name of someone that might be able to help my associates find a buyer for a certain item."

"What sort of item, and what sort of buyer?" Tabula asked cautiously, eyes glancing back and forth along the street. He didn't see anyone approaching them on the ground, but that didn't mean there weren't pegasi circling overhead, or spell-casters waiting to teleport in.

"The sort of antique a discerning collector of the darker arcane arts might enjoy." The woman's tone was just as cautious, and Tabula had to stop and think for a moment. He always hated when people wanted to sell magical items, especially those of an illicit kind.

Most of the people that got into that sort of deal wound up dead, except those that were very good, people like Tabula for example. Of course, there were plenty of people that dealt in artifacts among the Organization, but only if the item was genuine. There were plenty of people out there looking to find a 'buyer' of late. Most of them belonged to the Opposition Agents, operatives from SMILE or the Canterlot Royal Guard. Tabula pursed his lips, looking down at the briefcase in his hand.

He had enough money there for Mother, the goal had finally been achieved. Of course he'd have to turn over a percentage to the Organization, but that was just the cost of doing freelance work. He didn't owe this woman anything more than the key he'd already given her... Then again, just because he had enough money for Mother didn't mean he had enough money for the rest of his priorities.

"I assume there's a generous facilitator's fee in all of this?" Queried Tabula, to which the woman responded with a subtle nod. By now they were approaching another crowd of pedestrians. "My associates and I know a couple guys that might be interested." The man stated cautiously, narrowing his eyes at the woman as the crowd drew closer. "I'll leave you a list at our typical meeting spot... I expect to be paid, regardless of if you guys come to a deal." The woman appeared to mull over his demands, then nodded emotionlessly. "Alright then... Pleasure doing business with you."

With that Tabula walked ahead of the woman and into the crowed, briefcase of money in hand. He assumed the posture and gait of several other businessmen around him, and to the outside observer it would appear that the man in gray merely... Vanished into thin air.

Chapter 23

There was a certain art to reading the tangled web of thought that was a Changeling hive-mind, only the sensitive and the powerful could do so with much clarity. That was what made the difference between an average female and a Queen... The ability to serve as a sort of overseer to the far flung network of individual consciousness, molding it like clay, with an eye towards a greater purpose. Queens generally could sense when something wasn't quite right within that network, and typically that tended to point towards rebellion and discontentment, or perhaps even a coups...

What tormented the dwindling sanity of Queen Chrysalis, however, was as bizarre in its abstractness as it was sickening in its sensation. No one in her hive could comprehend it, none of her healers could feel it, and she was beginning to doubt any believed her claims to be genuine... Something, or somethings, squirmed among the web in an unnatural way, sometimes only momentarily, sometimes for hours on end. They wriggled and slithered through Chrysalis' mind, writhing like maggots in rotting flesh, occasionally fooling her with the phantom odor of embalming chemicals and tobacco smoke.

For fractions at a time, she might even glimpse a dark and dingy chamber, men in suits looming over her... Speaking, as if she wasn't even there. They'd be staring down at her coldly, impassively, smoking cigarettes and conversing in unintelligible whispers. The visions were all the more unsettling because she was certain that she had never been in such a room... It was too vivid to be a dream, and so Chrysalis could only assume that it stemmed from those unwanted interlopers in the web... Perhaps it was something they had seen, that they were trying to communicate to her? Were that the case, the Queen wanted nothing to do with it, or them.

Most days she could keep her composure, so long as she sat in silent and uninterrupted meditation. Other occasions, those were she was inundated with troubles throughout the hive, there was just nothing she could do to keep those wretched unnatural sensations way. Things were worst when the hive-mind was calmer than usual, almost unnaturally so, and it was in those silent moments that Chrysalis swore she could hear the interlopers calling out to her... Broadcasting their sickening desires directly into her consciousness, urges of such a primal nature they could only be encoded into those strange creature's very being...

"Get out! Get out! Get! Out!" The Queen's voice suddenly shrieked through her chambers as she lay curled upon the floor, her skin bare save for the blanket taken from her bed. She'd wrapped it around herself like a cocoon, much as her Mother had done with her when she was but a nymph, it was one of the few things that brought her comfort anymore... As if worrying about keeping her people fed and dealing with a recent encroachment of dragons into the badlands wasn't enough, now there were wicked abominations playing on her mind, toying with her perceptions in new horrific ways.

Every night her dreams were filled with images of such unadulterated depravity. Twisted black forms swarming through vast cities, cities Chrysalis had never seen before, filled with peoples speaking tongues she'd never heard. Every one of them was ravaged by flames, the skies rent by towering tornadoes of flame, terrified inhabitants ripped to shreds and consumed with such vivid clarity that it was as if Chrysalis herself were the one responsible. Their shrieks of fear haunted her so ardently that even the faintest creak of a door's hinge felt enough to send her into gibbering panic, desperately searching for somewhere to hide, to blot out the screams... Nowhere was safe, for how could she hope to escape her own mind?

Changelings were a parasitic race, a fact Chrysalis saw no harm in... It was natural for them to occasionally raid their neighbors, just as the dragons regularly went up against the Equestrians. There was always a code of conduct that hives were expected to adhere to... Just as farmers might diversify their crops, or hunters would limit their number of kills, so too did the hives abide by similar methods of conservation. It was the only way to ensure that their prey not only remained numerous, but also to keep from drawing too much infamy that the prey banded together for protection. The beings that tormented her now, however, held to no such code. Destroy... Burn... Pillage... Consume... Repeat, until there was absolutely nothing left but bones and ashes.

Chrysalis' Mother had succumb to the sensation of madness very rapidly, and in many respects she suspected the late Queen to be the lucky one. Tempo's kind sensibilities and desire for the betterment of all her subjects had made her exceptionally sensitive to the horror. It was no wonder to Chrysalis why that sweet, if slightly misguided, reformer of a woman so rapidly deteriorated into a shivering mess.

Starvation had been the ultimate cause of death, for Tempo could not bear the sight of any form of meat, or bring herself to absorb the love offered her, without turning away in disgust... Chrysalis herself struggled to keep every meal down, because every bite she took was accompanied by those fiendishly violent demands for more blood... The whispering urges demanded she devour the hearts and brains of her victims, for that was where she... They... It... Would find the most emotional nutrients...

What spawn of the blackest abyss could play upon the hive-mind, could toy with her thoughts as a cat plays with yarn? Where were the voices coming from? Her spies could tell her nothing, for they could find no sign of any 'rogue' hives that engaged in such debauched destruction. Surely the entire known world would know if there were, for the cities that burned in her mind's eye were too large to go unnoticed in their destruction. All Chrysalis could think to do to survive was to sate the voices, to heed their demands of conquest, as quickly as possible.

She couldn't help but hope that maybe, if she subdued the Equestrians and took control of their love, that would be enough to satiate the frightful urges... The food shortages would stop once and for all, for the rest of her subjects at least, and her people could gorge until the voices prevailed no longer. Deep down, however, she knew that wouldn't be the end of it... It would never end, the interlopers would once again hunger for blood, and by then... Chrysalis might not be in a position to fight them as she did now.

She'd need to focus all of her energy on that alone, as that was the only way she could think to prevent them from taking hold of her body, or worse... The entire hive-mind. Sooner or later that would happen, she would be forced to watch herself overcome by madness. Already she could see it happening, her fixation on the Equestrians... Was it really her trying to sate the voices, or was that what they wanted her to think? She was getting so turned around, her thoughts often conflicted with one another. How could she hope to untangle that web and rule her hive?

A knock on the door to her chambers briefly drew the Queen from her spiraling inner turmoil, and it took all of Chrysalis' willpower to rise from the floor and stagger to her throne at the center of the room. She had dismissed her attendants for the time being, as it wouldn't do to have them see the Queen in such a state. That made it all the more clear that this was likely a message of great importance. Discarding the blanket, she seated her bare form in the throne and cleared her throat, gripping the armrests with trembling white knuckles, hoping to hide the terror that gripped at her soul... If she even had such a thing anymore...

"E-Enter!" Chrysalis declared in as steady a voice she could muster, the doors opened moments later, and a familiar handsome man stepped into view. With the door closing behind him, Supreme General Pharynx entered and bowed respectfully, his new red shoulder cape flourishing as he did so.

The flowing garment, a symbol of his new lofty rank, was secured sturdily about his shoulders, fluttering absently as he straightened to his full height. His aspect was stoic and professional, just as Chrysalis had come to expect of him. Try as he might to hide them from her, Chrysalis could sense through the hive-mind that he too harbored his doubts... Her mad ravings were hardly a secret within the Under Hive, but where generally the other nobles responded with barely hidden ridicule, General Pharynx exuded an air that seemed genuinely concerned and... Angry with her.

"General Pharynx..." Chrysalis continued smoothly, biting her lower lip with a growing sense of her own anxiety. "Have our spies finally reported the disposition of Princess Orzel?" The General clasped his hands behind his back before shaking his head, and for a fraction of a second those violent urges bade her to lunge forward and destroy him for his 'failure'. "Why not!?" Chrysalis shouted louder, and more ferociously, than she'd intended.

"Our agents visited the temple the Princess previously frequented, but report she has not been present for prayer services in months." Pharynx stated bluntly, maintaining his calm facade with a remarkable degree of professionalism. Chrysalis could sense another burst of indignation at her tone on Pharynx's part, but for now allowed the impudence to pass unchallenged. "Further investigation indicates that she may have departed the Equestrian mainland entirely. We have a few leads within the Equestrian Navy that point to somewhere in the Luna Ocean, but nothing more concrete than that." The man continued in an even tone.

The voices cried out for her to kill him where he stood, to rip him open and feast on his corpse, to bathe herself in his blood... Struggling mightily against those urges, Chrysalis managed to produce a small growl of annoyed acceptance.

"There's more..." Pharynx added with only slight reluctance, his posture stiffening. "The Equestrians know of our recent infiltrations, several of our operatives in their Nocturne Agency report that their duties have gradually been shifting. They've taken steps to evade capture until new identities can be created for them elsewhere. Others have failed to make contact or reach their respective rendezvous points, and a few even report that the Agency may have agents of another hive in their custody as we speak." Chrysalis' eyes widened at that, and once again those voices screamed at her, told her of their hunger, of their desires... It took all her willpower not to submit, or vomit at the disgusting images.

"While I doubt the Equestrians will catch them all, it is nonetheless clear that we have lost the element of surprise." The General paused for a moment, appearing faintly unsettled... That wasn't uncommon, powerful emotions commonly radiated from a Queen when her subjects were within close proximity. Undeterred, the man continued in that typical professional tone of his. "I suspect the departure of Princess Orzel is another move to hamper our progress."

"Further investigation indicates she possesses a martially oriented personality, as we expected of her draconic origins. I have no doubt she would lead the Equestrian counterattack with characteristic tenacity, without any thought towards a negotiated surrender." Pharynx didn't flinch, even with Chrysalis growling so furiously as the General supplied her with more bad news. "Any attempt at a decapitation strike without eliminating her from the equation would therefore prove futile, our invasion of Canterlot will be doomed to failure if we cannot ascertain her location."

The Queen briefly considered ordering him to go ahead with the attack regardless, especially at the mention of 'eliminating' Princess Orzel. For some reason the voices were remarkably insistent about that, almost as if... Almost as if they were acting out of animalistic fear. Chrysalis didn't know what about a teenaged dragon girl could be so terrifying to creatures with such violent appetites, but that alone was enough to prompt the woman to hesitate on her ordering the invasion. There was also another matter, just as pressing as the departure of one of the key members of the Crown... That matter being the evidence that the Badland's Hive wasn't the only hive taking steps against Equestria...

"What of these other agents? Those that are of another hive. Have our operatives contacted them?" Chrysalis asked in her brief moment of renewed control, though she doubted that lucidity would last very long. Pharynx shook his head, gaining yet another one of those serious expressions of his.

"No, your Majesty." The General stated simply, looking off to the side, as if pondering how best to continue. "Our reports indicate they have attacked a military installation under Nocturne control, and may even have been involved in the assassination of the Agency's Director. There's rumor they might even be planning other hostile acts of sabotage on Equestrian soil."

Chrysalis could feel her control rapidly fading away, of course one of the other Hives would attempt to stick its nose into things... For all she knew, that hive might well be attempting to draw the wrath of the Equestrians against the Badlands Hive. It was a classic tactic of their race, incite too powerful rivals to fight one another, stoking the fires along the way, until both parties were too weak to carry on... Then swoop in and overwhelm the depleted enemy force. Unaware of the Queen's inner frustration, Pharynx continued on.

"Were we to contact these agents and be caught in the act, our Hive would appear just as guilty as theirs. In the event they themselves enter a full on conflict with the Equestrians, it would be best to appear as uninvolved in possible, to limit cause for retribution." The man paused momentarily, maintaining a serious expression. "Speaking of retribution, their recent success against dragon raids have driven some of the unaffiliated clans to venture into our domain, most likely to seek a means of flanking the now battle hardened militias on the Lone Star border. I am having several units... Dispatched... To... Shadow them..." By now Chrysalis was no longer able to restrain the various strong emotions radiating across the hive-mind. "Are you feeling well, your Majesty?"

"Ye-.. N-..." Chrysalis stammered, suddenly taking her hands from the armrests and grabbing at her head. It was all unraveling, without the element of surprise there was no way to beat the Equestrians.

No way to conquer, no means of 'consuming', or sating those terrible voices of creatures that should not have been. Now the dragons were encroaching onto her territory, her hive's ancient sovereign birthright! She was failing! She was failing at everything! The solution seemed obvious, send a raiding party against the dragon raiders. Ensnare them! Bring them back to the hive! Consume their love, and that was gone, consume them entirely! Rage! Rage! With the powerful emotions of dragons it would be possible to feed so many more soldiers, they could raise a mighty army, and then the world would be theirs!

"Help me..." The Queen managed through gritted teeth, fighting like mad to constrain the unleashed desires for bloodshed that'd nearly overwhelmed her. Struggling to her feet, Chrysalis staggered towards the bewildered General. Pharynx quickly moved to her aid, his typical stoic expression replaced by one of genuine concern. "You h-have no doubt heard the rumors of my... Ravings..." She continued tiredly, allowing the man to put arm around his shoulders for support.

"Indeed I have, your Majesty." Pharynx admitted honestly, just as was always the case... Honest ones were rare, especially among Changelings. The General helped steady his Queen, moving her towards her bed and grabbing the blanket from the floor. "I do not know the extent to which they are true." Chrysalis grinned painfully as Pharynx draped the blanket around the Queen's shoulders.

"There is s-something... Toying with the hive-mind. Y-You cannot sense it as a Queen can." Chrysalis explained as the General helped her to sit on the edge of her bed, where she once more held the blanket tight around herself. "They speak to me all day... S-Shows me things, as they s-showed my Mother. Terrible, terrible things..." The woman shook herself, her hands trembling as chills racked her body. "T-The voices... They want me to k-kill you..."

"They want me to eat people! Not just their emotion, b-but their bodies..." She added with tears welling in her eyes. "If I fail to fight them, they will undoubtedly take control of me... If I die, they will almost instantly overwhelm whoever is chosen to replace me... They will not be able to resist the madness as I have!" She cast a look at the floor. "I f-fear they may already be in control of other Hives, as you mentioned earlier..." Pharynx regained his expression of cold command, sighing heavily through his nose.

"What must I do...? Should I get your guards? The healers?" Pharynx asked his Queen solemnly, but the trembling young woman merely shook her head. If she called for guards or healers she would undoubtedly order them to do something drastic, something she couldn't undo. No... Not 'she'... The voices that bayed and snapped like the hounds of madness, and it was all the Queen could do to keep them in check.

The best thing for everyone involved was for her to remain apart from the powers she wielded as Queen, only then could she focus on combating the voices. It had to be done, but the voices... The voices realized what she was planning, and at once a splitting headache erupted into being, forcing her to suppress a cry of pain. Pharynx's eyes widened again as Chrysalis felt a warm rivulet of liquid emerge from her nose, when she brought her hand to her face she was disheartened to see a smear of brightly glowing green blood that came away. The pain, coupled with the increasing protest of those beings of purest evil, briefly robbed the Queen of her self control. She hissed bestially at Pharynx, nearly lunging at him with bared teeth, but the warrior had little trouble restraining her long enough for her faculties to return.

"I need only the Keeper of Tomes and the Chief Magician..." Chrysalis managed with heaving breaths, looking towards the door, then down at her hands. An image played across her eyes of one of those hands, embedded in the gut of a woman in armor, covered in crimson blood, though the hand was not her own. There was someone screaming off to the side, a child by the sounds of it, and ring of fire that encircled them both entirely. "If I am to maintain control of the hive-mind, I m-must give it my full attention..." She looked at Pharynx with apologetic realization. "There is yet another task I must place on your shoulders, General." The man raised an eyebrow. "Our hive will need a ruler of sound mind, far sounder than my own... At least until the source of these damnable voices has been found and destroyed!" She said the last word with a particular relish, as if even the utterance of the syllables filled her with an unhinged glee.

"You will b-become that ruler..." Chrysalis chuckled as a look of greater fear and shock crossed Pharynx's features, but the trembling woman could only nod in confirmation. She had gone mad, even she realized that not, but from that madness came a sort of... Clarity. This was bigger than her, bigger than the ruthless ideas of expansion she'd once embraced. "Mother s-spoke fondly of you, General... She said you were a man on whom I could rely..." She looked back at the floor, clenching her eyes shut and trying to banish more images.

"Should another hive's Queen succumb to this madness, and s-she will do something foolish..." Chrysalis stated with as much restraint as she could muster. "You are correct in your assessment... We, as the closest hive to the Equestrians, w-will be the first they blame... It is not h-helped that they have discovered our own a-a-agents..." She couldn't help chuckling at that, likely only making it further clear to Pharynx just how deeply the unhinged voices had driven her. "Y-You must find t-the source of these voices, I know you cannot hear them, but..." The General nodded quietly at her. "I... I have indulged th-their blood lust for too long... F-Forgive me!"

"I shall do as you ask, my Queen..." Pharynx agreed with more of trademarked quiet, thoughtful solemnity, obviously realizing just what it would mean if the Equestrians were attacked in earnest. Never mind that Chrysalis had been plotting to do the same thing themselves, it was clear in Pharynx's eyes that he understood the situation was well past that being an option now. Not only because they'd lost the element of surprise, but also judging by the Queen's own current state.

The Equestrians couldn't know that there was more than one hive, each as different as the last, spread throughout the world. Any attack by those hives would paint Chrysalis' hive as the aggressors, and then... She shivered of her own accord, as there were no illusions what would happen if ever the Equestrians were enraged to such a point they'd actually wage war. They were a silly, fun loving, people... Friendly, peaceful, slow to anger. It took a great deal to earn their wrath, and there were some that viewed this as weakness... She'd been among that camp, for a time.

She could only shudder as she imagined what would happen if ever the Equestrians were pushed beyond their breaking point... The retaliation of aggressive and confrontational forces tended to be predictable, but the fury of the quiet, the patient, and the calm could in some cases eclipse even the most bloodthirsty of dragons. It could only be hoped that something would be done before that destructive possibility emerged into reality... Before the Equestrians were provoked into conflict, for all the world would descend into war.

Situated some twenty-five stories underground, there were few levels within the confines of Site R below that of Orzel's private laboratory, all of which pertained to maintenance or geothermal power regulation. Her lab was illuminated by bright steadily humming fluorescent lamps, with space enough to easily accommodate a team of twenty researchers if necessary, though Orzel continued to remain its sole occupant.

The lab was everything she could've hoped for and more, with sterile blue linoleum floor tiles, and pristine white walls, lined with counter tops, cupboards, and drawers, all of which contained just about anything Orzel could ever possibly need, not to mention a few things she didn't need. It'd been furnished with hundreds of test tubes and beakers, a healthy number of burners, flasks, mixers, microscopes, centrifuges, crucibles, evaporators, and all manner of other machines.

There was equipment at her disposal that Orzel would've thought confined to the realm of a science fiction novel five months ago, and it was all hers to do with as she pleased. Many were festooned with buttons, dials, flashing lights, oscilloscopes and cathode ray tube monitors, even 'reel-to-reel' computing machines. According to Nocturne Agency records, a great many of these wondrous inventions had been derived from technology left in the wake of the Ancients, even then achieving only a fraction of what the long lost builders of the Pulauapi installation had been capable of.

They were at the very least thirty or forty years ahead of anything Orzel had seen on the mainland, even with their construction widely limited by the materials and methods available to the modern world. Nonetheless, they were more than capable of helping the Princess to peer beyond the very fabric of the cosmos as never before.

Of course, there was more to a lab than shiny equipment. As requested, there was also a cabinet for personal protective equipment, a chemical decontamination shower, an eye wash station, first aid kits, panic button, and plenty of fire extinguishers. Several pairs of doors lined the various sides of the room, each leading to what Orzel termed a 'Contamination Minimization Chamber'. An 'air-lock' between the lab and whatever chamber was beyond.

One led to her fabrication workshop, offering a room where she could change out of her clean lab wear and into more appropriate machining attire... They also possessed decontamination showers, to minimize the risk of her tracking anything in from the adjacent room that might compromise the sterile conditions of the lab proper. The other sets of doors each connected to Orzel's drafting room and enchanting chamber respectively. The drafting room in particular also housed a 'Panic Room', with access to an emergency air ventilation system with an adjacent escape shaft, and enough food and water rations to last a month, just in case the hatch to the escape shaft became jammed.

Honestly, if Basilisk Defense Technologies didn't pan out, Orzel might very well want to stay with ARMA. Considering Luna wasn't likely to abdicate the throne any time soon, it might be a fun adventure. Especially now that Orzel was granted greater access to the island's communal facilities, even if it hadn't gone exactly as the girl might've hoped. She'd come a long way from a few months ago, and though she wasn't feeling 'super', this was probably the best she'd consistently felt mentally since her arrival to Equestria... She still had bad days, and on more than one occasion she'd had 'flashbacks', but... It was easier to deal with the pain, easier to accept things that were beyond her control.

A lot of that was thanks to Doctor Scratch and her faith, but... Being totally on her own for so long, cooking for herself again, cleaning her residence, falling into a steady and rewarding routine. In the end, Orzel had managed to for the most part move on. There were still matters she wished were different, the fact that Sokol's remains still remained in Agency custody for starters, but by now she accepted that things would never be the same again... The grief still hurt, the fear still shot through her, and yet the effect they had on her was easier to manage.

She had more than enough new things to worry about, so moving on from the old ones was certainly a welcome respite. Her expanded access throughout Site R sprang to mind, which as previously stated hand't gone entirely according to plan. There was certainly quite a stir among when 'Researcher Boyegolovka' first entered the cafeteria, and not just because she managed to snag the last bottle of root beer. Apparently everyone had expected someone of her reputation for innovative ideas to be much... Older.

In hindsight, giving a face to the name probably made things more difficult than they otherwise would've been. Her age was the familiar issue that Orzel had encountered for as long as she'd been a Princess. Now those that decried her theories not only disagreed with them, they felt themselves entitled to lecture her as if she were some sort of simpleton. It was also the first time she'd ever encountered people outside of Canterlot that didn't think all that highly of dragons, or their cognitive abilities... One had even gone so far as to refer to her as a 'knuckle dragging savage', though obviously without intending for her to understand it.

Orzel attributed a lot of their confidence in saying such things to the fiction that she couldn't fluently speak or understand spoken Equestrian. That was a blessing in disguise... Better she knew how people really felt about her, rather than having them hide those thoughts behind platitudes. The Princess had since gotten quite good at pretending not to understand people, and that certainly helped in getting them to leave her alone. Not that she was afraid of them, or afraid to defend her work. Her time was just better spent actually working, as opposed to being talked down to as some sort of malcontent juvenile delinquent at best, and 'dimwitted' at worst.

At present, her efforts were focused on the closer examination of her Monolith pendant under a microscope... She'd performed a few more thorough tests using an Arcane Radiation Device, and discovered that it actually had some sort of enchantment... At first she'd figured the runes had been rendered invisible, but... That wasn't the case. It possessed a considerably complicated defensive ward, somehow able to read not only the danger presented by an enchanted item, but the severity of that danger as well... It didn't seem like much, but in the context of the threats Nocturne Agents regularly dealt with in the field, such distinctions could literally mean the difference between life or death.

Orzel idly drummed her fingers upon the counter top of one of the many lab islands that took up the center of the room. She'd examined nearly every centimeter of the pendant with painstaking care, moving millimeter by millimeter, searching for the final piece that might reveal to her precisely how the necklace did what it did. The Princess was close to something, she could feel it in her bones, and that her more than a little giddy. The only sounds surrounding Orzel were the consistent steady hum of the air vents, occasionally interrupted by a bleep or bloop from the various machines. These were broken up every now and then by the anxious tapping of the Princess's foot against the floor.

So far she'd found what at first appeared to be simple scratches in the gold, as one might expect of typical wear and tear. Upon closer inspection, it turned out that the scratches were actually latent stylus markings of an impossibly small size. Normally seeing scratches of such a nature wouldn't be unusual, it was actually quite normal. Every enchanted item had at least a few latent markings, no enchanter's grip was perfectly steady, and occasionally their hand might stray a millimeter or two in one direction or another.

The scratches in this case were different, as there weren't any runes visible around them... The Princess saw no sign of the runes having been removed, nor that they'd been rendered invisible by magical means. That left her with more questions than answers. Taking a deep breath through her nose, the Princess sighed and moved the pendant a little further up, until one of the large rubies adorning its surface passed into view.

It was an absolutely beautiful stone, and Orzel was quite certain it would taste delicious, were she ever to consider eating it... Which she wouldn't. That wasn't to say the ruby was totally flawless either, there were several impurities visible within the center of the stone itself. Or were there...? Orzel quietly adjusted the angle of the pendant, slowly, meticulously, until finally...

"What in the name of the Goddess...?" Orzel mumbled in stunned Szafirian, quickly moving to adjust the magnification on the microscope. She was just as careful with that as she was moving the pendant itself, carefully moving the dial and bringing the image into greater focus. What greeted her searching eye was nothing short of astonishing... Runes, some of which she recognized, but... Not from any modern setting.

There were some that appeared identical to markings she'd seen on her family's sword, but how could that be? According to Seeker Topaz, the pendant was only a couple centuries old, well after her people had gone extinct on this world... Thinking back on the night, she recalled that he'd told her how it'd been given to him... Perhaps it'd been passed down throughout the years from one Seeker to another, and thus was older than Orzel initially assumed.

The age of the piece wasn't what baffled her though... What truly stunned her, truly left her speechless, was the fact that these runes were of such an incredibly minute size that they should have been impossible. Each symbol was no wider than a hair's breadth, and clustered in impossibly tight groupings of six or eight. Orzel was good, very good, but not that good. Whoever had created this piece truly had to be a 'Master Enchanter', in every sense of the word.

The real kicker was that the runes were perfect. Not just created by an expert hand, they were absolutely flawless, with many of them identical to a degree beyond human normal capability. The technology to create an enchantment of such minute size with a mechanical precision did not exist yet. Orzel had only just started experimenting along that front, with limited success... Now it was about more than discovering the nature of the pendants enchantments, now the Princess needed to know just where, or when, this pendant had come from.

Leaning back from the microscope, the girl picked up a nearby pen and scribed everything she'd discovered thus far into a waiting notebook. Once finished there, she grabbed both the notebook and the necklace, her lab coat flaring as she deftly moved across the room. Her eyes were set upon one of the innumerable machines she'd been using in her enchanting research of late. It stood out among the others in that this one lacked an appearance of mass production, that was because Orzel had built it herself. It also had the distinction of a large 'Radiation Hazard!' placard painted on its side. There was nothing else like it in all the world, at least... Nothing that was in a useable condition.

The Princess opened a nearby drawer, quickly setting the necklace and notebook on the counter beside the machine. Within the drawer she found a dozen crimson colored crystals, perfectly aligned with one another, just as she'd left them. Picking up one of the satin smooth stones, she closed the drawer and depressed her thumb onto the center of the gem. It glowed a dull crimson, and so she proceeded to set it neatly on the island.

"Audio log two-hundred-ninety-eight pertaining to the examination of Personal Enchanted Item Zero-Zero-Seven, hereafter referred to as 'Pendant' or 'Artifact'. Researcher Boyegolovka recording." Orzel spoke in standard draconic, unable to hide the excitement rising in her voice. "Upon microscopic analysis of the artifact, I have discovered what appear to be impossibly small runes, somehow etched inside of one of the rubies adorning the pendant! Confirmation of the discovery is contingent on a battery of tests I intend to run regarding the artifact's passive thaumatergic energy levels."

"Should the results prove in line with my suspicions, it would potentially upend everything modern enchanters know about the history of our craft! Enchantments of such a size could be the key to developing new advancements in fields I could only speculate upon... Medical devices, aircraft instrumentation, body armor, the potential is virtually limitless! I shall resume this log upon the completion of the tests. I await the results with eager anticipation."

After deactivating the crystal, Orzel's eyes darted over the machine, which was just about as tall as she was. She'd given it a name that was exceptionally long and difficult for most Equestrian's to pronounce, or spell, on account of its heavy reliance on a long forked tongue. The closest Equestrian translation was 'Electromagnetic Confinement Lens Amplified Stygiometer Mark 1', or the much more manageable 'EMCLAS Mk. 1'. Checking that all the power indicators were in the off position, Orzel opened the machine's heavy lead and Wolfram-Arcanium alloy lined door, the outer edges of which supported a black rubber gasket material.

The interior of the machine was lined with the same wolfram-arcanium alloy, every surface of which had been scribed with pulsating green runes. Behind these lining plates were a collection of enchanted amber colored octagonal gems, each of which had been carefully machined to act as a Fresnel lens. Together they focused arcane energy into the chamber, bombarding its contents with magic. The 'Arcane Lenses' were backed by several large electromagnets, utilized to refine the intensity of the beam, and prevent potentially harmful arcane radiation from escaping the test chamber. To that end Orzel had also included a layer of lead shielding.

It was the magnets that really what allowed Orzel to fine tune the parameters of EMCLAS tests to such precise specifications. The device itself was Orzel's modern take on a very old and relatively unknown machine, known as a 'Stygiometer'. The first such device had been developed at least two-thousand years, perhaps even longer than that. Of course, the technology of the time meant it was prone to failing, not to mention no one understood what Arcane Radiation actually was... So most mages that wound up using one sooner or later dropped dead from Acute Arc-Rad Syndrome. All of which had contributed to the Stygiometer fading into obscurity. The Wolfram-Arcanium alloy plates Orzel used were probably enough to protect her, but it was best not to take chances on that sort of thing.

Orzel had always figured there was a way to actually measure magic, or 'thaumatergic energy' as it was scientifically called, and indeed there was. The information was just so remarkably archaic that even she had managed to initially overlook the books pertaining to it.

The most accurate unit of measure she'd found was what was known as a 'Stygian', hence the name 'Stygiometer'. As the name might've suggested, it was used to divine the level of thaumatergic energy in a given item in Stygians. The unit itself was named for the man that'd developed it, well into Equestria's past, before there really was an Equestria to speak about. Measuring Stygians was a lot of complicated math, but generally boiled down to a number that, in layman terms, could be used to determine how powerful a given item or person was...

In the case of enchanted items, it could also reveal its remaining energy level, the rate of decay, and what it's original level had been. Through that, Orzel could get a decent estimation of when the item was created, to within a margin of error of five to seven years.

Typical background Stygians ranged between five-hundred and nine-hundred Mili-Stygians, while average spell-casters measured eight-hundred Stygians. A professional mage such as Twilight Sparkle could probably go into the range of two or three Kilo-Stygians. Orzel's last measurement was something akin to four Mega-Stygians... Between her arcane signature's similarity to Luna's, and the Kwarczkie's natural abilities as magic users, that number had steadily been creeping up as she practiced her craft with increasing frequency.

Four Mega-Stygians was certainly powerful, but nowhere near the level of alicorns and other 'Ultra Magic Users' like Piercing Gaze, all of whom, reached into what were known as 'Tera-Stygians', or one-trillion Stygians... Aunt Celestia evidently lingered somewhere around one-hundred-fifty Tera-Stygians, while Mother came in at one-hundred-eighty-nine and Piercing Gaze at a whopping three-hundred-ten Tera-Stygians. Mister Gaze was an adept warper of reality itself, able to bend the powers of space, time, and substance to his will with the snap of a finger. So, in retrospect, the obscene amount of magic her family had at their disposal really didn't surprise Orzel.

She had to take a moment to calm herself with a few deep breaths, focusing her thoughts back on the task at hand. For as safe as she'd made things, the EMCLAS was nonetheless a device with the power to do serious harm. Much like handling a firearm, operating it without an appropriate level of care could prove deadly. Placing the pendant carefully at the center of the testing chamber, Orzel closed the door with a heavy 'ka-thunk'. Next she spun a locking wheel at the center, much as one would expect to find on a bank vault. The inch thick titanium locking bolts extended with a steady ratcheting clatter, seating themselves snugly into their respective receptacles.

There was a very specific order in which the machine had to be prepared, another safety measure Orzel included, on the off chance anyone ever came poking around her lab. First she flipped the 'Master Power' switch, prompting an amber light above the switch panel to spring into life. Next came the 'System Sync.' switch, which had the effect of starting up several of the nearby computer reel cabinets, while also giving life a large nearby control console, about the size of a small sofa.

Biting her lower lip in anticipation, Orzel pressed and held two buttons on the side of the machine labeled 'Bake-Out' and 'Atmo. Purge', filling the lab with the sound of a droning motor and the steady hiss of air being evacuated from the test chamber. At that moment, the EMCLAS test enclosure was being heated to a higher temperature, so as to coax out any gasses that might result from impurities in the metal, and would thus lessen the effect of the vacuum. It'd also be enough to sterilize or burn off any contaminants. Watching a gauge on the outer housing, Orzel held her fingers on the buttons until the test chamber was completely depressurized. When it was clear that the vacuum was holding steady, she moved on to the next step of the process.

Flipping the 'H.M. Fault Check' switch prompted the device to emit a high pitched whine, the circuit drawing a high amount of power from Site R's grid to charge a series of large capacitors. It'd been tricky, working out how to turn electricity into raw magic, and that process tended to produce considerable heat. A large amount of the EMCLAS' considerable bulk was dedicated to a series of powerful fans and a water recirculation pump. Six green lights came on beneath the switch panel, cascading one after the other, each verifying that there were no faults detected in the Heat Management circuitry.

The fans were still spinning up when Orzel turned her attention to a CRT monitor mounted in the large control console beside the EMCLAS proper. Its face was lined with dozens of flashing lights, buttons and gauges, as well as something very much akin to a typewriter, which the people of ARMA called a 'keyboard'. Orzel pulled up one of the innumerable stools situated through her lab and took a seat in front of the keyboard, eyes darting over the various inputs and outputs listed on the screen.

In the beginning Orzel spent much of her time 'hunting and pecking' the letters, which took a considerably longer time than she would've liked. By now, however, she'd become quite adept at typing, her fingers dancing across the board like lightning. Dozens of loud clacking sounds echoed throughout the laboratory, with Orzel pausing occasionally to double check what she'd typed so far. An improperly placed decimal point or unaccounted for extra zero could void whatever results she got from her test, so she had to check and re-check everything at least three times.

It took her maybe twenty minutes to finish setting the test parameters, as well as the number of cycles the EMCLAS was supposed to be run through. For now she settled on one-hundred, what Orzel considered to be the minimum acceptable sample size. In terms of time, it'd be at least ten hours before she'd get the results. With the final numbers set, and the tape reels ready to collect the data, the Princess turned her attention to the buttons on the console. Reaching into the pocket of her lab coat, the Princess withdrew a sizable ring of keys. Flipping through them, she settled on one, then inserted it into a lock mounted in the console. Turning it from the 'Safe' to 'Armed' position caused a red Bakelite button cover to pop up, revealing a round black button labeled 'Execute'.

Orzel pressed the button, and within moments the lab was filled with another sound. A steady thrumming electronic drone emanating from the EMCLAS, the start of the test's first cycle. Withdrawing the key from the safety lock, Orzel looked over the machine she'd spent so much time working to start... Admittedly she might've made the device a little too safe, at the very least she'd gone out of her way to make things complicated. Each system had at least one redundancy, and the device itself would shut down immediately were anything to go wrong. Given the EMCLAS could put out enough radiation to deliver a lethal dose to anyone in the room in a matter of minutes, perhaps she'd been just cautious enough.

Double checking that the various radiation monitors placed in the console were within safe parameters, Orzel stood up and grabbed a small yellow cylinder from a cup on top of the console. It might've been mistaken for a pen, were it not for the lack of a writing point, or the somewhat intimidating radiation hazard symbol. Tucking the quartz fiber dosimeter into her breast pocket, Orzel could finally move on to other things.

For the next hour and a half Orzel reviewed her notes, expanding on them in some places, jotting down her theories as to the origin of the strange enchantment, or how she might be able to replicate it herself. Her first thought was that perhaps the ruby wasn't originally as small as it appeared now, and as such the runes she'd seen were applied at a much more manageable scale... That didn't seem all that likely. Sure, gemstones of such size were far easier to find in the Dragonlands, but the amount of work it would take to shrink an enchanted ruby of sufficient size seemed too intensive... Maybe, seeing as it was a religious icon, that was the point? Some sort of... Symbolic labor of faith?

The other less likely conclusion was that someone in the Dragonlands had managed to do the impossible, and crafted enchantments on such a miniature scale so as to appear entirely invisible to the naked eye. That made even less sense than the 'Shrinking Ruby' hypothesis. By now Orzel could apply runes stroke for stroke, line for line, with virtually pin point accuracy, but she doubted she'd ever be skilled enough to repeat such a feat... More importantly, as she'd already pondered, the technology to create runes on such a scale didn't exist... There wasn't an enchanting stylus out there with a point fine enough to do that sort of work without shattering in the enchanter's hand, and it still didn't explain the mechanically repeated shapes, or how the runes wound up inside the ruby.

For as much as it confused her, as much as this latest discovery threw her for a loop, it was all but impossible to keep from bouncing around on her stool. Every couple minutes she would look up from her notes at the monitor, eager to see if any new results had come in... Of course they hadn't. Ten hours may as well have been an eternity, as Orzel found it surprisingly difficult to maintain her typical level of patience in the face of such an exciting chance for discovery.

It wasn't just studying old enchanted items or inventing new methods of testing said enchantments that contributed to her recent boost in mood. Every time she set to creating a new rune, or applying that rune to a prototype, Orzel found her heart racing. Not from fear or nervousness, but elation. Every calculation, every stylus-stroke, every incantation had the power to bring her untold joy. Even failure was more enticing than it'd been in the past. There were so many exciting new inventions to make, so many discoveries to explore, so many questions to answer. Would a given configuration work? Had she provided enough width to her lines? Were the lines robust enough to handle the strain of a couple Kilo-Stygians coursing through them?

It was some of the most challenging work Orzel had ever done since arriving at Site R, perhaps the most challenging work she would ever do in her entire life period, and the rush she felt whenever one of her creations actually worked? There was really no comparison she could draw that would do the feeling proper justice, other than what she felt whenever she received a letter from Spike.

If someone walked through the door at that very moment and told her she was no longer a Princess, but that she could still do this work...? Well, obviously she'd be devastated to lose her title of Princess, but... If she could do this for the rest of her life, remain a permanent member of the ARMA think tank, creating wonders the likes of which no one else could, wonders that might make the world a better, safer, saner place... She might've very well been able to live with the loss.

As with most things pertaining to her work in the field of enchanting, time just sort of flew past, and Orzel soon found herself disappointed to have finished reviewing her notes and respective theorizing. Gathering up her notebook and the audio recording crystal, the Princess rested them neatly on the console beside the steadily humming EMCLAS. Normally this was the point where she'd move on to another project, but... For the first time in a while, she wasn't certain what project to work on next.

Project Gungnir had stalled due to a lack of appropriate testing materials, and the arrival of the necessary items wasn't expected for another two days. Orzel's Vasiliskov prototypes had been sent off to the Agency for testing, and her work developing uniforms and accompanying camouflage patterns had been accepted. There was the OUBC project, but that wasn't without its own frustrations. Ceramic was indeed capable of stopping bullets, but the level of technology to reliably create a usable ballistic plate on a large enough scale was estimated at being something like fifty or sixty years away...

So Orzel had settled on hardened steel, and turned her focus on mitigating the risk posed by spalling. ARMA had some pretty amazing stuff at its disposal, particularly a newly discovered synthetic material known as 'para-aramid', which was heat resistant and had a tensile strength nearly five times that of steel. It was also highly experimental, and highly classified, thus it couldn't be utilized in the production of ballistic plates...

There were other materials that could be used, even some that could replace the current laminated blend of knitted fiberglass and epoxy resin used in existing OUBC plates. At present she was waiting for several of these materials to finish curing prior to a live fire test, so again she was forced to wait.

For fifteen minutes the girl sat atop a wheeled stool, idly spinning herself around and around... Try as she might to keep herself under control, it was almost impossible to sit still. Evidently picking up on this, Midnight phased into existence atop the control console, inclining her head ever so slightly to the right.

"You are going to make yourself dizzy if you keep doing that." The bird chided disapprovingly, Orzel merely shrugged while continuing to spin on the stool. "You may drop something if you stop too quickly." At that, the Princess stopped spinning on the stool. The sudden halt in motion also resulted in Orzel's specta- glasses flying off her face and landing on the floor somewhere. Orzel blinked her eyes several times, attempting to do away with the dizziness while at the same time searching the now blurry linoleum for her glasses. "See?" Midnight asked rhetorically.

"What has you so remarkably talkative now...?" Orzel asked quizzically, moving from her stool to kneel on the floor, feeling around for her glasses. "Could you not be a tad more helpful?" Midnight responded by fluttering to the floor, then evidently picking up a blurry shape, which she set in Orzel's open palm. "Thank you..." The girl sighed, placing the glasses back on her nose. "Oh joy... The lens has cracked." She muttered, squinting with her left eye to see through the damaged lens. "Mend yourself." Orzel commanded, her magic surging up to fix the lens.

"You realize you could just use magic to recover them every time you drop them, correct?" Midnight asked flatly, Orzel turned to look at the bird while raising a finger as if to speak, only to lower it and look thoughtfully at the floor. "Had you actually not thought of it?" The bird realized as the girl pursed her lips, unwilling to respond with more than a small chuckle. No matter how smart she might've been on paper, there were still times when she could do things, or not do things, that made her feel quite dumb... Sometimes the answer could be right in front of her, and she'd just fail to put all the pieces together.

"I shall need to write Spike about this later..." Orzel stated simply, rubbing at her chin before rising back to her feet. Midnight meanwhile fluttered back up to perch on the faucet of a nearby sink, where Orzel was quickly going to wash her hands. "You did not answer my question. Normally I am lucky if I get five words out of you, now you are just talking to me out of the blue?" Midnight quirked her as Orzel turned on the water and started scrubbing her hands with soap... Briefly the girl paused to look at them, her already bronze skin had since taken on a much darker tan, both on account of her ongoing training outdoors and regular hunting excursions out into the tropical sun. The scales now stretched from the back of her wrist to the center of the back of her hand, albeit smaller and in fewer numbers.

"You were in an uncertain mental state before. While I could have spoken to you more regularly, I was uncertain if what I had to say might not have done more harm than good." Midnight explained reasonably, watching Orzel as she finished washing up and drying her hands. "You appear in far higher spirits of late, and so I feel it is time that you and I have a discussion." The Princess raised an eyebrow at the bird, which now fluttered across the room to land on one of the center lab islands, the same one on which Orzel had rested her satchel. "You really should contact Spike, but for a different reason than your foible with the glasses. He misses you, as much as you miss him." The girl followed her familiar's lead, approaching the satchel with a faintly raised eyebrow.

"Our first meaningful conversation in months, and you desire to give me relationship advice?" Orzel asked skeptically, sighing softly through her nose. "We already write each other every day, multiple times. Not that I would protest to more." The girl took a seat on another nearby stool, leaning on the counter. The bird shook her head, then pointed with a wing over to a telephone resting on a nearby counter top. "Do you have any idea how difficult it would be to place such a call to the mainland at present? The atmospherics are not in our favor, not to mention it is nearly one in the morning there." Midnight nodded understandingly, tucking her wing up by her side.

"You are an enchantress. Bend the forces of the universe to your will." Midnight stated seriously, the myna's golden eyes glowing briefly brighter. "There is more than one way to contact him, a spell that your Mother and Aunt have used to communicate with one another before, much as you use the Beacons." The bird explained seriously, taking on a tone not unlike that of a teacher. "I am your familiar, Orzel. Here to guide your path into the realm of the arcane arts, especially now that you are studying on your own. You have made great strides of late, not only in your abilities controlling magic, but in your overall spirit... Your inner light shines now as it has never done before, thus the time has come for you to dabble in High Magic."

Orzel looked at the bird with serious concentration, brow knitted together as she processed Midnight's words. She had only ever used 'true' High Magic once, and that'd been entirely on accident. Passing that threshold intentionally was the obvious next step in her arcane studies, but to do so would take every ounce of meditative control the girl had. Orzel was well aware of the spell Midnight had in mind, 'Astral Projection', using the very fabric of the Arcane Barrier to temporarily send her consciousness out of her physical body to an entirely different plane of existence, where she could theoretically contact anyone, regardless of their location... The Arcane Beacons operated on a similar prospect, albeit on a 'point-to-point' variation.

According to some of the books she'd read on the subject, Astral Projection required a great deal of meditative concentration, which Orzel was quite certain she'd be able to do... It would also require her to use an estimated two Mega-Stygians of energy in one spell, possibly more than that... The books didn't list the number, so Orzel had to estimate based on the complexity of the spell. The most she'd ever used previously was a little over a Mega-Stygian, on Nightmare Night when she'd created Fantom.

That'd been her accidental foray into 'High Magic', and to do so had required a great deal of planning, proper scheduling, not to mention being situated above a massive deposit of Arcanium, all of which naturally boosted her spell casting ability. Orzel had become far more adept at accessing her magic since then, but... Two Mega-Stygians was still an immense amount of energy. The attempt could potentially send her into a seizure, should Orzel fail to cast the spell properly, though all the literature indicated there was little long term risk.

Should she lose concentration she would simply be transported back to her corporeal body with no permanent ill effects... Still, High Magic was High Magic... It was the second most difficult class of spells for a mage to master, beaten only by those spells classed as 'Ultra High'. Orzel would need to prepare herself properly, so perhaps it was fortunate that the time difference between Site R and Ponyville was so great.

"I will wait until later this evening, when it is afternoon in Ponyville. That will give me enough time to make the proper arrangements." Orzel stated with a tone of seriousness, earning an accepted nod from Midnight. Quietly the girl made her way to the phone and lifted the receiver, then dialed the number she'd been given for a direct line to her bodyguards.

The line buzzed for a moment or two, until she heard the familiar sound of Grim on the other line. Swapping to her still broken Equestrian, she began to explain the items and personnel she would need. Grim was understandably surprised by the request, but evidently he and Fable had been expecting something like this for a while now. Orzel sometimes forgot that their job prior to becoming her bodyguards involved dealing with powerful, and potentially dangerous, spell-casters. At least they weren't trying to interfere in her studies anymore.

In addition to qualified medical practitioners, Orzel would need a few select components, taken from the 'Alchemy and Potion Synthesis Department'. High Magic typically required physical ingredients to boost effectiveness, the only exceptions being in the case of an Ultra High caster.

From that point on, Orzel threw herself into studying every book she could find on Astral Projection, all of whom were quite thick... A task that likely would've taken an average scholar a week or more of intensive study was instead completed in a matter of hours. The Princess couldn't help wishing that aspect of her day lasted just a little longer. Much as she enjoyed being able to read and comprehend so many words in so short a time, having reached a number nearing seventy-thousand words per minute, she couldn't lose herself in a single story the way she used to... Reading books had become akin to eating potato chips, she couldn't stop at just one.

Orzel kept the tomes in question among her other spell books in her enchantress' lair, as well as an exceptionally large black leather bound blank tome. The cover was emblazoned with a large bronze badge in the shape of Orzel's personal emblem, its polished surface glittering with numerous emerald runes. Roughly half of the pages had steadily been filled in over the course of the past month or so, all of which were written in Szafirian, accompanied by detailed sketches of a Gothic sort, a style Orzel had adopted to many of her sketches since learning of the threat posed by the occult.

The tome was what all self-respecting professional practitioners of magic referred to as a 'grimoire', a condensed collection of spells, incantations, instructions, lore and anything else that might prove useful in a pinch... Far easier to consult than pouring through the literal thousands of books Orzel had read on magic since first taking up the craft. The very same reason she approached her grimoire now, only after she'd finished reading the various books exclusively on Astral Projection itself. In part to commit the important details of what she'd learned to the grimoire's pages, but also to consult that which she'd already written.

The Princess's grimoire had started as a potential precursor to the manuscript she intended to one day publish, and was filled with all manner of information... While little of the material pertained to Astral Projection itself, Orzel nonetheless found it helpful to run through a lot of the basics one last time. Eventually a time came when the Princess was absolutely certain there was nothing else she could learn from what she'd read, and so she moved on to the portion of her preparations that would likely take up the majority of her day.

She took the time light number of votive candles and a smoke pot of incense, then start a recording of several of her favorite litanies... This was the sort of thing she would've liked to have her pendant for, a physical object that she could focus on while meditating. That being said, the necklace was merely a symbol of Orzel's faith, not the source of it, and she could make do without it until the EMCLAS was finished running its test cycles. Midnight had since vanished once again, but by now Orzel hardly even noticed the bird's comings and goings.

From that point on until the coming of night, Orzel sat in meditation, chanting, praying, and occasionally partaking in some of the stretches she'd learned in self-defense training. All served to better prepare her mind for what would likely be the greatest test of her abilities to date. She meditated on the nature of the spell, how the caster must have a strong mental image of the person they wished to contact via the astral plane. Eventually that led her to the subject of contact himself, her would-be suitor in the mainland, half a world away.

Orzel chose to focus on how Spike made her feel, how much she cared about him, how she wished she could see him in person again. Her hopes for making friends at Site R hadn't improved with her increased access... Few parents wanted their child hanging out with the girl supposedly plotting to build a doomsday machine in her secret lab. No matter what she did, no matter where she went or who she became, she remained an outcast, but... By now she'd come to accept that, because any that she did eventually make here were likely to be more genuine, truly worthy of her trust... Spike had helped her to understand that...

Whenever she read Spike's letters, whenever he told her how his day had been, told her how much he missed her, how much he cared, that made things even better... If this 'Astral Projection' spell was the only way Orzel could see him again without risking revealing her location, then by Lexicos she would do it... By the time the later hours of the night rolled around, the Princess felt about as centered as she ever had in her entire life, just as had been the case prior to the creation of Fantom. Perfectly stoic, perfectly poised, she extinguished her candles and made her way through the Contamination Minimization Chamber, out into her lab, then into the elevator that would take her up to her residence.

The whine of the elevator proved oddly soothing, as did a rather jaunty tune playing from a speaker overhead. The ride passed with a surprising amount of speed, though Orzel knew well enough that wasn't actually the case... Deep draconic meditation had a way of slowing or speeding the perception of time's passage. By now, Orzel could attain a trance-like state without utilizing the effects of hoard slumber, though when she did meditate upon her hoard the effects were greatly increased. Tonight, however, she'd decided to try without relying on the hoard's calming effects, to test her abilities in more ways than one.

Grim and Fable were waiting for her in her residence, accompanied by a physician and a nurse, both of whom had been briefed on the spell she intended to attempt. Once again, things moved with a perceived amount of rapidity, and at the same time Orzel felt slow... Like she was watching the images on a television run at a higher rate of speed, while she remained static. After a few minutes of deliberation, it was decided that she would cast the spell in the Arcane Beacon room, as it provided a solid 'anchor point' in the barrier.

Without further hesitation, the group made their way into the chamber, a large dark room, which harbored within its walls a conference table and a pristine obsidian orb, identical to that which sat in the conference room at Maksym Field. Though there were plenty of available chairs around the table, Orzel opted to instead sit on the floor, as it allowed her to enter a more comfortable meditative posture. Grim and Fable stood off to the rear, while the medical professionals chose to sit nearby in silent observation. They knew her only as her alter ego, and that was for the best...

The ingredients she'd requested were all arrayed on a strip of red cloth before her, consisting of numerous dried out leaves, stems, and fungi. She recognized all of them from her studies in potion creation. Some were used in balms for burns or small cuts, others were utilized to make potions that soothed shaken nerves and promoted a happier overall outlook... Doctor Scratch had recommended a prescription for such potions in the past, but... As much as she'd accepted the help of her therapist, Orzel didn't like the idea of taking something that might permanently interfere with her un-altered, if somewhat cynical, view of the world.

In this case, however, the ingredients were neither the components of a potion or a balm. The spell called for her to consume them, then enter a meditative trance, much as she'd done before. Taken together, these particular ingredients would produce a sort of hallucinogenic effect, which was necessary for the spell to actually work... Orzel first learned of the effect three weeks ago, when she'd heeded the advice of one of the potionists working at ARMA. Evidently there was a means of determining if an ingredient had gone past its point of potency, merely by tasting it. The experience had been as bizarre as it was brief, just a few odd flashing lights and an unusual urge to hug her couch...

The potion maker was right, eating ingredients was certainly one way to determine its viability, and its potential use in other potions. Orzel supposed that was probably why most of potion makers she'd met seemed so distant, so 'spaced out'... In a lot of ways she envied them for that. The ingredients were perfectly legal to have, and easy enough to come by, seeing as they were vital in a wide array of medicines, potions, and other uses.

This would be the first time Orzel ever deliberately attempted to enter an altered state of consciousness, and on a level far greater than her brief exposure. Nonetheless, she felt safe in the knowledge that there were medical staff on hand to intercede should something go wrong. There was nothing left for Orzel to do but begin. Gathering the various dried items into her palm, she brought them to her mouth and popped them in.

The taste was bitter, nearly causing her to gag, but the girl managed to get the ingredients down with a little concentration. At that point it became a simple matter of closing her eyes, taking slow deep breaths, and reciting a series of Lexican prayer mantras. At first she felt no different than she had before whenever she looked inward... She saw the typical imagery, the ocean, the deserts, the vast prairies and desolate islands. This time, however, Orzel was less aware that they were images... She could feel and hear the spray of the ocean, the grains of sand, the the wind blowing blades of grass, just as vividly as she might've in reality.

Slowly, very slowly, the Princess's visions warped and distorted, stretching impossibly far out ahead of her. Everything took on a distinctly fractal appearance, the familiar orderly landscapes yielding to vibrant pulsating kaleidoscopes of crystalline color. Orzel opened her eyes, and yet her eyelids remained closed. Holding her hand up in front of her eyes, she saw the fingers move about slowly, leaving small blurs of color in their wake. At the same time she knew her arm remained at rest, just as it'd been when she entered her meditative state.

The world around her transitioned from a distorted vision of reality and into an abstract shimmering landscape of color and sound. Blinking again at the flitting pastel colored shapes surrounded her, Orzel was briefly startled to spot an all to familiar figure... The woman in the black robes, her eyes glowing that same vibrant gold beneath her hood, appearing disconcertingly normal among the strange mental landscape they both inhabited. Uninhibited by the bizarreness of it all, the girl approached the figure, peering intently up into the darkened void within the hood.

"Must you follow me each time I peer inward? Are my dreams and meditation sessions not enough?" Orzel demanded of the figure, her voice echoing throughout the space... Characteristically, she didn't receive an answer. "What do you want from me? Can you not see I am busy?" The figure merely nodded, clasping her hands behind her back. "Reveal your identity, specter, or be gone." The woman in black lingered for a moment, then vanished in a puff of black smog.

Somehow Orzel was conscious, somehow she was moving, and still she knew she hadn't moved so much as an inch. It would likely take her a a moment to get used to that feeling, and so she chose to examine the area around her. It reminded her of the center of a fish bowl, with peripheral areas bending and warping in on each other. Flourishing bursts of prismatic color swirled to life in the distance, sometimes exploding in radiant displays that sent streamers of vapor in all directions. She could taste colors, see sounds, in a manner so disconcerting, and yet... Beautiful.

Orzel spent virtually an eternity hovering there, basking in the colors as she grew more accustomed to the incongruous sensations that passed through her body. The need for control and cold stoicism melted away, and Orzel found it remarkably easy to let go of her worries, her fears, they ceased to matter here...

Sometimes the colors would combine together to form snapshots of things Orzel didn't understand... Things that obviously hadn't happened to her yet, but that she wished might some day come true. In one case she saw herself, slightly older, lounging upon the Obsidian Throne, another found her and Spike standing close to one another, him in that tuxedo of his and her in... The image faded before she could really get a good look. Perhaps this was the outermost fringes of her own mind, or the place where her hopes and dreams sprang from. Maybe she was just over-thinking things... She did so love over-thinking things.

It took her a few moments more to remember just what it was she'd started this whole thing over, but the brief glimpse of Spike in a tuxedo brought her mind back on topic. That managed to focus her thoughts back on her true goal, and with that renewed focus she noted a distinct change in the dreamlike world surrounding her.

"Powers of the moon and stars, hear my voice and obey." Orzel stated firmly, once again aware that her waking body remained silent. "Bend to my command, make manifest my decree... Send forth my mind to he whom I seek!" The magic that typically flowed from her lips failed to appear as it usually did, instead merely swirling into existence like all the other bursts of color. The luminous streamers of energy formed a vortex around her, gradually pulling in tighter.

Concentrating would be key at this juncture, she would only have an instant to get this right. The Princess conjured into her mind a vision of Spike, the very same image that took shape directly in front of her... The young man's smiling face was quite comforting, and Orzel moved quietly moved towards him, just as the ribbons of magic tightened in around her. With a sense of finality, the Princess braced herself and 'stepped' into the image..

Her surroundings changed the moment she made contact with the image, the strands of magic coiling around her ethereal body and pulling themselves taught. In an instant she was catapulted into another realm of strangeness, hurtling through the open space until the swirling colors vanished, replaced by a massive shimmering corridor. Impossibly large in its scope, with colorful walls that grew closer and closer the longer she flew, and yet they never made contact.

Overcome by a sudden surge of euphoria, the sensation of flight became more akin to plummeting from a great height, all while her surroundings remained visually the same. Within a matter of moments she could hear her corporeal body breathing heavily, her heart racing in her ears, all while her astral eyes remained wide open. Totally serene in the face of another unusual display, Orzel actually embraced what happened next with a giggle... She watched her form disintegrating into a swirling vortex of green flames, starting with her arms and rapidly progressing up towards her head... In an instant her vision was consumed by the fire, but there wasn't an ounce of fear...

The atmosphere of the Iron Horseman that afternoon was, as always, heavy with the smell of cigar smoke, whiskey, and stale beer. A somber song was playing over the jukebox, performed by a band from somewhere in Trottingham, or maybe a little island next to it... The song's message was clear, with the singer explaining his poor lot in life, and proclaiming that today was the worst day since yesterday.

Spike couldn't help thinking the song was meant for him, made all the more depressing because he wasn't yet old enough to drink. Sarsaparilla didn't do much to take the edge off, especially considering the sort of day he'd had. It wasn't just him that'd come to the bar that afternoon, a handful other men from his department lined the bar beside him, each staring absently into their half empty glasses or speaking in hushed uncertain tones.

There were a lot of things Spike respected about his job, primarily the professionalism he saw among the 'Old Guard', many of whom weren't currently present at the bar. They could hold it together far better than any of the 'New Bloods', mostly because they'd seen just about everything already. Prior to the formation of the professional FDPV, the town's firefighting needs had been served by a mix of bucket brigades and an understaffed, not to mention under equipped, volunteer department. Most of its members had since transitioned into leadership roles in the new department, among them 'Fire Chief Big Macintosh' and 'Assistant Chief Filthy Rich', though they both preferred to go by their last names.

They worked everyone under their command something fierce, and Spike suspected that was to weed out those who couldn't hack it. They rode him especially hard, and Spike figured there was some ulterior motive to that as well... Twilight had given her okay for him to join, but she still wasn't totally sanguine about it, and odds were she was pressuring Big Mac and Rich to make his life miserable so he'd quit. He didn't blame her... She was his Mom, she worried about him, it was only natural she'd want to protect him any way she could... Especially today.

Still, if Mom was hoping for him to bow out of the department, Spike would have to disappoint her. He wouldn't just quit, not after he'd worked so hard... The past five months had been some of the most grueling, stressful, and yes, miserable days of his short life, but... He'd come through better for it. He was leaner, fitter, tougher now than he'd ever been before... Tried by fire, quite literally, in all the practice burns and other emergencies he'd intervened in. More importantly, a career as a firefighter came with a great deal of benefits, not to mention a pension. Of course it took twenty years on the job to qualify, but he was a dragon. Twenty years was almost literally nothing to him, or so it'd seemed earlier that morning.

Most of all, more than the pension and the benefits, Spike wouldn't quit because he liked what he did... He liked helping people. Then again, that'd never really been in doubt... Every time the alarm went off, every time he strapped into his bunker gear and mounted up, he affirmed to himself that he would do everything he could, to save everyone he could. He'd managed to keep that affirmation without losing anyone, until today. Taking a sip of his sarsaparilla, Spike did his best not think about what'd happened, but... That was difficult. Even now he'd find himself consumed by his own thoughts, the world around him would become distant, and he'd be taken right back to the scene of the accident.

It'd started earlier that morning, he'd been scrubbing down Engine Two... The Spring air was warm, sweet, and all was calm throughout Ponyville. Then, just as it had done a dozen times before, the station's alarm buzzer went off. Dispatch called for Engines One and Two to respond to the scene of an automobile accident on the southern outskirts of town. Spike had cleared the cleaning supplies out of the drive way, then rushed to get into his bunker gear, just as he'd been trained. It was probably the fastest he'd ever managed to pull off the change. From there he'd climbed aboard Engine One, where he was joined by three other New Bloods, Chief Macintosh, and Assistant Chief Rich.

They'd torn out of the station like fiends, lights flashing, sirens shrieking, horns blaring. There was something about that call that just didn't sit right with Spike, somehow he'd known in his gut that this scene would show him something different, something terrible. They reached the site of the accident in less than seven minutes, not a bad response time given the distance involved, but Spike had spotted the smoke well before then... Thick, black, and heavy, the sort of thing indicative of of a vehicle fire. All those different chemicals in the engine, rubber belts, tires, upholstery, gasoline... It'd hung in the air like some great tombstone, drawing the firefighters in.

As best as could be figured, a couple from out of town had been touring the countryside. Inadvertently, for some reason the Sheriff couldn't figure out, they'd strayed into oncoming traffic. A farmer swerved to avoid them and wound up tearing through a barbed wire fence, a couple bushes, a shrub, before finally slamming into a tree. His truck was the vehicle burning when the fire department arrived. The farmer himself had managed to come away with barely a scratch on him, most likely because he'd crashed through a bunch of smaller, comparatively softer, obstacles before making final impact.

The touring couple in the red convertible... They hadn't been so lucky. They too had swerved, right into the end of a guard rail. The impact was so intense that the entire engine compartment, in fact the entire front end of the vehicle, looked as if someone had split it open with an especially dull axe. The hood was crumpled, mangled, and rent apart by the violence of the impact, all the way up to the shattered windshield. There were several puddles forming beneath the wreck, brake, radiator, and transmission fluid, oil and gasoline, which thankfully hadn't caught fire. Both the burning truck and the spilled fuel was the fire department's job to handle, in the latter case it'd been Engine Two.

The man in the driver's seat impacted the steering wheel with such force his head had gone through it, though... Not before being badly mangled, like someone had taken a metal pipe to his head and hadn't stopped swinging until they'd coated the upholstery in a fine coating of brain matter. The driver was the lucky one, killed instantly, and probably didn't feel a thing, especially given the faint aroma of whiskey the sheriff reported.

The woman in the passenger seat bore the worst of things. Sent hurtling through the windshield, her face and body had been reduced to a texture of raw hamburger. The force had been so great that she'd continued flying a good twenty feet, until she was ultimately impaled on a tree branch. It'd gone right through her gut, then her spine, clear through one side and out the other Two feet of gnarled crimson wood protruded from the wound... Spike never realized how much blood there was inside a person, not until the moment he'd first laid eyes on her... By some cruel twist of fate, she was somehow still alive... Paralyzed, intestines hanging down to her ankles, legs twitching spasmodically like marionettes. There wasn't anything for the paramedics to do but put a shot of morphine in her arm.

Spike and the other members of Engine One put the fire out in short order, but through it all Spike was working off of his training alone. Operating as an automaton might, unable to really think for himself, as his mind wrestled with the herculean task of processing the image of that poor young woman. She passed away, somewhere between the first time he saw her and the time the fire was finally out, a window of maybe twenty minutes. In one single incident, Spike and the New Bloods had seen a dead body, and watched someone die, all while they were utterly powerless to save their life.

The scene just kept playing over and over in Spike's head, and as it did, he would find himself thinking back to some of the conversations he'd had with Orzel... About the night she'd come here, the night her Mother had died, in very much the same why. He thought he'd understood before, but now... Now he understood just how much he hadn't, just how different it was to imagine something like that, versus actually seeing it happen. So he, like most of the New Bloods in the department, had been given the rest of the day off while they worked through things.

Most of them came to the Iron Horseman to try and drown their sorrows, and indeed most of them had managed to succeed... Most except for Spike... He'd been left holding the non-alcoholic bag, so to speak. Taking another long swig from his bottle of sarsaparilla, the young man pondered what, if anything, he should say to Twilight when he got home. The news had spread like wildfire all over town, she had to know by now that he'd been there, that he'd seen things... Things she could never possibly hope to understand, but that she'd swear that she did.

There wasn't anything he could've done to change the outcome, that woman was dead the moment she got into the car that morning. One moment she was alive, and the next she was gone. She would've lived, had she been a dragon, of that Spike had little doubt. In fact, he was quite certain a dragon would've knocked that tree flat on its side, without much more than a mild bruise. That was another thing he'd never fully realized before that morning, just how fragile these people he lived among were. They broke so easily, like... Toothpicks, or wet tissue paper. For as hard as they worked to toughen themselves up, all their posturing and bravado, Spike was just... Built better than them.

Not in an arrogant sort of way, but objectively speaking... There were certain things he could easily do that regular Equestrians couldn't. Chief Macintosh was the biggest, toughest, strongest, man Spike knew. He could bench two-hundred-fifty pounds at most, if he really pushed himself. For Spike, that was just a warm up. There wasn't a bar large enough at the station to hold enough weight to actually provide the young fireman a challenge... So he had to get creative, lifting actual automobiles, or carriages, and other such massive things. It'd become something of a running challenge among the locals, to see if they could bring him something he couldn't lift...

Of course, Spike couldn't farm worth a damn, nor could he fly or cast spells, that was where Equestrians excelled. When it came to general survivability, though, there was no contest... If anything, realizing just how much there was that could actually kill an Equestrian increased Spike's respect for his brothers in the fire department all the more. For them, the risk was all the greater that they might not come home...

Nonetheless, the difference in general ability between himself and those around him served as a powerful motivator for Spike keep his temper in line. That would've been well and good, assuming Spike was actually angry, or... Upset at all, really. What struck him most of all, and even scared him to an extent, was that after all the horror the day had bestowed upon his young mind, Spike didn't... Feel anything. No anger, no fear, no sadness or guilt... All his life he'd endured heightened emotions, just another effect of his being different, but now...? One second there was the constant rushing 'noise' in his head and the next? Dead silence. Dead. Silence. Two people were gone from this world, one of them had died in more pain than he could imagine, and here he was, drinking a sarsaparilla and feeling... Nothing.

"I really need to see a shrink..." Spike muttered to himself as he looked at his nearly empty bottle. He'd been telling himself that ever since Orzel first recommended he seek therapy for his own problems. His health insurance certainly covered it, now that he was with the department, but... What would those around him think if they found out?

The big tough dragon needs to go talk to someone because his feelings hurt? Because he had a few bad dreams? Next thing he'd know, they might start thinking he couldn't handle the job, that he was nuts or something... That sort of talk could spread through Ponyville like wildfire, then everyone would start treating him like some sort of weirdo, or they'd act like they had to walk on eggshells... Either way, he'd never live it down... Better to just keep those things deep down inside. Speaking of keeping things inside, Spike at that moment had a sudden feeling of acid reflux on a magnitude he wasn't used to.

Bringing a hand to his stomach, he instinctively turned his head to the side, just as he exhaled what had to be the largest gout of flame he'd ever breathed. For whatever reason, no one else took notice, and none of the items he expected to catch fire so much as smoldered. The roiling inferno rapidly condensed on itself, taking on a far larger, feminine humanoid form. Abruptly it winked fully into existence, giving a bright flash and chime of magic. In its wake, Spike found himself half-blinded. Blinking the spots from his eyes, his eyes fastened upon the source of the flash, the semi-transparant ethereal form of...

"Orzel?" Spike asked, dumbfounded, looking between the girl and the bottle of sarsaparilla, then back at the girl, then back at the bottle... It was definitely sarsaparilla, there wasn't a single drop of alcohol in it, so that left one far more startling alternative. "I really need to see a shrink." Once more needing to verify what apparently only he could see, Spike looked once more at Orzel, she was different than he remembered her... Translucent as she appeared, the girl somehow managed to have become prettier. Slightly taller than she'd been before, though he too had grown nearly eight inches in height. The girl was attired in a lab coat, sweater, slacks, and her customary headscarf. She had more scales wreathing her face, and looked distinctly more muscular than when last they'd seen each other in Canterlot.

"Your eyes do not deceive you, Spike, though you are the only one who can see me." Orzel stated matter-of-factly in Szafirian, taking on a remarkably casual tone. "I am at this moment projecting my consciousness through the Arcane Barrier, using a spell known as Astral Projection. My corporeal being is elsewhere." Spike once again checked the bottle... This was weird. Really really weird... "I would recommend we move somewhere private. I fear those around you shall find you quite mad should you attempt to converse with what, to them, is an empty space."

"I'm not so sure I'd blame 'em..." Spike countered quietly, nervously looking around in search of someone, anyone, that might be seeing the same thing he did. Of course none of them did, so for now he decided the best thing to do was humor his potential delusion at least until he got home, where he could ask Twilight if 'Astral Projection' was even a thing, or if he'd just earned himself a free ride to the Funny Farm. "Hey, guys... I'm gonna head out, I'll see you later." The young man said coolly to his coworkers, he was far better at compartmentalizing now, something he owed to his training.

The other New Bloods nodded and bid him farewell, so Spike took a five Bit bill from his wallet and placed it on the bar. With his tab settled, he quickly and quietly made his way through the Iron Horseman's numerous tables, pausing by the door to snag his russet brown uniform jacket from a coat hook. It matched his similarly colored cargo pants and black steel-toed boots quite well, contrasting nicely with the orange and white striped 'telnyashka' that become part of the CDA's 'Standard Garrison Dress'. Orzel's spectral form accompanied him as well, silently observing as he donned the jacket.

The young man finally grabbed a hat, known as a 'rogatwyka', from the same hook. One of the many Szafirian inspired introductions to the CDA's SGD that Orzel had instituted, it was a sort of peaked cap, but with four corners rather than a rounded top... It was notably decorated with a black band, as well as the emblem of the CDA at its front, depicted on a white shield. Certainly a spiffy garment, if nothing else. Briefly examining the piece of headgear for a moment, Spike plopped the rogatwyka on his head, then adjusted its fit before finally he made his exit.

The spring air that greeted him was warm, and Ponyville was bustling with activity, just as it always had. The market was open, mothers and their children wandered about looking to buy the day's groceries, and all seemed as it should be. Looking at it, Spike could hardly believe the sorts of things that happened in what'd become his hometown. Not just the monsters and villains. Grease fires, gas leaks, medical emergencies, and now fatal automobile accidents... Thankfully there was no one immediately nearby, so Spike could safely converse with his girlfriend's ethereal form as he walked towards the library.

"Okay, so let me get this straight." The young man began, glancing to his right at the ethereal girl 'walking' beside him. "You're Orzel, but you're somewhere else, and this is just your brain I'm talking to? Assuming that this is actually happening, and that I'm not hallucinating due to stress, is this some sort of... Telepathy thing? Can you read my mind?" Orzel nodded, offering him only the faintest of smiles...

"Yes, and no... It is a form of telepathy, but I cannot read your mind. You are not hallucinating." She explained, so Spike attempted to test that statement. To do so, he thought of something that he knew would drive Orzel absolutely crazy, something that she'd have to respond to if she could read his mind, or if this was all a hallucination.

The young man imagined visiting the Princess's tower in Canterlot and moving one thing slightly out of place, followed by organizing her book collection alphabetically rather than the standard decimal system. Orzel would notice the books fairly quickly, but it'd likely take her time to figure out just what one thing was out of place. She'd realize sooner or later there was something off, but wouldn't know what it was exactly, and that'd drive her bonkers. To his surprise, this mentally pictured scenario didn't so much as earn him a look of annoyance, let alone the tirade pf condemnation he would've expected... Maybe this whole 'Astral Projection' thing was real.

"Not that I don't like you being here, but... Why are you here?" Spike quickly looked around, both to ensure he was still far enough away from other people, and out of general paranoia. "Is something wrong? Are you in danger? Do you need me to come rescue you or something?" Orzel's smile became distinctly melancholic, at which point she moved closer to him and leaned her 'head' against his arm. Simultaneously, he felt a warm tingling sensation there. It actually felt rather nice, and weird...

"Your concern is touching, but you need not worry... I am perfectly safe." The Princess assured him gently, her arms snaking around Spike's right arm and hugging it tightly. More of the strange tingling followed, but again it didn't feel all that uncomfortable. He was again taken by surprise, because she seemed far less rigid than the last time they'd met. He'd figured there was some change from her latest letters, but this was his first time actually seeing such an improvement in person, or... No, it wasn't, since she wasn't actually here. This was usually why he left magic to Twilight. "As I mentioned earlier, I am practicing Astral Projection. It will allow me to commune with people over long distances, as if I am standing there with them. I wanted you to be the first one I tested it on..." The girl's ethereal cheeks somehow managed to blush. "I hope you do not mind."

Spike wasn't really sure how he felt about that, but again he wasn't really sure how he felt about a lot of things... Yet here he saw an opportunity to maybe get some advice. Orzel was the very person he'd been thinking about not five minutes prior, the one who actually knew how it felt to see... Well... Bad stuff. Orzel must've picked up on his inner uncertainty, because she loosened her 'grip' just a tad and took on a distinct look of genuine concern... It was so strange, to see her now, with so much emotion evident on her face. To see the worry in its fullest was as touching as it was heart wrenching. Spike hated to think she'd be worried over him, but he knew that'd never change... She worried because she cared.

"Actually I'm glad you popped in, I think I really needed this today..." Spike admitted shakily, prompting Orzel to nod her head. Her 'hand' slipped down to his, squeezing it gently. He was still getting used to the strangeness of the sensation, but the more he experienced, the more it felt like she was actually there. "Got called to a bad wreck this morning, and... Well, I'm not really sure who I can talk to about it, other than you." He sighed, turning his eyes towards the now clear afternoon sky. "I know you've talked about your Mom, and what happened to her. I thought I understood, but I didn't... Not until today."

Spike recounted the story as he remembered it, taking great pains to ensure he remained far away from other people walking along Ponyville's sidewalks. By now he believed it really was Orzel, so rather than going to the library, he walked past the towering tree and on towards the western edge of town. Orzel listened to him intently throughout it all, until finally he came to a stop beside a tree overlooking the meadow that stretched to the edge Everfree Forest. Seating himself on a rock at the base of the looming pine, Spike gazed off into the distance, struggling to explain how he felt... Or rather, how he didn't feel. Orzel sat beside him all the while, placing a hand on his back and rubbing his shoulder. By now the comforting phantom sensation was more or less indistinguishable from the real thing.

"So that's it... That was my day..." Spike concluded, slouching forward and removing his rogatywka. He rubbed at his slightly stubbly chin, having decided to begin shaving again, as a beard tended to interfere with the seal on his respirator. "Y'know, I bet other kids our age don't have to deal with this sort of thing... I'm okay with being a dragon, but sometimes I wonder what life would be like if I was a normal Equestrian, if I had a normal Mom and Dad..." He looked at the ground, proceeding to rub the back of his neck. "That's not really the point... The point is that I watched someone die, I watched someone die and I don't feel anything... Does that mean there's something wrong with me?" Orzel took hold of his shoulder and pulled him closer, somehow managing to wrap her arms around his comparatively bulky frame.

"There is nothing wrong with you..." She soothed softly, holding the young man in a firm but gentle hug. "Just because you do not know what you feel, does not mean you feel nothing... Give yourself time to process." Orzel continued with a bit more resolve in her tone. "This is a reality you must face as your career continues, you know as well as I. Today will likely not be the last time someone loses their life." Spike turned to look at her, there was the stoic bluntness he'd come to know so well, but it was clear she was still concerned... "Have you considered talking to someone else...? A professional?" He'd also been expecting that question...

"Yeah... I've considered it." Spike said simply, looking down at the ground as Orzel ended her hug. "I don't know if I'm ready to do that." He admitted, looking to either side of him. Thankfully they were still alone. "Look, Orzel... I'm..." The young man trailed off, staring at the ground. "I'm afraid... Afraid someone will find out, afraid I'll get laughed at... Afraid they might find something else wrong with me." Spike bit his lower lip. "What if they think I'm crazy? What if I actually am crazy? Part of me says I should just get over it, that it's not that bad, I just need to tough it out, y'know? Be a man." The Princess's expression clouded for a moment, then took on a small but gentle smile.

"If you broke your leg, would you go to a doctor?" She asked softly. Spike nodded, confused. "Your mind is just as much a part of you as your leg... It is perhaps the most important part of you, and it is fitting that it is also the hardest part of a person to recover." Orzel took his hand into hers, squeezing it comfortingly... "The sooner you seek help, the sooner you can begin to heal." She hugged him again, more tightly this time. "Your mind is what I love most about you, Spike..." The girl added sincerely, leaning her head against his shoulder.

"Here I thought it was my rugged good looks..." The young man joked dryly, allowing the two of them to chuckle for a few blessed moments. "I love you too, my Lady..."

What followed was a stretch of time where neither of them said a word, together they just sat there, watching the meadow... Usually silence made Spike uneasy, but not here, not with Orzel... Or her astral form, at any rate. The bustle of town grew more and more distant, the sounds of nature swelling to fill the void. After a few minutes Spike leaned back against the tree, faking a yawn while casually putting his arm around Orzel's shoulders, a maneuver he'd seen Chief Macintosh use once or twice at the Iron Horseman. To Spike's relief, Orzel scooted a little closer, then leaned her head against his chest. Once again she was blushing, but no less content than before.

In a lot of ways, the two of them were older than they appeared... Through circumstances and personal will, they'd done quite a lot of growing up since first meeting. Here Spike was, seventeen years old, already running into burning buildings and pulling people out of the flames for a living. All the things that scared him before, all the worries and anxieties he'd had about just meeting with Orzel at the Gala, they seemed so small... So unimportant. Tending to the library, not being able to talk to his crush, not being accepted in Ponyville as a dragon... Now people accepted him because of what he could do as a dragon. He wasn't alone in changing either...

Orzel was not only learning to rule a country, but to design and build machines to make it a safer place, things that Spike couldn't ever hope to understand as she could. She remained the most radiant being Spike had ever laid eyes on, and to see her smile for but a moment was enough to brighten even the darkest of days... But she didn't see herself that way. Granted, it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been before, but Spike knew she still had quite a way to go. This moment here, though... Where she'd comforted him, where she felt comfortable enough to sit so closely beside him... It was such a simple thing, but to Orzel it must've been a huge step forward. Astral Projection or not...

What Spike struggled the comprehend the most was that they both had so many years yet ahead of them, years that Spike genuinely hoped he and the Princess would spend together. It only registered then, what he'd last said to Orzel... 'I love you, my Lady'... It'd just come out... He hadn't agonized over it, he hadn't spent nights losing sleep over whether he should or shouldn't say it... He just... Loved her, she loved him... Time would tell if it would last, but Spike was nothing if not optimistic about their chances.

Spike wondered if maybe the couple in the automobile ever had similar thoughts... Had they said what they wanted to say to one another, or would those words never pass their lips. Thinking about that actually made him... Kinda sad. There was more to it than that, obviously, but... Orzel had been right. Just because he didn't know how he felt, it didn't mean he felt nothing.

The hours passed in that continued comfortable silence, until afternoon turned to dusk. The two teenagers wordlessly adjusted their position at the base of the tree, orienting themselves to better watch the sun's descent onto the horizon. The quiet peace of that moment went unbroken for what felt like a lifetime, until finally something came along to drown out the sound of nature. The buzzing drone of two engines, high in the sky... A cargo aircraft, bound from Maksym Field to some unknown destination. It undoubtedly carried weapons of some sort, there were several pegasi pacing it as it flew over the town... Protestors, most likely.

Spike sighed heavily through his nose, shaking his head and leaning it against Orzel's... The aircraft and its cargo weren't important right now, nor were all the issues that they'd come to represent. As the sun dipped lower in the sky, and the air took on a familiar evening chill, the young man got the feeling that his time with the Princess's projected consciousness was nearing its end. She looked up at him, wordlessly communicating as much with a somber, sorrowful glance.

"I can feel the effects of the spell's components waning..." Orzel said brittly, Spike nodded in understanding... She'd said so much more, and once again his understanding of her body language spoke volumes. She didn't want to leave, but the hour was growing late in Equestria. It was likely that she'd spent the entirety of the night wherever she was, just sitting with him as he processed everything. If that didn't say something about how she felt, Spike didn't know what would. "I will do my best to make time to project to you at least once a week... I love you."

"I love you too. Don't worry, I'll be here..." Spike promised, sharing one final hug with the girl that'd come to mean so much to him. "Until we meet again, my Lady..." He quietly took her hand, kissing it respectfully... Orzel managed to display one final blush, before slowly her ethereal figure faded from view... In its wake, Spike saw only a few lingering embers of verdant magic, twinkling dimmer and dimmer, until these too vanished entirely.

Unable to conceal a somber frown, Spike once more donned his rogatywka and stood up. Straightening his jacket, the young man lingered beside the tree, watching the sunset for several more minutes before tucking his hands into his pockets and beginning the silent walk back home. Quietly he commenced to humming an old draconic folk song, something he'd picked up over the course of his studies into the language. It was a slow melancholic tune, whose title translated to something like 'As I Walk Alone Along The Road', all too fitting...

He'd needed that time with Orzel more than he realized. Ponyville was preparing for the arrival of night, but there was a strange sort of energy in the air. The cobblestone sidewalks beneath Spike's boots felt harsher, while the bite of the cooling evening air chilled him sharply. With any luck things would remain normal, or at the very least quiet, until morning...

The Agency had received the name 'Fuse' from one of their more reliable contacts in Equestria's underground 'Private Intelligence' community, a rather enigmatic character who operated under the moniker 'Mister Slate'. Slate was hesitant to give up Fuse's name to the Agency, and had only done so after consulting his equally enigmatic superiors. It'd been agreed that for their aid in locating a lead in the Artifact Black Market, the Agency would temporarily cease cracking down on those dealing in 'Class 5' and 'Class 6' Artifacts... The weakest, but most highly trafficked, artifacts on the market.

Having started out in the trade of narcotics, Fuse had since transitioned to more lucrative endeavors, and by now was considered the largest purveyor of Artifacts in Classes 4 and above in Canterlot. He'd also been noted as having interacted with Coronel Trepatroncos as recently as three weeks ago. According to Mister Slate, Trepatroncos and Fuse had thrown in together, both having become quite paranoid, to the point of cutting the 'Organization' out of their operations. Exact details of their dealings remained a mystery, but a series of intercepted communiques hinted that the two of them intended to move an item of 'Extreme Prominence' at 'the first possible moment'.

So it was that the Agency had deployed a number of agents into the field, manning positions in Canterlot's various transportation hubs... Their aim was simple. Locate the means with which Fuse, Trepatroncos, and any other persons affiliated with them intended to use to extricate the 'Package'. It wasn't long before further chatter indicated the Package would be moved by airship, the 'Air Cargo Ship Warlock', though its ultimate destination remained unknown. Considering the level of secrecy and security involved in its departure, it had to be something big...

The departure of the airship had been discovered unexpectedly late, and had almost instantly drawn the approval of a hastily prepared Cerberus Operation to seize the Warlock. The airship in question was a griffon built cargo hauler of fifteen years, privately owned and operated by a shell corporation... It had a typical crew complement of forty men, almost all of whom would undoubtedly be armed in some fashion, especially given the nature of the cargo... That didn't account for Trepatroncos and his men. Taking the airship on the ground wasn't an option, not only because doing so would likely result in unacceptable civilian casualties, but also because the ship was already underway... No, Cerberus would need to take it while it was airborne.

The troopers were swiftly assembled as 'Rapid Tactical Response Force Elkhound', a unit rapidly cobbled together from a number of undersized teams and fresh Cerberus recruits in Canterlot. From there they'd been teleported to Maksym Field, where they boarded a waiting cargo aircraft... All navigational lights had been disabled, with the undersides of its wings painted black so as to better hide it against the night sky. The only illumination within emanated from a dim red bulb, situated near the rear door.

It was aboard this aircraft that the team received its briefing, if it could be called that. The noise within the aircraft itself, particularly the engines' dull droning racket, would've made made it next to impossible to hear without shouting. Fortunately, Cerberus was one of the best equipped military units in the world, so communication wasn't nearly as big a problem.

Each Cerberus trooper was attired in the Agency's newly adopted 'CERPAT' Battle Uniform. They carried the new standard kit, including body armor, helmets, balaclavas, web gear, telnyashkas, and silenced PM-72As. Unassuming metal medallions on leather wrist bands were present with every trooper, appearing to a casual observer as wristwatches of a sort. In actuality, a closer inspection of said medallions would reveal a series of blocky, brutal, highly angular runes. Likewise, each soldier possessed had a small orb of obsidian, no larger than a marble and similarly covered in runes, tucked squarely in their ears. These 'Communication Beads' were how they managed to communicate with one another so well, in spite of the noise.

Their final bit of kit might've again appeared mundane at first glance... Simple polarized ski goggles, which would certainly protect their eyes from the winds blowing at such lofty altitudes. In truth, however, each set of goggles found itself the recipient of recent advancements in the field of enchanting. The troopers needed only to press a switch on the side and the goggles would display a myriad of useful details. Compass orientation, a miniaturized map of ones immediate surroundings, their heart rate, and a simplified inventory of each soldier's equipment and ammunition count.

Another toggle switch alternated between normal vision, 'Cat-Sight', 'Serpent-Sight', and 'True-Sight'... Named respectively for their 'Night Vision', 'Thermal Vision' and 'Arcane Vision'... The latter most was intended mostly to see hotspots of magic, as would be expected of a cursed or enchanted item, or to see through simple illusion spells. The goggles were brand new, literally having been issued upon the team's arrival to Maksym Field... The men and women of RTRF Elkhound were given precious little time to familiarize themselves with the goggles, but were assured that virtually anyone could work out how to use them without needing formal instruction.

For Corporal Krieger, they were probably the most advanced piece of equipment he'd ever held in his hands, not to mention the most expensive. All too fitting, given the nature of the mission they were about to undertake. Krieger was one of the new Cerberus recruits, freshly drawn from the ranks of Princess Luna's esteemed Palace Guard. This would actually be his first mission as one of the world's most elite warriors, and he could only hope it wouldn't prove too strange...

Since being accepted into the fold, Krieger had read just about every Cerberus Mission Report he had security clearance to lay eyes on. Usually it was the missions that were enacted at a moment's notice that had to be watched out for. Missions almost exactly like this one. Cerberus' success rate was no less impressive regardless of warning, but casualties usually followed an upward trend that was directly proportional to the amount of time there was for planning. Suffice to say, as a fresh-faced grunt, Krieger's odds of survival were less than certain.

As the young man stood closest to the open rear door, he was granted a near unobstructed view of the near pitch black farmland below. There were small clusters of light, likely houses or villages, plus the odd pair of headlights or two... As a Canterlot native, it never ceased to amaze him how people could live so far away from one another that they needed to actually own an automobile. Whenever he wanted to go somewhere, he could just hop aboard a bus, or take a taxi, or, if he was desperate, use the subway. Not so out here... Given the covert nature required of Elkhound's mission, that was probably for the best.

"Comm check. You all reading me?" A gruff older voice, tinged by a distinct Trottingham accent, spoke up in his ear. The comm-bead amplified it to a an audible level, enough that it could be easily heard over the engine noise.

The voice itself belonged to the newly formed RTRF's commander, Colonel Baseplate, one of the few veteran Cerberus troopers assigned to Elkhound. Baseplate was a veritable legend within the Agency, having logged more hours in the field than ninety percent of most Cerberus personnel. There was a chorus of affirmatives, which Krieger didn't hesitate to add to.

"We're approaching the intercept point... On your feet, lads." Baseplate explained firmly as Krieger glanced around, looking towards the front of the aircraft where he spotted the man. Unlike the majority of RTRF personnel, he wore one of the new 'boonie hats'. Krieger and the others quickly rose from their seats. "Those of you without wings, hook up with your flight partner."

Krieger cast one final look out the doorway, then turned his attention to one of the figure that'd been seated next to him since take off. They were a spell-caster, judging by their overall slight frame. It was only when they stood up that Krieger realized his flight partner was a woman... It wasn't unusual in the Lunar Marines, though there were few in Cerberus. Most couldn't pass the incredibly stringent physical fitness standards. While the other branches made exceptions between the sexes, Cerberus' uniquely global paranormal intervention mission rendered any such notions moot.

Krieger didn't really care either way, if anything it gave him greater confidence that he could trust this person with his life... So long as she knew what she was doing, and didn't flip out when they stepped out of the plane. Tandem flying was nothing knew to the Corporal, the Air Corps, Navy, and Marines made it standard practice for all of their members to at least attain basic proficiency... In this case, however, Krieger once again felt there was little for him to worry about.

Not a word was spoken throughout the entirety of the aircraft, as there was nothing that needed to be said. Like a well-oiled machine, the man used a trio of carabiners affixed to his own OUBC to attach himself to the spell-caster's plate carrier... It was a little awkward, given that doing so required the two of them to be facing one another, but the man did his best to keep his mind on the mission. There was a patch sewn to the front of her plate carrier, identical to that on Krieger's, which revealed the woman's name to be 'Moonlight Raven'... Second Lieutenant Moonlight Raven, in point of fact.

"Equipment check!" Baseplate bellowed from the direction of the cockpit, and this was followed by a cascading call of ' Ten, okay!' to 'Nine, okay!' and so on, until finally it reached Krieger and Raven. The two of them each double checked that their OUBC harnesses were properly affixed, that all of their equipment was stowed to survive the flight, and that Krieger's wings were free of any major obstructions. Flapping the gray leathery appendages experimentally, the man offered a satisfied nod and gave Raven a thumbs up.

"One, okay!" The Lieutenant shouted in a surprisingly silken voice voice, loud enough to nearly deafen Krieger in his left ear. Evidently picking up on that, she tilted her head to the side, though her eyes were hidden beneath her own goggles. "Sorry." Raven offered awkwardly as the team moved closer to the door. Krieger merely shrugged, shuffling forward with the mysterious woman until he was no more than a foot from the door. A few moments passed before Baseplate came barging his way along the side, the bulky thestral pushing and shoving until finally he stood beside the door. Pausing for a moment he examined Krieger, then cleared his throat.

"Command, this is Elkhound... All assets prepared for deployment." Baseplate's voice carried over the comm-bead, gripping the doorway and peering out into the night. Krieger watched the Colonel with a growing sense of suspense, and after a few moments of silence the man nodded and took on a more serious posture. "Understood, sir. We'll get it done. Elkhound, out." Baseplate acknowledged the unheard message, then flicked the switch on the side of his goggles. "Alright everyone, activate your Heads-Up Display. Command is going to be linking us in with their ADATA feed. Use that to guide your flight to the target. Any questions?"

Krieger considered asking something, as he had little experience with the 'HUD' goggles, but chose to flip the switch on his goggles first and see how difficult it looked to operate. The HUD appeared in a matter of moments, including the aircraft's current altitude and airspeed, as well as the miniature map displaying the aircraft's position in relation to Warlock. The new piece of gear was a surprisingly intuitive system, even in the hands of someone that'd never worn or used it before.

All Cerberus troopers were expected to be highly self reliant, so Krieger wasn't surprised when no questions materialized. The others were getting just as easily acquainted with the tech as he was. The aircraft abruptly pitched its nose up, ascending higher into the night sky as it drew closer to the outline of their targeted ship. Baseplate signaled Krieger and the Lieutenant forward, allowing them to stand directly in the doorway... The wind was intense, the result of the air being thrown back by the airacraft's propeller, but he and Raven stood resolute.

Flipping the other switch on his goggles, the man toggled past 'Cat-Sight', settling on 'Serpent Sight'. The world was plunged into a steady gray-scale... Looking at his own hand, or the roaring engine mounted to the aircraft's wing, revealed the hottest surfaces in white while cooler surfaces took on a darker gray shade. Turning his gaze in accordance with the ADATA information he was being provided, it took him only a moment to spot the bright exhaust flares from the engines of Warlock far below, passing left to right at a steady rate of speed.

"You're the first one out, lad! Head for the aft-most section of the ship, I'll see you below!" Baseplate explained, putting his hand on Krieger's shoulder. The Corporal nodded wordlessly, taking several deep breaths as he prepared himself. A sudden buzzing sound emanated from beside the door. "Go go go!"

The Colonel ordered, and just like that Krieger plunged out of the aircraft with Raven still affixed to his harness. They fell freely through the cold midnight air, the wind buffeting against them. Raven wrapped her arms around Krieger's chest to reduce her overall surface area, while at the same time moving her legs in tandem with his. The man held his arms back against his sides, angling straight towards the airship at a remarkable rate of speed... Nothing he wasn't used to already. .

Krieger's breathing was slow, steady, his eyes scanning every inch of Warlock for potential threats. As with most griffon built airships, it looked at first glance like a vessel plucked from the ocean. In this case it took the form of a typical freighter, with a large superstructure at its center that housed its bridge and other facilities. Cargo cranes loomed above its decks and sealed holds... Rather than a gas bladder, as was common among Equestrian airships, this one made use of a powerful levitation enchantment driven by six massive vertically mounted propellers... Hazards he'd need to take care to avoid on approach.

Krieger wasn't an expert on airships, but he'd learned enough watching the Griffon cargo haulers that rarely flew in and out of Canterlot. The maritime appearance was present for more than aesthetics, as that design in particular made it possible for the ships to actually land in water and use traditional harbor facilities, as opposed to the cumbersome 'Airship Masts' required by traditionally designed vessels. It certainly made sense, as the Griffons had far more access to coast line and inland lakes than they did wide open spaces for large 'Gas Ship' anchorages. Repairs, or the construction of entirely new ships, could likewise be conducted in traditional dry-docks.

Thus, it was rare to see ships of Warlock's type this far inland without being near a substantial body of water, a feature that Canterlot sorely lacked. Setting aside for a moment the oddity of seeing such a craft here, Krieger's attention was focused more on the figures patrolling the ship's deck.

There were a handful of men patrolling the deck, visible only as bright white specks against the darker, cooler, deck strakes. It was clear they had no idea the members of Elkhound were coming, and that their patrols more resembled the circuitous path one might take were one intending to simply look busy. Krieger nodded to himself, angling closer to the ship, selecting an area near the aft which was devoid of enemy contacts. He spread his arms out, quickly slowing their descent before unfurling his wings. Krieger grunted audibly, it wasn't just himself he had to decelerate... While he'd done plenty of tandem flights, he hadn't practiced in a while.

With a few steady flaps and a barely audible grunt, the Corporal slowed their collective free fall to a safe speed before flaring his wings like a parachute. He and his compatriot touched down with barely a sound, situated behind a collection of shipping crates that'd been arrayed near the very rear of the ship. Lieutenant Raven unclipped herself from Krieger's OUBC almost instantly, allowing both of them to grab their PM-72As that'd been dangling from their web gear. Glancing upwards, he watched roughly twenty thermally fluorescing shapes descending on the airship, each landing incrementally further ahead than the last. Only one shape deviated from this, instead moving towards where Raven and Krieger now stood, having taken cover behind what little cover they'd found.

The Corporal swapped from 'Serpent-Sight' back to the goggles' unaltered state, revealing the deck of the airship to be completely blacked out, without so much as a navigational light visible. Highly illegal, but as had been the case with the Agency's cargo aircraft, necessary if the crew intended to remain undetected at night. That certainly leant credence that Warlock was the airship the Agency was after.

Krieger's thestral eyes afforded him natural 'Cat-Sight', allowing him to further verify that they were indeed alone, at least for the moment... Opening the dust cover on his SMG, the man awaited the arrival of the still descending shape, who flared his wings out what seemed the very last second. Baseplate touched down with a grace and finesse that could only have been honed through years of action, pausing only briefly to adjust the boonie hat seated atop his head. Krieger and Raven looked at one another, awaiting the next order from their commander...

"We're all aboard, aye?" The Major asked quietly, almost as an afterthought, before moving up towards Krieger. The other detachments, each roughly three men strong, all responded in the affirmative. "Command, Elkhound is aboard... The Colonel stated while taking a knee beside Krieger and Raven.. A few moments passed, resulting in another nod from the Major. "Aye, sir... All Elkhound elements, be advised. Everyone aboard this ship's been declared hostile. Use of lethal force is authorized, but keep in mind we need a few prisoners."

Krieger's grip on his weapon tightened at that. Unlike most members of Equestria's armed forces, he was one of the few Lunar Marines that'd actually seen combat. It was his effectiveness and bravery serving as a guard aboard Equestrian merchant ships that'd first gotten him transferred to the palace guard... Fending off pirates was one thing, this would be the first time he ever assaulted a ship... Still, Krieger had more than enough experience navigating and defending the corridors aboard vessels of a sea-going type that seizing an airship couldn't be much different... Right? Just do the opposite, think like a bad guy.

The rumbling engines and whirling propellers concealed the footfalls of the deploying cadre of Cerberus troopers. Krieger and Raven quickly fell in behind Baseplate as the man silently advanced along the starboard aft portion of the airship. Several gusts of winds buffeted their uniforms, the thinner fabric contributing to a growing sense of chill that'd started as soon as they jumped out of the plane. Much as Krieger liked the cut of the new attire, at this altitude he wouldn't have minded the fabric being a little thicker.

The trio passed the rear-most hold without incident, their feet thudding softly against the wood. The cargo cranes creaked and groaned overhead, their various cables vibrating like the strings of some great harp. Sticking to the shadows to ensure that none of them were spotted, the three Cerberus troopers slowly converged on the ship's central superstructure... There were troopers visible atop the superstructure, undetected by the crew visible through windows on the top-most floor, where Krieger suspected they might find the airship's pilothouse.

Through careful maneuvering and timing, they managed to reach the base of the superstructure without being seen. Briefly they took refuge among several other wooden crates, covered in a hardy brown tarp... It was dark enough in their confines that one of the patrolling crew passed by without so much as a second glance... He, like all his cohorts, was attired as one might expect of a mariner, the AP-919 he held not withstanding. Judging by the wings and hawkish nose, this was likely a griffon.

Baseplate gave Krieger a nod, that was all the Corporal needed to see before he emerged from the shadows and grabbed the unwitting guard. Clamping one hand over the man's mouth, he administered a rapid jerking motion, snapping the fellow's neck with an eerie sound, akin to cracking one's knuckles. The man thrashed about for a few moments, evidently biting his tongue in the process, judging by the warm liquid Krieger felt splash through his fingers.

Krieger pulled the hostile into the shadows to finish the job, only for the man to abruptly catch fire. Fearful he might also be caught alight, the Corporal let go of the man, sending the flaming corpse hurtling to the deck strakes. It was unlike any flame he'd ever seen before, somehow managing to ignore the man's clothes while at the same time disfiguring his face... Pale purple-ish skin, sharp looking fangs, large violet compound eyes, and as Krieger soon discovered by looking at his hand, vibrantly fluorescent purple blood. The man nervously wiped the liquid on the dead creature's sleeve, looking at Baseplate and Raven as if to silently ask if he'd just exposed himself to some sort of bio-weapon.

Raven appeared just as stunned as Krieger was, quickly relieving the body of his weapon, likely in case it somehow came back to life. Baseplate meanwhile went about lifting one of the creature's hands and examining its palm... Krieger spotted what looked like some sort of odd vertical cut there... Closer inspection revealed that cut to be ringed by jagged teeth, which suggested it was more an orifice than an injury. An identical orifice was found on the deadman's other palm...

"Bloody bugs..." Baseplate muttered coldly, signaling Raven to tucking the corpse in a corner behind the crates, where it couldn't be found. "All teams, this is Baseplate... Be advised, hostiles have shape-shifting abilities. Maintain heightened security posture." The man sighed heavily, rubbing at the stone in his ear. "Command, this is Elkhound. Blackwood... I say again. Blackwood... I'll keep you informed."

Krieger had no idea what the word meant in this context, but the tone Baseplate used denoted an unparalleled seriousness. Wordlessly the Colonel signaled them to move onwards, not pausing to elaborate on whatever 'Blackwood' was. Krieger and Raven followed Baseplate out from the crates, towards a nearby metal hatch that'd been carelessly left open. The interior hallway was well lit, lined with aged wooden paneling and dirty blue carpet. It was a narrow space, with barely enough space for two men to stand side-by-side... The Cerberus troopers each folded their stocks forward, making their already compact weapons easier to wield in the tight confines. At least it was warm in here.

Silently they stalked down the hallway at a steady combat pace, weapons at a low-ready position, stopping at every door they encountered to sweep the room. So far they'd found nothing but storage, primarily filled with crates that were obviously illegal arms and, oddly enough, gold bars. Admittedly, the contents of all the crates they encountered couldn't be reliably determined through sight alone. The other teams moving through the ship fared little better, and each relayed similar findings via their respective comm-beads.

For a few moments Krieger feared this might be the wrong ship, that he might've killed someone that didn't deserve it, even if that person had been a 'shape-shifter'... Apparently those were a thing now. His doubts were silenced when his Artifact Detection medallion emitted a bright golden glow, shortly followed by those of his compatriots.

They had just happened upon another doorway, this one leading to a steep ladder stairwell that leading to the next deck below them. By now, the other three-man teams were moving throughout the rest of the ship, neutralizing its crew as they came across them... All had thus far reported the slain crew as having transformed in bursts of flame that altered their appearance, but otherwise left their clothing intact. One team had even seized the bridge, and at that moment were gradually altering the airship's course back towards Canterlot.

Krieger took point as they made their descent, leading his group down the steps into the bowels of the vessel. The airship's machinery churned and rattled to create a mighty racket throughout the space. Where the upper floor boasted carpet, which somewhat served to dampen noise, here there was nothing but cracked green linoleum. The passages were narrower, and constrained people to moving in single file, with the exception of a few areas where it widened ever so slightly to allow for persons to move past one another. Krieger honestly felt comforted at that...

At heart he'd always be a ship-board Marine, and the young man could rely on that experience to guide his movements through this new and hostile environment. Different as this ship was to those he'd served on in the past, most cargo ships in general had at least some common elements. More importantly, he was far better adapted to clearing around corners in such tight confinement. While most Lunar Marines that made it to Cerberus had some grasp of CQC operations, few had as much experience 'slicing the pie' as Krieger...

It was only a matter of time before the trio caught the sound of voices, speaking in Griffish, a language Krieger didn't understand in the slightest. They sounded calm, almost bored, and the noise emanated from the direction of what the young Corporal deduced to be the ship's mess. Raven and Baseplate took position one one side of the door, while Krieger took the risk of moving to the other... Each consulted their HUD, as the Artifact Detection medallion was linked to them. It indicated that whatever had set off the medallions was situated elsewhere, though they certainly were getting close. Still, leaving a group of hostiles to their own devices could quite literally come back to shoot them in the rear...

There was no telling how many men were in the mess deck, nor how many of them were armed, but it sounded like a sizable number. Certainly more than three people, Cerberus troopers or not, could handle in a frontal assault. The entrance to the mess hall was a dangerous chokepoint... Of course, that could also work to the team's advantage. Tight spaces and explosives tended not to mix well...

That being said, using explosives would blow any chance of remaining undetected. That outcome was never really in doubt, as orders were to purge basically everybody aboard the ship. Sooner or later, the assorted teams of Elkhound would find themselves detected. The only question was how many hostiles would come after them when that inevitably happened. Peering around the corner for just a second, Baseplate quickly moved back into cover.

"All teams, this is Baseplate... We're at the ship's mess, I count at least twenty hostiles inside. Preparing to neutralize." The Colonel began, using hand signals to tell Krieger to grab three of the grenades affixed to his web gear. The Corporal nodded, grabbing three of his four grenades and handing one to the Major. "We're going loud on my count..." With a little help from Raven, both Krieger and the Colonel yanked the safety pins free, holding the grenades' spoons in a death grip while the woman got in position near the heavy steel door to the mess. "Three... Two... One... Fire in the hole!"

Both men tossed the grenades through the door, the spoons springing away while the fuses emitted audible pops. The pineapple shaped explosives clattered across the metal floor in the mess deck, causing quite a stir while Raven quickly shoved the hatch for all she was worth. All Krieger heard inside was a startled 'Granate!', then the heavy slam of the door closing.

Three thunderous noises, 'Whump...! Whump! Whump!', resonated within the mess deck. They were simultaneously accompanied by the sound of scattering shrapnel, shattering glass, and panicked agonized screams. The force was great enough that the deck plates rattled beneath their feet, and Raven struggled temporarily to hold the door shut.

The hatch was opened with an eerie whine in the wake of the blast, and the trio of Cerberus troopers entered the mess hall, which now more resembled some sort of charnel house than a dedicated eatery. All but one of the light bulbs had been shattered, the sole survivor now swinging pendulously back and forth. The walls and ceiling were painted in vibrant glowing splashes and spurts of violet ooze, mixing with the blown-up remnants of sausage, steak, potatoes, and sauerkraut that a few moments previous had been situated on now demolished flatware. Shrapnel had embedded itself in the walls, not constrained to the pre-scored chunks of metal encasing the explosive charge. Twisted forks, knives, and even spoons had either dented or jammed themselves firmly into the bulkhead steel.

Jagged shards of glass and porcelain littered the floor and protruded from the bleeding bodies of living and dead alike, briefly the room was filled with various bursts of flame, though Krieger noted no increased heat or smoke... Just the changing appearances of the shape-shifters. They'd caught at least twenty of them in the mess hall, almost all of which lay sprawled in bloody unmoving heaps. A few of those that hadn't been outright killed by the grenades sat or stood in a daze, many with iridescent neon purple blood dribbling down from their ears. Others found their clothes shredded by dozens of fragments, each resulting in countless small lacerations which bled and splotched the fabric with a growing phosphorescent stain. These were the source of the pained screams, which resonated through the chamber to create a haunting echoing refrain.

A few fumbled for their sidearms at the sight of the intruders, but all were quickly dispatched with a series of well placed bursts from the troopers' Rivet Guns. The suppressors thankfully reduced the weapon's reports to a tolerable level, though it would've been obvious to even a casual listener that it was weapons fire. The ship's remaining crew was therefore undoubtedly aware of Elkhound's presence. The three troopers moved carefully through the twisted wreckage, each of them pausing momentarily to fire two or three rounds into each corpse.

Some had already changed, others burst into flames upon being fired upon a second time, but eventually all transformed into the strange purple-skinned insectoied-humanoid hybrids. In hindsight, this was exactly the sort of thing Krieger supposed he should've suspected working with Cerberus. They'd all seemed so authentically Griffish in their attire, not to mention the way they carried themselves... In the wake of their false feathery wings, the appendages that remained were more akin to what one might find a dragonfly saddled with.

Protocol indicated that any wounded persons the troopers left in their wake had to be taken prisoner, which unfortunately meant every single one of these 'shape-shifters' needed to be dealt with. Naturally, there were far more pragmatic reasons for ensuring they were well and truly dead. Firstly, the same reason they'd made the decision to take out the mess hall in first place. Even a wounded enemy could be a problem if he somehow managed to find the strength to rise and fight again. Secondly, considering the typically odd nature associated with the missions Cerberus teams undertook, it was best to do the physical body as much damage as possible. Vulpine had read at least seven different occasions where Cerberus went up against necromancers that'd chosen to level the playing field with the freshly slain.

"Mess hall secure. All hostiles neutralized." Baseplate announced, even as the sound of further gunfire and shouting erupted throughout the ship. Some of the fire was suppressed, but a fair portion of it was obviously bursts from AP-919s. Baseplate led the group back out into the hallway, though not before each of them took a moment to swap their depleted magazines for a fresh one. There was more gunfire audible from throughout the ship, and Krieger soon heard frantic communications from the others.

"By the Gods, they're everywhere!" One man shouted, more surprised than afraid, all while the ship's walls and vents shuddered with new found movements. "Shoot the air ducts! Shoot the-!" The entire atmosphere of the airship shifted, and it felt as if they'd very literally kicked a hornets nest. Baseplate remained unshakably calm throughout, even as Krieger and Raven eyed one another with a growing sense of unease.

"The mission remains the same. We need to deal with the artifact." The Colonel growled gutturally, casually letting off a burst into one of the ducts overhead. The fluorescent purple goo oozed from the bullet holes, cascading to the floor in thick viscous droplets. "Come on, get the lead out!" He shouted, gesturing out into the hallway while stepping over the unmoving corpses.

Navigating the airship's corridors was far quicker from that point forward, with an emphasis on speed and lethality as opposed to stealth. Krieger took point, utilizing his experience once again to find his way through the ship's narrow corridors. The mini-map feed was replaced with static, though the medallion continued to glow on his wrist. Every now and then they'd encounter one of the crew, whom had dropped the facade of griffon airship crewmen in favor of their true insect-like form. Most were equipped with AP-919s, which made the encounters that much more harrowing.

Most died just as easily as normal men, falling victim to the PM-72As superior stopping power and compact size. Others, the larger representatives of this strange shape-shifting species, were far less easy to dispatch. They'd forgone normal clothes in favor of heavy chitinous armor, with strength enough that they could physically bend bulkheads out of place. It took one entire thirty-round magazine of normal .45 ACP to bring one down, so Krieger made the decision to draw one of the magazines from the side pouches of his OUBC. These were marked with a yellow strip of tape, and contained the far more powerful .45 Basilisk.

The only problem was that each member of RTRF Elkhound had only a limited number of magazines with the more powerful round, as it was was primarily intended for use against dragons. Raven and Baseplate helped whenever they could, but the former found herself more concerned with dealing with the enemies squirming through the ventilation system, and the latter was focused on covering their rear as they advanced. There were way more than forty men aboard this ship, and the shape-shifters were almost literally pouring out of the woodwork.

Another one of the hulking humanoids roared bestially, presenting a carapice-like shield in front of it as it charged down the corridor towards Krieger. The man raised his Rivet Gun in a flash, squeezing the trigger and filling the hallway with chattering gunfire. The rounds penetrated the shield with comparative ease, and required only a quick four round burst to fell the rampaging brute. Navigating around his body proved far easier than Krieger would've expected, mostly on account of Raven using her magic to teleport the corpse behind them, creating an impromptu barricade against the hostiles coming up behind them.

At first Krieger assumed that what happened next was just his mind playing tricks on him, but it soon became apparent that the enemy was no longer attacking them. There was enough weapons fire throughout the ship to tell him that they were nowhere close to having eliminated the entire crew. It clicked when they reached an intersection that by all accounts shouldn't have been there, as it was nowhere near in keeping with the ship's layout as they'd previously experienced it.

Things became even more absurd, because the ship wasn't large enough to accommodate so many twisting corridors and adjacent compartments, at least, it shouldn't have been. The true height of strangeness arrived when he turned around, only to discover the hallway they'd just come down had somehow transformed into a dead end. Thankfully it seemed he wasn't the only one to notice, Baseplate was already in the process of warning the others.

"All teams, this is Baseplate. Possible perception warpers are in play, recommend swapping to 'True-Sight'..." The Colonel stated, his voice once again remaining as calm as collected as granite. "Let's see how these new toys of ours work."

Krieger and Raven did as suggested, flipping the toggle switch on his goggles to the 'True-Sight' setting. The visor was briefly awash with a lattice-work of green semi-transparant hexagons, which thankfully restored the 'dead end' to a proper hallway. Numerous calls came in over the comm-beads, confirming that the issues they'd been facing were likewise resolved.

Honestly, Krieger counted himself lucky he'd been able to accompany Baseplate, as he wasn't quite sure he'd be as calm himself... Again, Cerberus was very picky about who they chose. They wouldn't take anyone that couldn't keep their cool in extreme situations, but this was Krieger first encounter with the effects of an artifact, not to mention shape-shifting monsters with glowing blood... Of course, defeating the illusion also invited the enemy once more to attack them, and so to bloody slog deeper into the ship resumed.

The Corporal used his 'Basilisk' ammunition as sparingly as possible, but the resistance was becoming quite fierce... They must've been closing in on the shape-shifters' artifact, whatever that happened to be. Thankfully the mini-map returned with the illusory notions neutralized, and revealed that indeed the artifact they'd been seeking wasn't far off. They were just in the home stretch when one of the enemy defenders fired a burst blindly down the hallway... The first round struck a bulkhead, the second caught Krieger in his OUBC, while the third buried itself into his left shoulder with a burst of blood and pang of searing hot pain.

"Fuck!" Krieger growled, leaning his bleeding shoulder against the wall while taking several painful shallow breaths. The vest had caught the round that would've killed him, but it'd still hit him like a freight train. The more serious injury was the blood oozing painfully from his shoulder wound... Odds were it'd shattered his clavicle, at least, judging by the amount of pain radiating down his now limp arm. "Gah... I forgot how much this stings!" He hissed through clenched teeth, using the cover provided by a hatch in the corridor to assess his wounds.

Raven meanwhile used her smaller size to squeeze past him, firing a burst of her own down the hallway. Without missing a beat she grabbed one of the grenades from her webbing, then yanked the pin. The explosive parcel was tossed underhand down the corridor, bouncing along with three heavy 'clangs'.

"Grenade!" The Lieutenant bellowed before she and Baseplate joined Krieger behind the hatch. There was quite a commotion in the five seconds that followed, as though they spoke a different tongue, panicked confusion seemed to transcend language.

Krieger chanced a peek around the edge of the hatch, his heart nearly stopping in his chest as he watched one of the insectoids pick up the grenade in a hurried attempt to chuck it back. Attempt being the operative word, because the man's eyes were treated to the grenade exploding in the creature's hand, reducing it to little more than a cloud of glowing goo. Shrapnel and gore scattered all along the length of the hallway, with several pieces slamming into the hatch cover with enough force to visibly dent the metal. All of this was what informed Krieger that the grenade had indeed gone off, because he hadn't actually heard the explosion.

There'd been the pop of the fuse as the spoon flew away, the clatter of the grenade skittering along the floor, the panicked shouts, and then a brief violent 'Kra-!'... Followed thereafter by an insistent high pitched ringing sound. It was one thing to be outside the room when a grenade went off, and another entirely to stand so close. This, of course, was nothing new... Just as he'd been shot before, so too had he been party to numerous explosions. The pain in his ears, coupled with his previous experiences, told him he'd likely ruptured at least one of his eardrums. That, plus the throbbing bleeding pain in his shoulder told him he'd likely be laid up for a while when the mission was over... Assuming he survived.

It was amazing the sorts of thing a human body could endure without the person dying... He'd once seen one of his comrades shot twenty seven times in a fight with pirates, there wasn't a part of the man that hadn't been bleeding or bloodied in some fashion... By some stroke of luck, he'd still been able to walk himself into the infirmary under his own power, and had gone on to make a full recovery. These thoughts and others occurred in mere fractions of a second, and through a mixture of adrenaline, training, and sheer force of will, Krieger forced himself back into the fight.

With his left arm out of commission, the Corporal was instead forced to hold his PM-72A one handed. It was light enough so as not to be unwieldy, especially if he fired from the hip. The only problem was he was still running .45 Basilisk which not only increased the weapon's rate of fire, but also its recoil. Holding the weapon steady for more than one or two rounds would prove difficult. Reloading, likewise, was another area where he'd likely run into a problem.

Raven examined the man's wounded shoulder, conjuring an orb of blue-green magic to her palm before pressing it against the bloodied spot. She said something, but Krieger's hearing was still recovering from the grenade blast. Between the muffled sounds of her voice and the movement of her lips, he was nonetheless able to discern that the spell would act as a sort of 'bandage', at least until he got actual medical attention. He was needless to say relieved when the woman took the point, allowing him and Baseplate to move down the hallway...

The grenade had landed in another intersection, where half a dozen enemy soldiers had hold up. It'd taken them all out, painting the walls with a fine purple mist. The lights overhead flickered audibly, as thankfully the ringing in Krieger's ears faded. The gunfire throughout the ship slowly dwindling, until finally the lights went out entirely. Having dealt with the remaining crew in their path, Baseplate's team was converging on the forward cargo hold.

In a few minutes the ship had become eerily silent, even the machinery was muted and muffled. Each trooper's Artifact Detection medallion was glowing a brilliant shade of gold now, almost bright enough that Krieger had to look away. It was bright enough to immediately light up the surrounding area, which otherwise would've been pitch black. Not much of an issue for Krieger or Baseplate, but definitely for Raven. Were that not the case, she likely would've walked face first into a sealed metal water-tight doorway... Turning the metal wheel at its center, she undogged the hatch and pushed it inward...

The trio transitioned out of the cramped corridor and into a far more spacious chamber, ominously illuminated by flickering bursts of blue light. They stood on a metal catwalk that ran around the perimeter of a space, which ran a good three decks beneath them. The other Cerberus troopers of Team Elkhound were all arriving at roughly the same time, each filling out catwalks on the lower decks, all of with their weapons raised in an aggressive posture.

The cargo hold was larger than Krieger expected, filled with dozens of large wooden crates. They were secured to one another with heavy duty cargo straps, most of them being covered by drab brown tarps of the same make he'd seen on deck, while others were marked with emblems from a number of companies he recognized... 'Jet Set Construction', 'Solare Automotive', not to mention half a dozen that he didn't.

Krieger's focus was drawn more towards the presence of a dozen men and women standing at the floor of the chamber, in an area suspiciously devoid of clutter... All save a single wooden crate... A crate bearing the emblem of the Nocturne Agency. Resting atop that crate was a suspicious metallic sphere, pulsating with malevolent blue energy, which sparked and sputtered, giving off an aura of ancient power. Their detection medallions abruptly began flashing slowly, alternating between yellow and red, all while emitting audible chirping alarms.

Worryingly, Krieger spotted a new gauge on his goggles' HUD... An 'Arc-Rad Dosimeter', the number on which was slowly but steadily ticking upwards. Half of the hold's shape-shifting occupants were men dressed as one might expect professional mercenaries, armed with a mixture of Griffon SMGs and pistols. The others were attired in black hooded robes, each lined with purple piping. Their faces were concealed by shadow, save for their compound eyes, each glowing a faint shade of orchid. Five of them were women, each holding jagged daggers, while the single man of their group was festooned with a vibrant purple sash which appeared highly ceremonial in its design.

"In the name of the Nocturne Agency, surrender your weapons and get on your knees!" Baseplate bellowed, loud enough so as to not need his comm-bead. The guards looked at one another, their faces covered in sweat, as if wordlessly debating on what they should do. "Raven! Ward! Get to dispelling their magic!" The man ordered more quietly, prompting Raven and another of the Cerberus troopers to let their weapons hang slack on their webbing, then conjure glowing clouds of magic into their palms. "I will not ask you again! Safety your weapons and place them on the deck!"

Without heeding the Major's warning, the women each took their daggers and sliced open their palms, sending forth numerous gushes of vibrantly luminous purple blood which dripped and spattered on the rust ridden floor. That was all they really needed to do before everyone, Krieger included, opened up on the contingent. The mercenaries put up a short but decent fight, striking five troopers in total before being cut down. Of those five, Vulpine saw only two that didn't pick themselves up and resume firing, no doubt preserved by their OUBCs.

Most fire was concentrated on the would-be ritual casters, though a good amount of the bullets were deflected by a translucent energy barrier. Krieger's .45 Basilisk rounds managed to punch their way through, and with a short sustained burst he'd eviscerated four of the women before, inevitably, the weapon clicked empty. The man in the robes caught several rounds in the shoulder, while the sole surviving woman took several to her lower abdomen and forearm.

Both of were sent sprawling to the deck, and the shield of energy that'd previously preserved them flickered out of existence. Glowing purple blood commingled into a massive puddle, and the fire tapered off with a barely audible order from Baseplate... Krieger's ears were ringing again, and the collective chatter of so many gunshots in such a confined echo-prone space had once again reduced his ability to hear down to nothing but muffled vague notions of words, even suppressed as their weapons were.

Laying on the floor, likely in the process of succumbing to his wounds, the leader of the ritual still managed to conjure a pair of swirling back vortexes of magic. One he hurled at the crackling silver orb, the other was directed at the wounded woman. Both struck their targets almost simultaneously, and Krieger was forced to avert his eyes as a massive flash of magenta energy erupted throughout the hold. It was bad enough he'd been deafened, without risking also temporarily losing his sight. The accompanying crack of magic registered only as a faint whisper.

Opening his eyes again, Krieger saw that the wounded shape-shifter woman had commenced to laughing, all while the troopers opened fire on her specifically. For the next thirty seconds, the Corporal couldn't be sure of what exactly transpired, as another flash of light illuminated the room. Blinking the spots from his eyes, he observed the area where the ritual had been cast, now piled high with the remains of the dead... The blood that'd pooled there was gone somehow, and in its wake he saw a circle of fading glowing runes, melted clear as day into the steel itself.

Only eleven of the twelve expected corpses present... As with the blood, the woman that'd been struck with the spell having vanished entirely. The strange orb remained on its humble impromptu pedestal, appearing for all intents and purposes inert. The goggles revealed it possessed some sort of latent magical charge, but whatever energy it'd stored before had been dispelled now... Not by Raven or Ward's doing, as Krieger soon discovered.

Standard protocol dictated that the troopers now sweep the entire airship, from bow to stern, and take with them any documents, papers, or other materials that could possibly contain some clue as to what transpired there. The bodies of the shape-shifters, the ritualists in particular, were quickly secured in yellow body bags, while the crates in the hold swept for artifacts or other Agency property.

All in all, the 'Sweep and Clear' process took less than two hours, for which Krieger was present for only thirty minutes. He, like the other wounded, were quickly evacuated along with the first batch of materials and several prisoners that'd been taken when the bridge was seized. All items deemed pertinent to the Agency would eventually be loaded aboard a trio of flying chariots, then brought to the Agency's HQ where Krieger was to undergo medical treatment for his injuries.

When all was said and done, three troopers were seriously wounded, while three had sustained fractured or broken ribs. One man, unfortunately, was killed while clearing the forward section of the airship. All had been exposed to a mild dose of arcane radiation, with the dosimeter mechanisms of each trooper's goggles providing an exact dose so as to better target their treatment.

By comparison, the enemy suffered a near total loss, the only exception being the half dozen prisoners and the missing ritualist woman, whose status would be listed as 'Unknown - Presumed Active'. There was a good chance she'd simply been vaporized on the spot, but it was better to consider her alive than to close the book on her too early... Assuming a villain had been defeated forever the first time was a habit the Agency was working very hard to move past.

The data collected on the ritual, the now inert orb, and most importantly the strange circle of runes would be sent off somewhere for analysis by the Agency's 'Top Enchanting Expert'... The very same expert that'd provided the schematics on which all of Team Foxbat's new equipment were based. Given the effectiveness of those enchantments, Krieger had little doubt they'd figure out what, if anything, was the intended aim of the ritual.

With their work finally done, Krieger's compatriots disembarked the ill fated Warlock with everything of value, including as many intact dead bodies as could be appreciably salvaged... They'd also taken samples from strange insectoid-esque 'honey comb' structures that'd been constructed in the airships three other cargo holds. They were crafted from what was obviously an organic compound of some kind, though the details of which were quickly classified above Krieger's security clearance... Much as he was curious, he wasn't that curious, and much more preferred recovering so he could get back to work.

Those bodies that couldn't be recovered were deemed 'Dangerous to the Public Consciousness', and thus had to be destroyed. Krieger learned later that Warlock was set on a course towards a sleepy farming village, before scuttling charges destroyed its engines and ignited the ship's 'cargo'... A highly volatile substance named 'Unstable Sokolite', or something to that effect, placed there in large quantities by the Agency clean up team. The cover story was that the airship's unfortunate crew ran afoul of sky-pirates, which would explain any of the tell-tale signs of a firefight investigators on the ground might discover.

As it was later described to Krieger by Moonlight Raven whilst enjoying an 'I'm sorry you got shot' dinner, it'd appeared from the ground that a great ear-shattering explosion erupted from seemingly nowhere in the sky. The fireball was large enough to illuminate the world for five miles, and detonated with enough force to shatter windows all throughout the nearest town... The explosion itself wasn't what one might expect, as the flames were a vibrant emerald green, and left flickering embers of arcane energy dancing like thousands of fireflies. Whatever Unstable Sokolite was, it certainly did the job.

Flaming debris rained across the land for nearly twenty square miles, with massive fiery chunks sent hurtling across farmland and forests, some landing perilously close to a residential area. The airship fractured into numerous larger and smaller pieces. It'd been hoped that the fire would have enough time to burn up the blood and char the bodies beyond recognition as anything other than human, but the local fire brigade's response time was uncharacteristically short...

Fortunately, or at the very least conveniently, Unstable Sokolite gave off a mild amount of Arcane Radiation when it underwent detonation. The half-life was incredibly short, but it was enough to force the fire department to hang back long enough for radioactive isotopes to decay and, by extension, for the evidence to literally go up in smoke. Come morning, when the accident investigators of the Equestrian Ministry for Transportation Safety arrived to survey the wreckage, they'd find nothing of the crew but charred black bones... In the end, the incident would warrant only a few days media coverage at most, if that... It was, after all, just one airship. What impact could the loss of one ship really have?

Chapter 24

Princess Orzel sat sequestered in her laboratory's Enchanting Chamber, surrounded by the heavy aroma of frankincense and sage, with coiling serpentine patterns of smoke swirling up from a 'safety smoke pot' setting on her already crowded enchanting table. For the better part of the past month she'd been working to unlock the secrets of her pendant, which according to the EMCLAS test was somewhere on the order of fifty-thousand years old. That meant it pre-dated the collapse of the Kwarczkie Clan and the Ancients by twenty-five-thousand years, and perhaps made it the single most intact relic of that time period to exist.

Of course, the young Enchantress repeated the same one-hundred cycle test numerous times, more than enough to provide a conclusive sample size, which confirmed the original findings... It was needless to say one of the most exciting discoveries of Orzel's life, yet it was overshadowed by the very quality of enchantment that'd drawn her attention in the first place. The runes she'd seen within the ruby were, in fact, only the first of several layers. The others were hidden beneath them, or written at such a small scale that they were all but invisible to the microscopes Orzel had on hand.

The Princess had prayed for guidance, for some assistance from Lexicos to help her uncover more of the mystery... The answer to that prayer had come in the form of an idea. While all enchanted items generally drew arcane power from the ambient energy around them, they still possessed an internal reservoir that needed to be replenished from time to time. If that reservoir could be replenished, perhaps she could discern more of the pendants enchantments, and how those enchantments functioned... Typically that wouldn't be an issue, Orzel made all of her enchantments with an easy to remember process for restoring magic, but the pendant was a fifty-thousand year old artifact. She could only guess as to how to recharge it.

Presently she was waiting to use the EMCLAS to prepare the pendant for a small scale test, as its powers were barely functional at present, much as had been the case with her family's sword prior to her arrival. The EMCLAS could bombard the object in its chamber with a massive volume of magic, which Orzel intended to use as a metric of finding the proper location to apply more power... As with most things, however, her eagerness to work on the pendant was tempered by that all too annoying facet of reality. Time. It would be another twelve hours before the EMCLAS was finished with its current task, and thus for now the Princess still wore her pendant...

Time, however, was hardly on Orzel's side. The fact remained that she was nowhere near close to uncovering the answers she sought, and unfortunately that meant she'd needed devote her attention to matters that required her immediate attention in the interim. Project Gungnir was coming along at a snail's pace, but it was coming along. Her other projects, particularly the 'High Mobility Multipurpose Vehicle' and the recently renamed 'Helicopter', were proving far less challenging.

The prototypes for each vehicle had been produced entirely in Equestria, the former being sub-contracted to Rook Automotive and the latter by Raketnaya Aeronautics. Each was in need of improvement, but that was to be expected. They were, after all, prototypes. The Helicopter's engine was rather anemic, only capable of lifting itself and the pilot a few feet off the ground. Plans for a larger helicopter with a stronger engine were in the works... The HMMV on the other hand had an unfortunate susceptibility to Anti-Vehicle Mines and small arms fire, though its sturdy chassis, automatic transmission, and exceptionally high ground clearance made it remarkably reliable... Reliable enough that there were already plans to 'Up-Armor' the HMMV, though there was some concern that might limit its off-road utility in a desert environment.

All of these problems were ostensibly now the responsibility of 'Doctor Moondancer', whom Mister Gaze had recruited to oversee 'Domestic Research and Development'. Moondancer was certainly talented, and she understood a lot of the concepts Orzel was trying to implement, but there were still snags. It wasn't just her own company that'd been drawing on her considerable experience. The Agency wanted more and more enchantment schematics, and though she easily managed to fill most of their requests, there was always more to replace them. Often Orzel would receive messages and letters asking for clarification as to why she'd made a certain decision, and then she'd have to explain at length the reason that the rune appeared one way and not another.

Were that the extent of the matters that consumed nearly every waking moment of every day, Orzel might still have been able to eek out some meager facsimile of free time. Unfortunately, it wasn't... The most important matter she was dealing with in particular, the one that she presently labored over with a rising sense of dread and frustration, had landed on her desk roughly around the same day she'd made her startling discovery about her pendant, though she doubted they were related.

Cerberus had raided a Griffon Airship, only to discover its crew were Changelings, Changelings that'd conducted at least one part of some dark ritual before they could be stopped completely. The photographs and samples provided were very strange... The runes bore striking resemblance to a script that'd existed long ago, in the time of the Ancients. Orzel deduced it was likely derived from that script, much as Modern Szafirian wasn't entirely identical to Ancient Kwarczkie.

They were similar enough so as to be near indistinguishable, but it was the minute and otherwise seemingly inconsequential changes that made translating the text that much harder. To do so required Orzel first to learn the ancient script in question, which bore a remarkable resemblance to Ancient Griffish in form, if not function. She'd requested that the airship be sent to her, or at the very least the piece of floor that housed the runes, only to discover that the airship and its contents had been destroyed shortly after the photographs were taken. They did, however, send her the artifact they'd recovered. Said artifact now occupied the EMCLAS, being bombarded with magic to hopefully discern its purpose and era of manufacture.

Until that data came in, Orzel had nothing to go on but the photographs... She'd done more with less, but first she had to translate what the runes actually meant. Every test she ran, ever lead she pursued, had the unfortunate side effect of generating quite a lot of paper... The more she researched the language, the more notes she took, the more clutter appeared, the harder it became to find the notes she'd made in the past...

Her normally orderly Enchanting Chamber had become cluttered with boxes upon boxes, each filled with countless notebooks, photographs, dossiers, files, documents, and folders. Between them and the various books and tomes she'd requested for reference material, the room more resembled a filing archive than a space in which the arcane arts were practiced. These boxes were nonetheless stacked in neat orderly fashion, with corridors between them that were just wide enough for Orzel's diminutive four-foot-eleven frame to pass through. It represented only a small fraction of the papers, as her drafting room on the other side of the laboratory and even her bedchamber had also suffered a similar fate.

It was a miracle she remained as calm as she did, especially considering the almost literal mountain of work that now loomed around her... A lot of her barely maintained calm she attributed to her studies in High Magic, particularly the Astral Projection spell. She and Spike had conversed twice a week since her first use of that spell, and getting to privately spend several hours at a time with the person she cared about didn't hurt.

Spike didn't want anyone, not even Twilight, to know... Not that he didn't trust her, he just wasn't sure how his Mother would react to the idea of him and Orzel being to communicate unsupervised. The Princess didn't really mind the secrecy, she was sure her Mother wasn't keen on the idea when informed by Grim and Fable, though she hadn't done anything to stop the practice either. It wasn't as if she could keep things a secret forever.

Sometimes Orzel and Spike would 'walk' through the meadows outside of Ponyville, others they would sit together beside a river, or underneath that same tree at the edge of town. There they would discuss the future, or whatever was going on in their lives. Spike was still very curious about the work Orzel did, and the girl did her best to answer his questions without going too far into detail...

She had, however, deviated from typical security procedure in one respect. Spike lived in Ponyville, one of the towns the Agency considered a 'Hotspot' for paranormal activity. As such, there was a good chance the FDPV might inadvertently stumble upon such a happening. Knowing just how dangerous some of these happenings could be, she'd given Spike some insight into various code words, just in case he found something...

'Parallax' for instance indicated a potential time or dimensional distortion anomaly, while 'Beachhead' referred to an incursion of hostile forces from another plane of existence. 'Blackwood' was a little trickier to explain without giving too much away, so Orzel had defined it as the anomalous presence of 'Duplicate Uniformed Personnel' combined with a 'fluorescent liquid of unknown origin'. If Spike was ever to encounter even one of these scenarios in the field, he was to contact Piercing Gaze, or failing that the Nocturne Agency in Canterlot. He was to say the codeword first, then give as much information as he was able...

It would probably get her in trouble if ever her bodyguards found out, but assuming Spike ever did happen upon one of the various scenarios she'd informed him of, he would be safer for it. A Cerberus Team would deploy within the hour to handle the threat, whatever it was... Spike just had to be absolutely sure that what he was dealing with was indeed paranormal... Otherwise there'd be Tartarus to pay on Orzel's part... Of course she would gladly pay it, if it meant Spike was safe...

The Princess honestly wished she could be Astral Projecting with Spike at that very moment, because for however much as she was able to remain outwardly calm, her present work had her mind working overtime. The Princess's eyes stared intently at the pages of a textbook on the particulars of 'Greater Transmutation', the magic precursor to Alchemy, as what she'd deciphered of the runes so far made mention of exchanging one thing for another. In spite of her impressive acumen for speed reading, she'd not turned the page in nearly five minutes. It could only mean that there was something else occupying her thoughts.

Orzel didn't need to think too extensively to realize that 'something' was Spike... The young man was in her thoughts almost constantly, to an almost obstructive degree. He still referred to her as 'My Lady', especially after Orzel had explained its endearing, if somewhat literal, connotations in Szafirian society. For all intents and purposes, the girl certainly considered the term accurate. She was his 'Lady', her heart belonged to him...

This wasn't the first time that Orzel's mind strayed from her work to matters of the heart, though it was perhaps the most disruptive it had been since that day in the Castle Library, when she'd first read 'For The Republic'. The discovery she'd made about herself as a result of reading that book was something she still struggled to accept, even nearly a year later. Orzel still remembered the visceral self-loathing that'd taken root in that instant... She'd feared herself a dissident, a traitor to her people... The thought that her parents' had died saving such a person had not sat well.

Now she knew she was a dissident, but that word hardly bothered her as much. The Equestrians were her people, and she had devoted herself to her own 'Duty to the State' by her own choosing... She hoped that she would have made her parents proud, even if there was a part of her that knew they'd likely be horrified at the person she'd become. In the end, however, Orzel deduced that wasn't the primary issue that'd drawn her thoughts from her work. Rather, it was a quiet curiosity, one that'd lingered in the shadows ever since she and Spike had admitted their feelings for one another... What would her life have been like, had Cesarski never burned? Where would she be now, had she and Spike never met?

Being nearly seventeen, her Mother and Father would've been seeking to finalize an agreement between her and suitable suitor, making the appropriate arrangements for her marriage when she came of age. Odds were it would've been Midshipman Bazyli, or perhaps Yuri Zhukov, son of the Supreme Legate of the Imperial Legion... Both would've been considered good candidates, though the latter was rumored to be far more concerned with glory than most.

Yuri would likely have been the most effective choice, assuming Mother and Father were aiming to ensure Orzel's safety from the MIS. Even a cur like Agent Zhelezo wouldn't dare to accost the daughter-in-law of the Supreme Legate. Yuri himself was said to be very protective, though he was also known to be just as exacting and stern as his father. Orzel's life with him would've been safe, and certainly comfortable given the wealth possessed by the Supreme Legate, but as the Equestrians would put it, Orzel would have been little more than his son's 'arm candy' for social functions within Imperial High Society. Her fate would've been similar with Bazyli, or anyone else for that matter, as really that was all 'Defective Spouses' were expected to be...

Knowing what she knew now, any notion of an arranged marriage unsettled Orzel greatly, but... In a world where Cesarski hadn't burned, she never would've known of freedom or liberty, or the joys and knowledge that could come from a 'seditious' book. She would be ignorant of all that she now held dear and, appallingly, content in her role as 'arm candy', because that was what she was conditioned to feel, lest the MIS come to pay her another, potentially final, visit.

It was a sobering realization, to think that all she had become, all she had accomplished here, was the result of such suffering and death. As much as it might've seemed arrogant to think, Orzel believe now that her survival was more than some cosmic accident. One way or another, Cesarski had been doomed... Lexicos must've seen Orzel's plight, and being the all-knowing and merciful Goddess of Knowledge that she was, plucked the girl out of a world of abysmal prospects and deposited her into one where those prospects were nearly limitless.

Sighing heavily through her nose, Orzel closed the book and slid it to the side, resting her elbows on the cold obsidian slab of her enchanting table. There was no way she'd be able to continue her work at present, not with her mind racing from one point to another. Even with regular meditation, it was growing difficult to keep track of all the thoughts in her head, all the ideas, all the inventions... Add that to the meticulous notes she kept, and it was becoming next to impossible to get much of anything done.

Her brain's ability to process information moved so fast now that sometimes, even when she hadn't been meditating deeply, time felt as if it was traveling at a different rate. Sometimes faster, sometimes slower, but always frustrating in its inconsistency. In these cases, Orzel found it best to step away from whatever she was working on presently and move on to something else. Closing the book on transmutation, she moved it over to the side and glanced around her enchanting table, spotting a nearby cardboard box with its lid resting askew.

Orzel neatly set aside her papers regarding the ritual circle, then the box closer. It was identical to every other one that surrounded her, though its contents were comprised of various bits and pieces of electronic equipment rather than papers or photographs. It was a prototype of what amounted to a portable scheduling and research device, something she hoped might help her to reduce the clutter of all the paper and boxes. In essence, it was a portable library, though it was capable of doing so much more. She'd therefore dubbed it the 'Katalog Badań Osobistych', or 'Catalog of Personal Research' in Equestrian.

It was her latest attempt to blend electronics with enchantments, taking inspiration from the various computers she'd used in her time at Site R. Rather than create one singular enchanted item with many enchantments that needed to be strung together in one long unbroken sequence, she'd decided to create a battery of smaller ones. Various runes placed on small metal cards which could be inserted or removed into one 'Modular Assembly'... It was essentially a primitive facsimile to the 'Layered Enchantments' she'd discovered in her pendant.

If the new method of enchanting proved successful, it might go a long way towards a solution for Project Gungnir's missile guidance system. Not only that, but it could revolutionize the way enchanted items were created! Progress was already being made on an ability to 'stamp' runes consistently into sheets of metal... If that technology were combined with Orzel's Modular Assembly concept, it could make devices like the KBO viable for sale to the public...

An especially hopeful outcome was that they could be made available to students and faculty alike. Books that once would've been to expensive to get ahold of could potentially be stamped into a piece of metal the size and shape of a playing card! Literacy could be greatly increased, and as a result the number of scientists and mages working in Equestria would increase, which would increase scientific advancement! The Princess had to stop herself, then shook her head, she was allowing her brain to go sprinting off into the future again...

Unlike her earlier prototypes, this version of the KBO had been lavished with the most comprehensive changes Orzel could conceive of. It weighed approximately three pounds, a whole four pounds lighter than her earlier model. Another benefit of the Modular Assembly was that a higher density of enchantments could be inter-connected without requiring an incredible amount of weight. In terms of the missile program, weight saved in the guidance system was weight that could be used for increased fuel capacity, or a larger warhead.

In addition to keeping track of her notes and reading material, she'd installed several small cold cathode display tubes and even a small cathode ray tube screen, similar to those in the EMCLAS Control Panel... When all was said and done, her KBO would theoretically serve as a radio receiver, library, notation medium, navigation aid, watch, and even possibly a medical monitoring system. Orzel had even been able to link it to her satchel, to a point where all she need do was flick the appropriate switches, turn a knob, hit a button, and anything she stored within would materialize directly in her hand.

It had taken a fusion of every discipline she knew to get this far... Personally, she doubted this model would ever work entirely as she hoped, but if it accomplished even half of its designed tasks she'd consider it a success. Again, there was a reason Lexicos invented the concept of prototypes. It wouldn't be the end of the world, even if the KBO failed spectacularly she'd get a good amount of useful data.

Grabbing one of her enchanting styluses and a pouch of WKD, she reached into the box and withdrew a small flat slip of metal, approximately the size and shape of a playing card. This was the latest iteration of a 'Runic Plate', the card of aluminum that allowed her to pack so many enchantments in such a small package. It was one of nearly a dozen that had to be painstakingly created by hand. Yet another benefit of the modular design was being able to take plates that worked and move them on to the next prototype without having to create entirely new ones from scratch.

Orzel adjusted her grip on the stylus, dipped it back into the pouch of WKD, and resumed her work from her last rune. As was always the case when using the incredibly potent medium, her focus had to remain acute, as any error she made would afford her less than two seconds to correct. Of course, considering how things around her seemed to slow down when she was working, two seconds was usually more than enough.

For the next thirty minutes the Princess continued to work on the Runic Plate, until once again she found herself struggling to maintain her focus... She had plenty ideas, she knew what runes had to be placed and where, but found her thoughts once again diverting to other matters. In this case it was once more on the matter of prototypes, specifically an idea she had for the Vasiliskov Rifle - Experimental. That was the PVV's new designation, seeing as Vasiliskov Rifle or VRX was far easier for Equestrians to pronounce on its own, it also consumed much less ink to print on order invoices... It never failed to amaze Orzel the lengths the Army would go to in order to save money... Where was she? Oh, yes, the VRX!

Orzel had already designed it with an eye towards reliability and versatility, but... What if she could modify it in a modular fashion, much as she was doing now with the Runic Plates? What if the single platform could be altered to fit numerous needs? Something that could act as a sniper rifle, light machine gun, or carbine, depending on its configuration. It would minimize the amount of replacement parts necessary for the various arms already in service with the military, which would in turn simplify logistics and make the weapons easier to maintain.

News of the latest VRX test in Equestria was promising, both in the single shot semi-automatic version and the one with burst fire. Recent global events had seen the Army offer a contract for a new infantry rifle. The fact that was precisely what the VRX was intended to serve as, plus the Nocturne Agency's apparent satisfaction with the PM-72A and the Vasiliskov prototype, gave Orzel's design a considerable edge against its competitors. Compared to some of the other rifles that'd been put forward, almost all of which were bolt-actions, the VRX outclassed the weapons it went up against in almost every field...

The only places it fell short, in the first case quite literally, was the reduced range of the 7.62x39mm cartridge, and the currently limited availability of said ammunition. Perhaps if she could develop a means of extending its range in a marksman variant? Rubbing tiredly at her temples, the Princess secured her enchanting supplies and returned the unfinished Runic Plate to its box. Orzel closed her eyes and groaned, then rested her head on the cool obsidian surface of her enchanting table. Why couldn't she just stay on topic...? A few moments later she heard the usual fluttering wings of Midnight, the familiar landing just a foot or so in front of her judging by the sound of it.

"Bored?" The bird asked pointedly, Orzel shook her head while taking a deep breath. "Really? Because you look bored." There was something about the cadence of the bird's voice that struck the girl as unnervingly familiar... She'd heard her familiar speak numerous times before, but not like this. It was almost... Chiding her? "I am not surprised. You have been so focused on one project for so long that you are searching for any means to alleviate the monotony, but the depth of your boredom is so great that you find all of your other projects equally tedious. You want something new." The Princess opened her eyes and lifted her head to look at Midnight, once again trying to place the source of that voice... It just wouldn't come to her.

"My work is of vital importance to Equestria's defense. It does not matter what I want, I cannot waste time." Orzel responded flatly, sighing heavily through her nose as she stood from her seat and straightened her lab coat. "I already have enough projects as it is without starting a new one, I am merely... Winding myself up. I need to 'blow off some steam', as the Equestrians say." Rolling her shoulders, the Princess allowed Midnight to hop onto her shoulder before making her way into the Contamination Minimization Chamber.

Maybe the bird was somewhat right about Orzel being bored, but it wasn't as if the girl could just go waste time in order to end her boredom. She had far too much work to do, and far too little time in which to do it. No, there was no time for 'fun' any more... Much as she would've enjoyed working on her next batch of enchantments for the Agency, Orzel doubted she'd be able to remain focused on that task for longer than she had the previous one. That was probably the worst part about all this...

She kept pin-balling from one topic to another, each one holding the potential to change the world in one form or another, but the ideas came and went so swiftly as to leave her spinning... Worst of all, Orzel didn't even know why it was happening. There were a few OUBC 'Spall Coating' tests Orzel was planning to conduct over lunch, but there was nothing stopping her from carrying them out a little early. A little time at the shooting range would surely alleviate some of the anxious energy, shouldn't it?

Several jets of decontaminating mist flooded the chamber, infused with various anti-bacterial agents and Arcogen gas, to neutralize any arcane particles that might've attached themselves to Orzel's clothes. Looking up at the clock within the CMC prompted Orzel to do a double take... It was only zero-nine-hundred hours in the morning... She could've sworn she'd been working in her enchanting chamber for something like five or six hours. Assured that she didn't pose a risk of contamination to her workspace, the Princess stepped out into the lab proper.

From there the girl grabbed her satchel from one of the lab islands, then made her way towards a row of metal lockers beside the elevator. Touching her ID badge to one of the doors, Orzel opened the door and beheld its contents... The weapon into which she'd poured all her vast intellect, one that, if properly introduced, could shape the world of small arms design for decades to come...

Taken as a whole, the VRX was probably Orzel's small arm that she'd designed thus far. It was an odd looking weapon, but the reason for that oddness was part of what made it so effective. Weighing eight pounds in total, it made use of a long-stroke gas piston to operate its action. Most of the gas assembly was concealed beneath the forward hand-guard, save for a distinctly angular gas block, lined with three small vents to relieve some of the pressure. The receiver itself had been milled from a single piece of forged steel, and so either side of the forward trunnion was marked by a 'Lightning Cut' so as to reduce weight.

A hooded front sight sat atop an oddly shaped muzzle break, intended to direct gas in a certain direction so as to make it easier for the shooter to keep their aim on the target. The weapon's furniture included a birch laminate, pistol grip, and forward heat and hand-guards, while its stock was of a folding style almost identical to that of the PM-72A. This prototypical variant was intended for the Navy, the Lunar Marines, and the Army Air Corps, all branches were the compactness of a weapon was a priority.

As with all of the prototypes she'd sent along to the Agency for review, it fed from a thirty round magazine that curved almost like a banana. In this case they were slab sided aluminum, coated in a material similar to rust-colored Bakelite. Orzel found that ribbed steel magazines easier and sturdier to produce in the long run, but she rather liked the Bakelite aesthetic, so she'd gone out of her way to make a few. There were many in the Army Ordnance department that felt the same way, though the Lunar Marines and Cerberus in particular felt the bright coloration impeded a soldier's ability to blend into his surroundings.

Each thirty-round magazine, twenty in total, was filled with 7.62x39mm rounds. There was still some debate as to if it would be cheaper to manufacture them with steel cases as opposed to traditional brass, but at this point brass seemed the more likely outcome... The infrastructure for the creation of brass cartridges already existed in Equestria, and Orzel agreed that was probably for the best. Steel case was markedly more wear intensive on the weapon's inner mechanisms, though...

That wear really didn't seem to impede the VRX, which had thus far displayed a remarkable ability to survive regardless of if it was filled with dirt, mud, sand, snow, ice, water or even after having accidentally been run over by a five-ton truck. If anything, the weapon was a little too sturdy, as the ejector as originally design tended to want to rip the heads off of brass casings... Orzel had thus sent several prototypes of a revised 'ejector' to correct for the issue. It would likely be more cost effective in the long run to move to cheaper steel case ammunition, but for now the Army lacked the budget for so great a change to its logistical train, especially seeing as that logistical chain was still mired in controversy.

Placing the magazines into her satchel, the Princess took the rifle and delicately secured it in a cloth rifle bag also hanging in the locker. From there it was a simple matter of slinging the bag over her shoulder, closing the locker door, and making her way to the elevator call button. Tapping her badge to the ID scanner, Orzel was rewarded with a green light and soft chime. She stood there for a few moments, listening to the machinery as it brought carriage down. Stepping into the carriage when it arrived, she once again tapped her ID badge and selected the 'Ground Floor' button.

Thus commenced the ride to the surface, which Orzel and Midnight usually spent in silence. A soft cheerful song filled the carriage, all while the Princess nervously tapped her foot on the tiled flooring. To her slight surprise she saw another light flick on among the floor buttons, and within a few moments the elevator was nearing the 'Abnormal Biological Observation and Mutated Subjects Laboratory', situated several stories above Orzel's underground lab. She inwardly cringed at the name of the lab, there was always some comment made by those working in ABOMS Lab on account her appearance. Wordlessly she prepared herself for the inevitable awkward meeting, meanwhile Midnight blinked out of sight.

The the floor indicator chimed delicately, and a few moments later the door slid open. Moving out of the ABOMS Lab, with an expression of extreme annoyance, wearing clothes distinctly not in keeping with a laboratory environment, was a kid... A teenaged girl, like her. Orzel didn't know this particular girl personally, though she'd spotted her once or twice in the cafeteria. She was being escorted into the elevator by an older looking gentleman of average height, bearing the aspect of a life long administrator. His slight build and delicate features pegged him almost instantly as a Spell-Caster, while the graying blonde goatee and harsh narrow eyes identified him as Director Quercus Suber.

The Director was the highest ranking Civilian Scientist at Site R, a botanist by trade, though he'd expanded his disciplines to become a sort of 'jack of all trades' as a consequence of his position. His authority didn't extend over Orzel's false 'Researcher Boyegolovka' identity, as she was there as a 'Military Scientist'. His security clearance wasn't high enough to know her true identity, or the grand majority of the work Orzel did in her lab, with bothered him to no end. Those were just some of the numerous reasons the two tended to avoid one another...

"I don't expect to see you down here again, Alba." Suber grunted with audible frustration, which was somewhat explained given the obvious family resemblance between Suber and 'Alba'... "Labs are no place for children." Suber continued chidingly, his eyes briefly falling on Orzel, his features gradually mired in silent disdain. Orzel pretended not to notice at first, but after a few moments made a show of perking up.

"What did you say?" She asked in Draconic, keeping to the cover story that she didn't speak Equestrian well. Then, to her everlasting surprise, Alba actually responded.

"He's not talking to you." The girl assured in Draconic, then turned her attention back to Suber. "I was just looking around, Dad. It's not like there's much else to do here!" Alba continued with frustration, crossing her arms across her chest as the two boys accompanying her scurried swiftly into the elevator itself. "If you don't want me to make my own fun, the least you could do is get them to clear some that new minefield they set up on the beach!" Orzel quietly averted her eyes at the mention of the minefield, she'd already become intimately acquainted with the perils that arose when one strayed into one.

"I don't like it anymore than you do, dear, but there's nothing I can do. You know how they are with 'security'." Suber stated with a bothered tone, pointing into the elevator and finally coaxing Alba fully inside. "As I said, a lab is no place for children, especially today. I'm not saying you can't make your own fun, just not here. Now go." Alba sighed with resignation but nodded as Suber leaned in and touched his ID badge against the security crystal. It glowed a typical green, and with that the Civilian Director of Site R stepped out of the elevator.

The doors closed, and thus the elevator continued on its lengthy ride to the surface. Obviously Alba intended to go to the ground floor as well, though... Orzel didn't see an ID badge on her person, so that begged the question as to how she'd gotten so far under ground... Perhaps the air shaft? The ride to and from the surface typically somewhere on the order of seven minutes, possibly longer if someone else decided to board, and Orzel suspected it'd be an even longer journey by ladder in the air shaft, so it seemed unlikely. Unsure of how to speak to the newcomer, Orzel did her best to remain focused on the wall ahead of her, though once again she found herself nervously tapping her foot against the floor.

"So... Did your parents kick you out of their lab too?" Alba abruptly spoke up in Draconic, though not nearly as fluent as Orzel's, as she was limited by the relative shortness of her tongue. The Princess silently shook her head, adjusting the strap of the satchel and again the rifle case. "What's the deal then, huh? Why didn't you get told off? Normally Dad freaks out whenever he spots a kid anywhere near the labs."

Orzel bit her lower lip as she considered how best to respond, by now the sharpness of her teeth didn't even register. After a few moments of uneasy contemplation, she merely unclipped her ID badge from the breast pocket of her lab coat and held it up for Alba to see. Silently she braced for the ultimate realization as to her identity as the controversial 'Researcher Boyegolovka', and the subsequent 'Using Magic for War is Bad' lecture that almost invariably followed. Alba examined the badge for a few moments, Orzel could quickly see the recognition in the girl's eyes, it wouldn't be long now.

"Wait, you're that Boyegolovka kid? I didn't think you actually existed!" Alba said in Equestrian, unable to hide her astonished excitement. Orzel managed to maintain her stoic facade, although internally she was just as astonished as the girl. Orzel clipped the badge to her jacket again, then tilted her head to the side, feigning ignorance as to what the other girl had just said. "I'm Alba, it's really nice to meet you! I didn't think you were, y'know... Real?"

The girl swapped back to Draconic, gesturing to herself. This was the first time Orzel had paid her any actual attention. As in all things, Alba was taller than her, though only by a few inches. Her posture was proud, almost cocky, and her dainty face seemed set in an almost perpetual impish smirk. She was quite beautiful, at least in the Equestrian sense of the word. Once again, Orzel found herself very aware of her numerous aesthetic shortcomings... Though now whenever those thoughts arose, she would just think back to Spike...

The Princess greatly appreciated whenever her wrote to her about her 'Draconic Beauty', but only in the month since she'd started Astral Projection had she started to believe it herself. The way he talked to her, the way he smiled so warmly, it was enough to convince her that she was beautiful... To him, and in the end that was really Orzel cared about. Working to move past a crippling need for external validation about her looks was the next problem Orzel intended to tackle in therapy...

"You don't talk much, do you?" Alba asked rhetorically, Orzel simply shrugged, tucking her hands into the pockets of her lab coat. "I like that... Everyone around here just talks all the time, about all sorts of stuff..." The girl continued somewhat tiredly, rubbing awkwardly at the back of her neck. "Can I tell you a secret? I mean, you don't speak Equestrian, so who could you tell?" Orzel opened her mouth to correct the girl, but again chose to maintain her cover. Besides, she had an exceptionally high Security Clearance Level. Alba might as well have been telling her secret to Director Orcus himself.

"I can't stand all the science and learning stuff! My Mom forced me to learn Draconic, y'know? This is the first time I've ever used it. Said it'd look good for admissions so I could go to college, but I don't really want to go to college!" Alba continued, just plowing along, her pronunciation slipping just a tad as she went. "I wanna be a wizard or an enchantress or something, and not like my Mom who studies magic 'theory'. I don't want to study for studying sake, y'know? Not like the scientists... All they do is sit around in their labs all day, looking at stupid numbers and graphs and data and-" Orzel cleared her throat rather loudly. "Uh... No offense intended..." She added sheepishly, to which Orzel merely shrugged again.

"So... Uh..." Alba began again after several tense seconds of awkward silence. "What's in the bags?" Orzel opened her mouth to respond, then stopped herself. She had a High Security Clearance, Alba didn't, and a lot of the work that she did in her lab as considered to be a State Secret. Even if that wasn't the case, she still wouldn't have felt comfortable speaking about it with a random teenager.

"I cannot say." Orzel stated stoically, though Alba seemed unconvinced. "I am curious. How did you get down here without a badge of your own?" The blonde grinned at that, then walked up to the elevator's ID badge scanner.

Fishing around in the pocket of her jeans, she withdrew a small piece of emerald, its surface lined with several deeply gouged runes. Holding the emerald up to the badge scanner, she channeled a small of magic into it, causing the runes to glow a bright orange color. The scanner glowed a familiar shade of green, and Orzel watched Alba press a button that was all too familiar to her.

"I learned how to enchant stuff like this all by myself! That's why I can't wait to get out of here, I wanna be an artist!" Alba declared, pulling her finger away from the button at the top floor. Orzel had to bite her tongue at that, she wasn't about to turn someone away from enchanting on account of a difference of opinion... Besides, the Princess knew she was right, so what was the use in arguing the point further? "Anyway, this little baby duplicates the scan of the last person that swiped! Part of the reason I needed to come down here. I've been trying for weeks to get to the top floor, this is just the first time I've gotten it to work with my Dad's card! He's the boss here, y'know? He can go anywhere, so if I can duplicate his swipe, so can I."

"May I?" Orzel asked curiously, gesturing at the emerald. Alba briefly held out her hand, then withdrew it before looking intently at the bag. Her request was easily implied. "I specialize in Advanced Weapons Research. I can say no more than this." Alba quirked an eyebrow, rubbing curiously at her chin before hesitantly offering the emerald. Orzel took it gingerly and examined it. "Would you care for a critique?" This time it was Alba's turn to shrug. "Your use of emerald is a good choice, though your rune work could use a little refining. Right now I am estimating your success rate at forty-two percent? You would have far greater success replicating the complex signatures emitted by our ID gems if you utilized a more potent medium." Alba took the emerald back and examined it again.

"I've been begging my Dad to let me take some from the Enchanting Wing, but he says it's not for anyone to use. I make due with what I can salvage from the desiccant packets that come with the monthly supplies..." Alba admitted somewhat proudly, and Orzel nodded in appreciation of that... It was a testament to her skill as an Enchantress that she was able to synthesize a usable medium from Incandessium and Enchantium desiccant packets, much as Orzel had. "That stuffs been getting harder to come by lately, they keep diluting it, makes it less potent."

"New safety measures." Orzel explained with a shrug, prompting Alba to raise an eyebrow. "Under certain conditions, the desiccants can become dangerously unstable and detonate..." The elevator continued on, swiftly passing the ground floor. The Princess glanced over at Alba, who appeared skeptical about Orzel's statement. Nonetheless she gained a giddy glint in her eyes as the car carried on upwards. "Are you sure it is wise to go to the top floor? There is a reason it is off limits." Orzel's eyes remained fixed on the rising floor indicator, in just a few moments they'd be arriving at her floor...

"Yeah, didn't you hear? There's supposed to be some big shot living up there, but I've seen tons of those guys in those spooky uniforms go up and down all the time. My bet is it's some sort of secret bar, or some sort of casino, or maybe a secret government command center..." Alba explained giddily, and Orzel got the feeling it was possible for the best she not seek a career in science... Not that she'd want to prevent her companion from doing so, but honestly... A secret casino? Then again, Orzel knew all too well what awaited them on the top floor. In a matter of moments the elevator came to a stop, the floor indicator chimed, and the doors slid open.

Alba visibly flinched when she found a pair of Cerberus Troopers standing on the other side, dressed in the now standard CERPAT battle uniform. Orzel remained calm as ever, even as her companion frantically looked to push one of the lower floor buttons on the panel.

"Researcher Boyegolovka?" One of the men asked in Equestrian, Orzel merely nodded. "We weren't expecting you back so soon, or that you would be bringing a guest..." The man narrowed his eyes at Alba, grip tightening ever so faintly on his PM-72A. "She is a guest, right?" The Princess nodded again, and so both men loosened their grips on their weapons and stepped out of the way. "Alright then."

Orzel really hadn't been planning on coming back to her residence when she'd left her lab, but she supposed it would probably be best to change out of her lab wear and into something more appropriate for the gun range. Why she was allowing Alba to come along was a little harder to explain... Part of it was because she'd yet to meet anyone with whom she could converse on the island, and sending her away would be rude. The other reason...? Well, Orzel supposed she just liked the way Alba carried herself.

In an island full of serious scientists, with many of those scientists looking down on Orzel both figuratively and literally, this was the first encounter she'd had that wasn't outright unpleasant. Perhaps it'd even aid the Princess's creative mind if she added a little 'boisterousness' or 'pizzazz' to her daily routine. Already she was finding it infinitely easier to concentrate, and for that alone the girl owed her now compatriot a debt of gratitude... Unaware of Orzel's inner machinations, Alba followed Orzel out of the elevator, eying both guards with a mix of surprise and confusion. The Princess continued on at a steady pace, even as the girl lingered a couple steps behind.

"Wait... They know you up here?" Alba asked, Orzel nodded again... Was this what it felt like to be on the other side of her conversations with Midnight? "You work on weapons, so... Is there some sort of 'Doomsday Machine' up here you're working on?" Orzel actually burst out laughing at that, unable to constrain a smile as the two of them approached the floor's solitary doorway. Reining in her giggles, she simply shook her head.

"Nothing so fantastical... Yet..." The Princess stated with a tone of deadly seriousness, swiping her badge over the scanner. Alba briefly blanched, prompting Orzel to laugh once again. The magnetic locks disengaged, and with a hydraulic whine the door swung open. "I am joking, of course. As Equestrians are gifted with certain 'special talents', so too am I."

"In this instance, that special talent is the research of new technologies, particularly as they pertain to National Defense. As such, my relationship with the Equestrian Military is... Unique. There are a great many people that would also like to have me working for them, Equestria's enemies, so precautions must be taken to ensure my safety." Orzel explained, leading Alba inside her living room... "Welcome to my home... Such as it is." She added, with only the faintest hint of somberness.

Alba stepped in, looking around at the various pieces of nautical decor. Orzel was gradually making the space into more of a 'home', adding various bits of her own decor to that already provided. For example, she'd mounted several animal heads on the wall near the fire place, as well as a large wooden display case in which she stored several prototypes that hadn't quite made the cut.

She'd also produced a replica of what many considered the first gas operated machine gun, known as the 'Flapper Rifle', initially designed by the legendary gunsmith Double Aught. Essentially a lever-action rifle modified with a metal paddle that would be flung forward by the gasses exiting from the barrel, thus working the lever by way of a metal rod. It was this design that'd inspired the later development of the less than successful 'Spud Digger', so named because the lever tended to dig up the dirt beneath it if placed to low to the ground...

Orzel also had plans to create, or purchase, one of those weapons to add to her growing collection of firearms. Already the largest owned by any Princess, though really that wasn't saying much... She was the only Equestrian Princess that actually owned firearm. The majority of her collection, at least that which she'd built at Site R, resided in two large metal gun safes in her bedchamber. Everything from rifles to machine guns to semi-automatic pistols and revolvers, most of them were prototypes, others were simply pieces she'd built out of curiosity, to 'see if she could'...

Alba was certainly surprised to see what, to her, must've been an unparalleled arsenal in such a place of prominence, and Orzel got the feeling she wasn't exactly comfortable about them either... It was totally understandable. To Orzel they were just machines, tools to be used however their owner intended, but she understood many Equestrians didn't share that attitude.

"Never fear, they are not loaded." Orzel explained calmly as the door closed behind them. "As I said, I am a weapons researcher..." She added pointedly, pausing briefly to tuck a few strands of her hair back beneath her headscarf. "Please, make yourself comfortable. I will be back momentarily." She started towards her bed chamber, then froze. "As I said before, precautions must be taken for my safety. As such, there are several loaded firearms concealed throughout the residence. I do not expect you will find them, but on the off chance that you do, do not touch them... In fact, it would be wise to treat all firearms you may encounter as if they are loaded..." Alba bit her lower lip, then after a few moments nodded in acceptance.

With that, Orzel made her way into her bedchamber, ensuring she carried the rifle case and her satchel along with her. It took her about four minutes to change out of her laboratory clothes and into something a little more comfortable. CERPAT fatigue pants, combat boots, and a navy blue and white telnyashka, as were being issued to the Navy. She took a moment to regard herself in the bathroom mirror, inwardly preparing herself for what was to come...

As this telnyashka bore strong similarity to a standard tank top, it therefore lacked sleeves. As such, it was very easy to see the strips of glittering metallic scales that ran from top portion of Orzel's wrists up to her shoulder and neck. Her muscles and considerably dark bronze skin, likewise, were no longer concealed by the relative looseness of her sweater and lab coat. This would be the first time Orzel interacted with someone her own age in such a state, and so she was mentally preparing herself for whatever ridicule or shock might arise... Gently clasping the pendant that dangled around her neck, the Princess mumbled a brief prayer and straightened her headscarf.

Orzel emerged from her bedchamber with both bags still on her person, closing the door behind her as she made her way back into the living room. Alba stood before the weapons display case with arms crossed, her face set in a look of curious contemplation. She briefly looked over at Orzel, then did a slight double take, which prompted an inward sigh on the Princess's part.

"This is your house right?" Alba asked, quickly turning her attention back to the display. Orzel responded with an affirmative hum. "So why did you let me in? I'm just curious, since... Well, up until a couple minutes ago we didn't know each other." Orzel offered another shrug.

"Why did you choose to stay?" The Princess countered, earning a slight smirk on Alba's part.

"Because I've spent months trying to get up here? Even if it is just your house, I intend to see as much as I can..." She declared firmly, once again examining the displayed prototypes "Assuming you let me, of course." Orzel gave another affirmative hum, adjusting the strap of her rifle case. "Did you design all of these? I'd like to know more, otherwise I don't think anyone would believe me when I say I came up here."

"I designed all of these, except for that one." Orzel declared, gesturing to the replica Flapper Rifle. "Do not expect to find them on store shelves any time soon, these are my greatest failures." She added with a faint hint of pride, gesturing towards a shotgun. She'd intended for it to be fully automatic, and it was... For two or three rounds at a time. "On that one I failed to allow enough clearance in the action. To solve this problem I would need to redesign the entire bolt assembly." The Princess shrugged, regardless of the outcome, it'd nonetheless been informative.

"I would love to go into further details, but I actually do have work to be doing..." Orzel temporized, looking at the strap for the rifle case again... She really didn't like going to the range alone, but she wasn't about to drag Grim and Fable along with her. "I really should not be doing this, and bear in mind this is contingent on whether or not I can attain security clearance for you, but... I am about to run some tests, would you like to come with?" Alba turned with a raised eyebrow, as if to ask the question Orzel hadn't quite answered herself. 'Why?'... "I have few friends here, certainly none that are my own age... I am not presupposing that we are already friends, but there are few people with whom I can converse so easily." Alba brought a hand to her chin, rubbing curiously as she thought.

"I'll be honest... My Dad warned me to stay away from you." The blonde stated cautiously, briefly earning another inward sigh from the Princess. However, Alba's tone was suddenly betrayed by a wide smile. "Normally I think 'test' and all I think is boring stuff, but I get the feeling this isn't the sort of test conducted in a normal lab... Is it gonna be fun?" Orzel looked up and to the side, inwardly contemplating whether or not dumping magazine after magazine into various armored plates would be fun or not. She determined that it indeed would be very fun, and so offered an emphatic nod. "Alright, I'm in!"

From there the two soon departed, briefly stopping aside so that Orzel could consult Grim and Fable on the topic of attaining a security clearance for Alba. They explained that they couldn't very well grant that sort of thing to a civilian, especially a teenager, unless said civilian was the employee of a defense contractor working on behalf of the government. So, Orzel simply offered to hire Alba as a new 'administrative assistant'.

Alba, having never actually had a job before, gleefully accepted when she was informed of the generous basic hourly wage offered by BDT. The fact that it'd probably annoy the Tartarus out of her father was also a contributing factor. Orzel preferred not to get involved in the matter of her new friend's relationship with her parents, that was purely their affair... That being said, the girl could certainly sympathize, to an extent. The Princess's relationship with her father was far less contentious as Alba's, but she would've been lying if she said there were times when she hadn't done something just for the sake of driving him crazy. They were just fewer and further between.

With that sorted out, Grim and Fable agreed that there was little chance of Alba being an 'infiltrator'. Also taking into account her Father's security level, and the fact that Orzel would make few friends on the island if she kept everything about herself and her work a secret, the two behemoths issued a Special Probationary Basic Security Clearance card. The VRX wasn't as sensitive a piece of equipment as Project Gungnir, which required an Ultra High Security Clearance to even know about...

From there, Orzel and Alba made their way to the firing range situated in the 'Military Personnel Only' section of the complex. The latter gawked at just about everything they passed, as this entire section of the island was new to her. Orzel had to make a point to Alba that whatever she saw in this part of the island was to remain a secret. No matter how cool or exciting she might've found things, she couldn't tell anyone without a Security Clearance card equal to or greater than her own.

What was to follow at the firing range would be the beginning of Orzel's second friendship, one that she hoped would last a long time. She was sure to walk Alba through all the rules and safety precautions several times, even though at no point did Orzel intend to allow the girl to actually manipulate a loaded firearm. It would, however, afford her an opportunity to see how quickly a relative layman could familiarize themselves with the firing procedure of the VRX, even if no actual rounds were in the magazine.

Thankfully it seemed Alba had little interest in actually using the weapon at first, though she appeared more intrigued as time went on. Orzel still insisted that she wouldn't allow her friend to operate any weapons without first receiving written or verbal permission from her parents... Fun as she might've found them, the fact remained that firearms were not, and never would be, toys. Again, Orzel was thankful that Alba understood as much...

Where things went from then on was up in the air, but the Princess was hopeful she'd finally found another person she could consider a friend. With any luck, nothing would arise to ruin the day...

Regent-General Pharynx stood quietly in his quarters, once again observing the map of Equestria that dominated its center, as if staring at it would somehow inspire him to some great epiphany. Ruling the hive in its day-to-day had been a slight adjustment from his usual method of command, much of the work had already been delegated, but it was still a hassle he would happily return to the Queen when all was said and done. The Queen's health was improving, now that she could focus her attention fully upon the hive-mind, but there was no telling if she would ever recover so long as the source of the 'unknown presence' was concealed.

Thankfully, there seemed to be some progress on that front, courtesy of one of his deep cover assets in Canterlot, situated highly on the Castle Staff. They'd uncovered some gossip among the guards and the Cleaning Staff regarding the night that Princess Orzel had apparently arrived to Equestria. It couldn't be a coincidence that her arrival had come on the very same night Queen Tempo first encountered the maddening 'things that should not be'. The asset had likewise revealed that the Princess's biological Mother had died after arriving to Equestria, having been killed by strange creatures that the Equestrian Military had been quick to cover up.

Those creatures were spirited away to a highly secretive facility in the middle of Canterlot, where agents had struggled to get close without arousing suspicion. Regardless, one or two sympathetic 'fellow travelers' in that facility had been kind enough to give a glimpse into a top secret medical report. A report that concluded the 'Strange Creatures' were 'Exo-Changelings'...

There were several possibilities raised by that revelation, and none of them would result in a speedy end to the Queen's problem. The first theory was that Princess Orzel herself was somehow responsible for the interference. Like the Exo-Changelings, she was a creature born of a different world. Even if the Equestrians claimed she was a dragon, there was no telling what effect her presence might have on the hive-mind.

Pharynx personally didn't see how such a thing could be possible, and Chrysalis herself found the theory laughable, at least when she was capable of laughing in a manner that wasn't maniacal. She described the intruding presence as "smelling" of chemicals like formaldehyde and other preservative agents, coupled with tobacco smoke. That presented the second theory, that the Equestrians had captured whatever was responsible and taken it to parts unknown.

Whether it was the corpse of Princess Orzel's Mother, or the mysterious 'Exo-Changelings' responsible for her death, remained to be determined. Chrysalis seemed to believe it was the latter, and once again Pharynx was inclined to agree, given how the Queen had described 'plunging her talons' into the chest of a woman dressed in bronze armor. She had done no such thing in reality, but the memory of the event was apparently so vivid that it may as well have been her own hand.

It also presented a frightening prospect, the kind that gave Pharynx nightmares... If the creature's were already 'dead', and somehow still asserting control on the hive-mind, what would it take to put an end to that control.

His particular hive was far enough removed from the 'First Hive' that it would see little ill effect, but what of the other, older, hives? What if it was affecting more than just the Queens of those hives? That was the reason Pharynx was still building his army, why he still ordered his infiltrators to put themselves at risk in Equestria. Not just to keep an eye on the activities of the Equestrian military or to gather information about their new technologies, but also working to find other infiltrators.

Standing orders were to make contact with any infiltrators encountered from other hives and urge them to have their Queen's make contact with Pharynx. If that failed to work... The orders placed averting a war between Equestria and the Badlands Hive above anything else. He couldn't go to the Equestrians directly, not yet at least, not unless it was an emergency. Odds were they wouldn't believe him, and any public arrest of one of his agents would scare other infiltrators into hiding, making contacting the other hives all the more difficult...

Yet things might spin irrevocably out of control if he waited too long. Once again, their fellow traveler in the Equestrian's secretive paranormal investigation agency known as 'SMILE', revealed that apparently there were already other large scale operations attributed to 'Shape-Shifters' underway. An incident of apparent air piracy, for example, and rumblings about plans to sabotage Equestrian roads, telephone and telegraph communications wires, even railway lines, indicated that whatever Hive was responsible, their actions seemed aimed more at wreaking havoc than anything else. Once again, should it come down to war between Equestria and the Badlands Hive, that would undoubtedly result in punic actions... Maybe it was time to re-adjust his strategy after all.

"Thorax." Pharynx called over his shoulder, a few moments later the door to the chamber opened, and through it entered his younger brother. Pharynx turned and crossed his arms over the numerous medals lining the breast of his uniform, nodding to the younger man as his aide-de-camp rose from his customary bow of greeting. "I require your counsel..." Pharynx pointed at the map, specifically Canterlot. "You studied diplomacy more extensively with Queen Tempo. Were you in my place, how and when would you approach the Equestrians?" Thorax drew closer to the table, taking on the aspect of deep reflection.

"I would first seek the contact of the other hives, and determine if they are suffering the same issue plaguing us." The younger man stated simply, clasping his hands behind his back. "I would perhaps see if some sort of cooperation can be reached, and together we can solve the crisis without involving the Equestrians." Pharynx nodded, that had been his plan from the start, though he could see the gears still turning in his brother's head. "If it becomes apparent that one or many of the hives are infected with this... Madness... We may have little choice but to alert the Equestrians. As I recall, there are some twenty or so hives that we know of, you've only contacted the agents of five." Thorax's features hardened in a manner Pharynx wasn't accustomed to.

"I have a discouraging feeling that even if we managed to contact them all, there are some Queens that would use this opportunity to invade and occupy our own people, just as surely as we would've invaded the Equestrians." Thorax continued, Pharynx nodded again, though that hadn't been an aspect he'd thought of. Wars between hives were exceptionally uncommon, with the exception of one.

"The overwhelming majority should remain uninvolved, even if their Queen's have succumb to madness." Pharynx theorized, pacing around the edge of the map, his lips curled downwards in a thoughtful frown. "They'll be caught up in their own internal power struggles, or hurrying to find someone to take the reins of leadership, as our own Queen did with me." His eyes narrowed on the Eastern portion of the map, specifically a small portion of the Griffon Empire barely visible there. It was filled with numerous tall mountains, as with most Griffon territorial holdings, but they were placed remarkably near one of the only hives with a general known location. "The Hive of Mount Grover, however, may not even realize there is a crisis to begin with." Thorax pondered that momentarily, then shivered.

"You don't mean...?" The aid muttered, his eyes also falling on the mountains. "It is true, then? The First Ones really do exist?" Pharynx nodded, and he himself couldn't restrain a shudder of disquieted unease.

It was the fault of the Queen Martialis, the First Queen of the First Hive, that Changelings were so universally despised and reviled with such a violent passion. It was a little known history, one of the few pieces of information that most members of the hive seldom learned. Nonetheless, the history of the First Hive, and the ancient 'Deal' it'd struck, was required reading for all high-ranking Generals. Someone had to know what they were up against, in the frightening event that the disturbingly odd swarm of Mount Grover ever darkened the skies over the Badlands.

They were practitioners of dark rites, that preyed just as much on other Changelings as they did other species... Nothing was beneath them. They took more than emotion from their prey, so much more... Pharynx's thoughts returned to some of the things he'd heard the Queen mention, an overwhelming desire to kill, to consume, to sate a ravenous hunger.

"If you encounter agents of their hive in Equestria, there can be no hesitation..." Thorax stated bluntly, taking as serious a tone as Pharynx had ever heard from him. "They must be eliminated."

"I fear it is already too late. Already their schemes are driving Equestria's military to increase its readiness." Pharynx admitted, bowing his head as he leaned on the table. "The more I ponder the source of the Queen's madness, the more I think about that night Princess Orzel came to this world. You read of it in the captured newspaper, did you not? When it was revealed she was not of this world?" Thorax hummed in agreement, examining the map with equal unease.

"Her people departed this world long ago, only to return by some sort of freak accident of magic. Who is to say that hers weren't the only ones to do so?" The General looked at Thorax, searching his brother's face for a sense of comprehension. He was pleased to see that to be the case. "What if some ancient ancestor of the First Hive is to blame for this crisis? What if the 'dead' continue to speak because they have found a more than willing ear, beyond the mind of our Queen?" He and Thorax shivered in tandem as the words left his lips.

"Then all we can do is prepare for the worst." Thorax stated with obvious notes of fear, though to his credit he was outwardly collected and calm. "I would still advise caution before speaking with the Equestrians, allow our army to increase in size as originally planned. At the very least, we will have ample force to defend ourselves if they fail to see our side."

Pharynx nodded silently, eyes lingering on the otherwise unassuming mountain. There was little he could do but hope the First Hive didn't indulge their baser instincts before a solution could be found. Even a small attack, against the most insignificant Equestrian outpost, could very well invite their terrible wrath...

Though there was a considerable chill in the air, the northern waters of the wide open Celestia Ocean's face was as calm and placid as a mountain lake, almost mirror smooth. Seldom did such mornings arise here along the North Bugbear Coast, and it was a crying shame that the sea need be disturbed. Already the morning had seen the arrival of half a dozen fishing boats, based in the Northern Griffon fishing village of Kaltwasser Harbor. They weren't alone, however, with a much larger neighbor now tracing a slow steady wake through the dawn's lingering calm. The lone bulk carrier, 'CS Aleksa', worked her way along a south-westerly course... Her hold was laden with heavy iron ore, her destination the Equestrian city of Baltimare, her primarily Thestral crew eager to reach warmer waters and their extended families in that far flung port.

Aleksa was new to these waters, having been purchased by the 'Castile Shipping Company', an equally new shipping firm based out of the Northern Griffon provinces. Nonetheless, she'd made quite a name for herself. Her Captain, an old salt expat Equestrian by the name of Downeaster, had made his bones hauling raw gold ore all along the Griffon Coast. Like Aleksa herself, he was hardworking, hard-bitten, and tough-as-nails... At least, that was how he came off to his crew.

For Nor'Easter, a young fisherman aboard one of the ubiquitous fishing boats within sight of the plodding steamer, that was only the beginning. Nor'Easter was just as hard working and tough as his father demanded he be, though life hadn't 'whipped him hard enough' to make him quite so hard-bitten. His father had never been one to mince words. That said, Nor'Easter couldn't help watching Aleksa with excitement whenever she made her run... It'd mean his Old Man would be out of his hair for a month or two at least, hopefully more.

There were lines that needed hauling in, so Nor'Easter tore his eyes away from Aleksa and set once more to work. With his eyes on the sea, he pulled and pulled and pulled foot after waterlogged foot of rope from the briny depths. The water was just above freezing, and even his heavy work gloves struggled to keep his fingers from going numb. It was laborious monotonous work, but it paid about well as one could expect in the Griffon economy, and that was all Nor'Easter really cared about.

The more money he could squirrel away while his father was away, the sooner he could book passage on the next freighter bound for the warmer climate of Zebrica. He could only ever make progress when the bastard was away from home, as that was about the only time Nor'Easter held onto his earnings longer than the amount of time it took for Downeaster drink them all away... The young man's hope was to sign on with one of the Mercenary Companies operating there, they were bound to pay better.

Nor'Easter would do practically anything to get out of the Griffon Empire, especially with everything that'd been going on of late. The Empire, for all he cared, could rot. So could the 'Iron Bloods' that everyone seemed so intent to fawn over. It wasn't like the Iron Bloods were ever actually going to do anything, and neither would the Empire. It'd just be more of the same... All the screeching and shouting, just noise, and Nor'Easter could hardly stand it any longer...

Yanking hard on the line, the last thing the young man expected was for it to yank back. Indeed, as soon as he tugged it pulled with such force that it nearly toppled him over the side. His nearly numb fingers, in remarkable twist of luck, were what saved him. Allowing the rope to slip through his hands and over the side, rapidly uncoiling itself with a speed Nor'Easter had only ever seen of a falling anchor line. It ended just as quickly as it started, and the man quickly gathered himself and began pulling the line back in.

A stream of white bubbles was rising in a straight line, a few feet away from the side of the boat, though now it appeared to be curving off in another direction. Two other identical lines of bubbles also emerged, though this remained perfectly straight... Tracing them with his eyes, he could see the source of whatever they were moving to converge with the path of Aleksa. The end of the line came up far more quickly than Nor'Easter imagined, though it soon became obvious this wasn't the actual end... Were that the case, he would've found several lobster traps. Instead he found the line severed and frayed, as if it'd been cut by a blade... Or several, rotating in opposite directions.

Looking between the rope, the line of bubbles, and the steadily moving cargo ship, Nor'Easter's brow furrowed. He'd had a reputation for not being the most particularly bright bulb, so it usually took him a bit more time to figure things out. The rest of the men aboard the fishing boat seemed to take note of the severed line, then a distant thunderous 'Whump!'. The young man turned to the source, spotting a column of water erupting from wherever what'd caused the line of bubbles had curved off to. Explosion... Bubbles... Straight line... Cargo ship... Several more seconds passed, at which point his eyes widened. Was it a fish? With scissors? Some sort of suicidal scissor fish?

Two massive explosions once again split the morning calm, sending two gigantic columns of white water hurtling up along the starboard side of Aleksa. The massive bulk carrier rose up in the center while her bow and stern dipped lower, that was something Nor'Easter had no problem recognizing. Whatever the cause, the ship had just broken her back. The cascading water fell back to the sea, revealing that Aleksa was quickly settling low in the water.

Her amidships deck-house crumpled in on itself, the stern and bow now rising out of the water... The single brass screw at her rear churned uselessly against the air. For a few moments Aleksa's respective ends rose skywards, as if suspended by cables from the heavens, all while the crew visible on her deck commenced to running around like mad... At least until they started sliding towards the buckling center. In that moment a single word barged to the forefront of his mind, a word that almost every fisherman in Kaltwasser Harbor had learned to fear and dread... 'Submarine'.

The rumor was that the Empire had sold off several of its submarines to pirates, though Nor'Easter had never really bought that. Even to him, it didn't make sense... Why would pirates want to sink ships with a submarine? How would they steal the cargo if it was on the bottom of the ocean? Nonetheless, there was a very real fear that the pirates, the Iron Bloods, or maybe even the Griffon Navy itself was behind recent sinkings.

Nor'Easter felt a plunging sensation in his gut as Aleksa stopped crumpling inward, but instead hung motionless... Realization was dawning, that was his father's ship... For some reason, he didn't feel any of the anxiety or fear he would've expected. There was tension, certainly, but nothing else. If anything, the anticipation was electric. Eventually there came a point where Aleksa could no longer sustain the strain, and with an audible metallic death groan the aged ship snapped in half. In less than thirty seconds, the ship and her heavy cargo of iron ore slipped beneath the surface. Her crew hurled themselves into the sea on the way down, swimming for all they were worth in a desperate attempt to escape a watery grave.

Already the fishing boats had disengaged from their work, their engines roaring as they rapidly whipped around towards a field of surfacing debris, drowned bodies, shivering survivors, and a glowing inky black oil slick. Nor'Easter stood transfixed, but as the ship moved around he caught sight of something else. A pitch black metallic shape rising from the surface, water cascading off of it in white rivulets of foam. It was the conning tower at first, then the entire main body, of a submarine.

The tower was adorned with a large decorative shield, depicting a fearsome emblem of the Emperor's royal house, leaving little doubt as to its origins. Were that not enough, its crew was rushing out on deck, and from the conning tower they hoisted the unmistakable ensign of the Imperial Griffon Navy. The submarine lingered on the ocean's surface for ten or fifteen minutes, just long enough for everyone to agree that they should give it a wide berth, before slipping beneath the waves just as abruptly as it had emerged.

When all was totaled, Aleksa went down with fifty-seven of her eighty man complement. Captain Downeaster, it was said, had given the order to abandon ship, but himself had gone down with his command. There wasn't a family in Kaltwasser Harbor that wasn't affected in some way, with many losing husbands, fathers, brothers, and sons... The Empire of course denied having had anything to do with the sinking, but of course they would say that. It was obvious they weren't pleased to have to now allow the Northern Provinces to trade on their own accord, this was likely just a means of trying to keep their people dependent on them.

Nor'Easter's indifference to the dealings of the Empire and the Iron Bloods ended that day... Much as he and his Father despised one another, Downeaster was still his Father, and that still counted for something. It was only a matter of hours before the first 'Local Peacekeeping Militia' was formed, all while portraits of the Emperor were torn from buildings and cast into a bonfire started at the town's center. It was on this same bonfire that Imperial flags and other paraphernalia were thrown. Those that resisted or dissented, few in number as they were, were shouted down by throngs of furious, angry, emotional people. Nor'Easter was certainly among those throngs.

In place of Imperial flags, and lacking access to the 'Iron Blood Flag', the largely Thestral population of Kaltwasser elected to raise dozens of 'Bi-colors', the twin-tone banners of the Thestral Imperium banners, in their stead. A navy blue field, with two horizontal strips of white, one at the top and the other at the bottom. At the center of blue field, offset slightly towards the hoist, was white two-headed bat with wings spread wide, perched atop a shield displaying the coat of arms of Empress Aurora, Mother of the Imperium and of the current 'reigning' Empress. The flags were typically kept on hand for various local holidays that honored Aurora and the thestrals that once served her, and had not held anything more than sentimental meaning for as long as anyone had been alive.

The words 'retribution' and 'separatism' themselves went unspoken, but there was nonetheless a rising tension in the air... If such crimes continued on the part of the Imperial Navy, it wouldn't be long before all of the North called for war. When news of the loss of so many Thestrals reached across the ocean, their ancestral brothers and sisters in Equestria would undoubtedly cry out for vengeance.

Wiping some sweat from his forehead, Spike paused for a moment to bask in the warmth of the late spring sun. The temperature was ramping up to summer, and with summer came the very real risk of wildfires. This was the first year where the Old Guard claimed they were actually supposed to get a decent budget for wildfire prevention, but much of that money had been 're-appropriated' by the City Parks Office for... Well, it wasn't exactly clear what. That'd left a great gaping whole in the FDPV's budget, so the entire department had taken it upon itself to make up the shortfall. Spike had already placed a call to Mister Gaze, the man Orzel had instructed to look after her considerable estate in her absence.

Mister Gaze had been all too eager to contributed a sum of some one-hundred thousand Bits on behalf of Crown-Princess Orzel herself, plus another hundred-thousand on behalf of Basilisk Defense Technologies. Both donations had raised the perceived reputation of their respective sources in Ponyville... Additionally, Assistant Chief Rich and other members of the FDPV had added sizable chunks of their own personal money to the proverbial hat. With the mayoral election just a few short days away, the news about the Department's budget and Rich's donation was not doing Mayor Mare any favors in the polls.

Sizable as these donations had been, however, the fact remained that there was still a very good chance the department would come up short. So, the FDPV and its parent, the CDA, had organized a joint fundraiser in the form of 'Civil Defense Awareness Day', which included a large cookout, live entertainment, a raffle, and several helpful and informative exhibits about how the common citizen could contribute to Equestria's continued Civil Defense. Spike actually rather liked the concept, not just because it stood to potentially make up their budget shortfall, but also because it'd brought a lot of people together that, previously, had been divided by the election.

Spike would've been equally excited to take part in the festivities, were he not there to demonstrate the various tools used by the 'Modern Firefighter'. One wouldn't be wrong for thinking it was a fairly easy job, except that it involved him repeatedly having to get in and out of his full bunker gear for a portion of each subsequent demonstration. The first ten times had been easy, but by late afternoon he found himself flagging, even with his enhanced endurance. In hindsight, perhaps that was the reason Macintosh chose him to do the job.

Right now they were between demonstrations, and so the young man had taken the opportunity to take a seat on one of the steps running along Engine One's cab. His russet brown jacket rested off to the side, his telnyashka drenched with sweat, and he himself was alternating between drinking plenty of water and occasionally eying the various patches of purple scales that'd been cropping up in greater numbers along his arms of late. Every now and then he'd stop to idly stroke his slightly stubbly chin. Lately, keeping himself clean shaven was becoming quite bothersome, though he used the term 'shave' loosely, considering it required literal power tools. He'd wake up at zero-five-hundred to get ready, shower, shaved, dressed... By the end of the morning he'd need to shave again, and then again at the end of his shift.

"Maybe I should try waxing it..." He mused aloud to himself, turning his attention more to the ongoing festivities. The fundraiser was taking place near town square, equidistant from the hospital, police department, and fire station. As such, there was no shortage of friendly faces, many of whom strolled past with a wave, a smile, or both. The air was sweet, the mood was calm, so... Why wasn't he? Deep down, for some reason he couldn't quite place, he had a pit forming in his stomach, the very same pit he'd had a month ago...

"Hey, Spike!" A familiar twangy voice called from his right, shaking him out of his reverie. He turned his head towards the source and paused for a moment, there stood Applebloom, Scootaloo, and Sweetie Belle... The Cutie Mark Crusaders, whom he'd seen only the night before at their last O&O game. They were dressed for the warm weather as much as they were for the festive atmosphere, each managing to wear attire that complemented their appearance well, in a wholesome sort of way. The trio stood on the sidewalk of the town's square, just at the edge of the shadow cast by Engine One. "Workin' hard, or hardly workin'?" Applebloom continued, it was a line she used whenever she stopped by of late, adding a friendly smirk to that fluttery twang of hers. Spike shrugged, standing to his new lofty height of seven and a half feet.

"I'm certainly getting a work out, if that's what you mean." The young man responded as he straightened his telnyashka. A brief breeze reminded of the fact that while it was still warm, the coming arrival of evening would bring with it a moderate chill. That hadn't been as much of a problem lately, ever since those first patches of purple scales had started appearing on his forearms. "You here to see the Chief? He's working the barbecue." The young man jerked a thumb towards the station house, outside of which sat a fairly large smoker which filled the air with the remarkably tasty scent of brisket.

Typically Applebloom stopped by the station every day to drop off Big Mac's lunch, even if the Chief already had lunch, as was very much likely the case given his current job. It was nice to see his friend cared so much about her brother. Today, however, Spike noticed that she'd come empty handed, and accompanied by her friends as well... Odd, but not unusual given the entire town had turned out to partake. Sweetie and Scootaloo looked at one another, then quietly nudged Applebloom.

"Oh, uh, no... We're not here to see him, I-... We just wanted to come see you, actually." The girl said somewhat shakily, and for a few moments the young man was struck by the profoundest sense of Deja Vu. The mannerisms were different with Applebloom, but as he'd become quite adept at reading Orzel, and reading his friend was a far simpler task. She was nervous about something, though he didn't know what. "We were actually going to head on over to Sugar Cube Corner for a snack, and thought it might be nice to come pick you up for a surprise cupcake, so... Surprise!"

Taking in the scene as a whole, he noted the awkwardness Applebloom spoke with, atypical to her usual blunt manner... Sweetie and Scootaloo likewise looked more serious than usual, though not angry... More protective, possibly supportive, he might've even guessed she was there for moral reassurance... That begged the question, for what possible reason could Applebloom need that reassurance...? She was probably one of the most self-confident girls he knew. All of these thoughts transpired in a moment, and Spike had to ask himself that age old question, a question Big Mac assured him all men faced at least one time in their lives. Was she just being nice to him, or was she trying to flirt with him?

Honestly, he wasn't sure how to respond if it proved to be the latter. He didn't really have those sorts of feelings for the members of the CMC, they were more like 'sisters' to him, and it'd just be a little too... Weird. Besides, he already had something going with Orzel. Sure it was long distance, but that wasn't as big of an issue given recent developments. In fact, Spike trusted Orzel's commitment to that relationship was as strong as her commitment to basically anything else she did, which was to say 'Absolute'.

Then again, Applebloom didn't know Spike was in a committed relationship... He'd never actually told anyone that he and the Princess had feelings for one another, outside of Twilight of course, let alone how serious those feelings were becoming. Still, Spike wasn't about to get sucked into some weird 'love triangle' thing like out of one of his adventure novels... Those always ended with someone getting hurt, and somehow, someway, he'd come out looking like the bad guy.

"I'm actually just waiting for the next demonstration to begin, so I can't really run off." Spike offered honestly, he really was, and it wasn't like he could go running off willy nilly in the middle of his shift. Applebloom paused for a moment, visibly processing his response. Scootaloo and Sweetie glanced at one another, flinching slightly, evidently they hadn't thought about that. Applebloom's body language suggested that she'd been lightly wounded by his response.

"Don't get me wrong, I always appreciate the chance to hang out with my friends!" Spike added quickly, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. Applebloom was obviously shaken by the last word in his sentence, and he got the feeling there'd be a lot of... Awkwardness in his future. "Maybe after this next demonstration? It's supposed to be the last-"

Then, as if by the hand of fate itself, the universe intervened. From within the station came a trio of almost deafening wails from a buzzer alarm, which caused all three of the girls to take a step back. Spike's response, however, was to grab his fatigue jacket. Quickly donning it, he rushed to the display area and commenced to getting into his bunker gear, an act also carried out by the only other man assigned to the position. Within the open bay of Engine One, he could already see the other men on duty getting into their bunker gear, and those that'd been working other areas were running to get ready.

"Engine One. Engine Two. Engine Three. Ladder One. Tanker One. Respond to a mass casualty train derailment and fire on Provincial Road Thirty-One, Eastbound. Mile marker thirty-seven..." The dispatcher's voice was scratchy, but rang loud and clear through the entire station.

"Sorry! Gotta run!" Spike shouted to the girls over his shoulder as he moved. Without any further pause, he grabbed his flash hood from the display table, quickly pulling it over his head. Next, he stepped into his boots, which incidentally had his trousers already around the ankles. With practiced ease he pulled them up over his uniform pants, slipping the suspenders over his shoulders. The rest of the ensemble passed in a blur, jacket, air tank, respirator, helmet, and finally gloves. The majority of the outfit was russet brown, broken up by several orange 'High Visibility' stripes, while the helmet, gloves, and boots were black accented by orange.

Together, he and the other display operator moved the table out from the front of Engine One, then proceeded to place the equipment back aboard the vehicle with as much speed as possible. The other bay doors were rising steadily, and all throughout the building he could hear heavy diesel engines rumbling to life. Big Mac and Rich were already in the process of finishing getting ready when they neared Engine One themselves, all while a large crowd had amassed to watch the department roll out.

"Come on, kids! Let's go! Get the lead out!" Rich shouted emphatically, already climbing into the driver's seat while Big Macintosh took the passenger seat. Spike followed shortly, clamoring into the passenger cab where a trio of other firefighters had crammed themselves. "Dispatch reports it's a freight train hauling thirty twenty-thousand gallon tanker cars and a whole mess of other nasty stuff slammed head on into a passenger train that ran a signal. Contents of the tankers are unknown at this time, but at least two of them ruptured and the contents are definitely flammable. No word on the drivers of the trains, but local sheriff's are setting up a two mile cordon. They're asking for as many ambulances as they can get, so odds are this is going to get messy." The man explained as the engine started rolling forward onto the street, the lights flashing to life, followed by a high pitched wailing siren, not unlike that one might hear in an air raid.

The entire mood of the truck grew more serious at the mention of the passenger train... Up until that point, the worst thing most of them had ever seen was an airship wreck that'd happened a month or so ago, on roughly the same day as the automobile accident. The entire crew had been slain by what the police suspected to be sky pirates, and the ship's faintly hazardous cargo had lit the sky for miles. In that time they had seen other casualties and loss of life, but even the airship crash couldn't compare to something so massive as a passenger train derailment. Once again, it seemed Rich and Big Macintosh were better equipped for the heavier aspects of the job, but thankfully the younger members of the department had transitioned from 'New Bloods' to the 'New Guard', a means of distinguishing them from the various fresh recruits that still sought to join...

Even having become one of the New Guard, Spike realized that he'd need to prepare himself for the worst. It was bad enough that there would be so many dead or wounded, but the presence of burning tanker cars only made the situation that much more precarious. Not only because of the difficult nature of fighting such a massive fire, but because of a phenomenon known as a 'Boiling Liquid Expanding Vapor Explosion', or BLEVE...

BLEVEs as a result of derailments were becoming more of a rarity as rail safety regulations improved, but they were still a very real risk. When they did happen, they almost always tended to be bad for everyone involved. Massive fire balls, chunks of hot flaming debris, not to mention the potential for a shock wave which would shatter glass, or disintegrate houses to splinters... All of which could become deadly shrapnel in the maelstrom of fire that was a BLEVE.

Spike had never actually seen one outside of training, in that case it'd been a very small propane cylinder from a portable camping stove. The stories Big Macintosh told were nothing like that dinky little puff of fire, and were indeed harrowing enough to make Spike hope never to see a BLEVE in person. They could come with no warning, and throw debris countless miles away, depending on the size of the tank. The devastation they wrought was bad enough in its own right, but when coupled with a lot of the still dry grass and other underbrush in the area? Underbrush that should've, and would've, been taken care of by now were it not for a lack of funds... It was a recipe for a massive wildfire. This was it, the big game, the final fight with the evil wizard, the do-or-die scenario that set a CDA fire department apart from others.

Spike glanced out the window as the truck, and indeed the rest of the department, rolled noisily onto Mainstreet. Applebloom, Scootaloo, and Sweetie were all standing on the sidewalk, mere faces among a transfixed crowd, who all stood motionless to behold the unfolding scene... As far as the young man knew, none of the girls had ever seen the department deploy in full. The quintet of emergency vehicles surged through Ponyville, sirens shrieking, air horns blaring, engine's roaring... Vehicles moved swiftly out of the way, making room for the trucks to pass speedily along. Spike turned his attention to the other three men riding in the rear cab with him, all of whom were fiddling with or adjusting their respirators, and all of whom wore a familiar patch affixed to their shoulders.

The men riding with him were all earth-walkers or spell-casters, the portion of the department far better suited to attacking a fire from the ground. There weren't many pegasi in this line of work, and those that were didn't act as firefighters in a traditional sense. The bunker gear was too specialized to be adapted to protect their wings. Even if it could be, it was also too heavy for them to make effective use of said wings. As a result, those few pegasi that signed on were assigned the task of gathering clouds, which in turn could be used to keep a steady flow of water in the tanker truck. At the moment, Spike was in the presence of Ace Point, Maple Spicket, and Plowshare... They all looked more or less identical in their equipment, identifiable only from their general build and large Hi-Vis lettering on the lower back portions of their jackets.

Spike found them overall to be a bunch of good guys, each from different walks of life, who'd all managed to make it through training and the probationary period. Ace Point was typically a talkative guy, very physical, very high endurance, which Spike supposed came from his part time career as a professional tennis player. Maple Spicket owned the largest maple tree orchard in Central Equestria, and as such he was actually quite well off. He'd also given generously, which wasn't surprising. He'd joined the FDPV to give back to his community.

Plowshare, the man that'd been helping with the display, had been a farmer once upon a time, but a wildfire had swept across his land, and burned everything he owned to the ground. Spike didn't need to ask his reason for signing on. His frustration that the budget for wildfire prevention had been diverted to the CPO was... Difficult to accurately quantify.

Admittedly, the probationary period had been a tad rushed, but Ponyville was in desperate need of well equipped professional firefighters... This incident was proof enough. Had this happened before the department was in place, odds were the time to get any meaningful response to the site of the derailment would be close to an hour. Not a lot of people thought about the distances involved when it came to moving around a rural area, and the closest professional department prior to the FDPV resided in Coalwood, approximately thirty miles in the opposite direction.

Spike briefly considered starting a conversation among his comrades, but he could see they were all preparing themselves for whatever came next. Occasionally the truck would slow down to take a turn, but otherwise Rich kept the pedal down. So the young man turned his attention to the buildings rushing past, knowing deep down in his gut that today was another day where things would change forever. Within a few minutes he was driving past the library, preceded by a number of ambulances that'd probably been sent by Ponyville General.

Twilight was standing in the front door, just one face among dozens that'd paused in their days to watch the spectacle, and yet hers was so clear... Ashen white, jaw hanging ever so slightly, eyes wide. She had to know, just as Spike did, that this call was different. At their current rate of speed Twilight remained visible only for a few moments, then it was back to watching the buildings blur past.

Within two minutes they'd passed the eastern bridge at the outskirts of town, tearing along more of the freshly paved asphalt. Provincial Road 31 was a four lane thoroughfare, two lanes on either side, which only recently had been paved in order to keep up with its busy commercial nature. Running through the Ponyville Rail Hub, it tended to see a lot of eighteen-wheeler traffic, and the eastbound tracks ran more or less parallel to its entire length. Both the tracks and the road ran through mostly flat terrain, filled with groves of trees, fields, and even forests that were now lush with greenery in the wake of the spring thaw. There were only a few other towns along its route before it transitioned into a larger turnpike, the first of which was Rose Township...

Rose was a lot smaller than Ponyville, and as such lacked its own fire department, beyond a small volunteer force. They were certainly effective when combating the typical residential or occasional brush fires that came up, but hardly equipped to handle a disaster of the magnitude Rich had described. It used to be Coalwood's job to help them out, now the duty fell to Ponyville's department. A typical response time to that area, assuming no traffic, was somewhere in the order of twenty five minutes. Not great, but better than an hour and fifteen.

Spike's foot tapped restlessly on the floor, almost half an hour was a lot of time to think about things. For a few moments he wasn't quite sure if he was ready for this... All the death, all the destruction, could he handle it? Once again his mind turned stories Orzel had told him about the night she'd come to Equestria... The fires she described, an entire city ablaze, were all the more staggering to imagine now that he'd become a firefighter. A chill ran down his spine, his doubts nearly getting the better of him... What would he have done were he called to fight the Cesarski fire? If he'd known Orzel was in that city, would he run away? What if he hadn't been able to go in, would he want one of her rescuers to chicken out at the last minute? No... No, he'd stand and fight... Like a dragon.

He would do what he had to do, as if Orzel was the one in peril, because she was the person that mattered to him most. She had become, for all intents and purposes, a part of his hoard... At least, in the sense that she was precious to him. How many other people's 'Orzels' could he save? How many wouldn't have to lose the one that mattered to them most of all. He needed to do his job, no matter the cost to himself.

Midway through the ride was when Big Macintosh began relaying his plan for when they arrived over the radio, a rather bulky set that'd come installed in the truck. The primary mission of Engine 1 and Engine 3 would be to fight the passenger cars already fully involved, as well as any fires that immediately threatened the rescue efforts of the RVFD. Ladder 1 and Engine 2 would assist in the evacuation, and Tanker 1 would keep all the vehicles supplied with water as usual, at least until another tanker loaded with fire retardant foam could arrive.

They would do whatever they could to rescue as many people as possible, but the unknown nature of the cargo in the tankers meant that so long as the fires raged close to the undamaged tankers they'd have to minimize the time they spent within the cordon. It seemed bizarre, to just sit idly by and let the fire burn, but each tanker car was potentially a twenty-thousand gallon bomb, and there were evidently thirty of them. The other cars in the freight train likewise contained an unknown cargo, other than it was 'Nasty Stuff', to quote Rich. That could be anything from toxic waste to dynamite, so Spike certainly understood the reasoning behind the cautious approach.

It wasn't long before Spike could see a massive cloud of choking dingy smoke rising from the horizon, stretching higher and higher into the otherwise clear late afternoon sky with each passing minute. Rose Township was just coming up, but already Spike could see a number of cars driving in the opposite direction. Others were galloping away on horseback, obviously the Sheriff of Rose had warned his citizens it was time to scatter. The road into town was blocked by a lone police cruiser, though it was quickly moved out of the way to allow the firetrucks passage.

The town passed just as quickly as it came, a small collection of maybe a dozen buildings, none of which went higher than two stories. All made from wood or brick, much like those in Ponyville, except these seemed different, somehow... Frail, defenseless, exposed... Spike couldn't quite explain why he felt that way. Maybe they just seemed so quaint that he couldn't foresee them surviving in the event the worst came to pass... Either way, it was his job to ensure that didn't happen.

Spike got his first look at the wreck just as the truck passed through Rose, even slightly concealed by a now burning grove of deciduous trees. Several ambulances were lined up in a row a hundred yards away from the trees, set up in an area not obstructed by burning debris or smashed rolling stock. All of which had their crew attending to someone, and it was here that the other ambulances pulled off to assist...

Most of the wounded were bloody or bruised, others miraculously looked shaken but no worse for wear. There was a section beyond the edge of the road where the dead that'd been pulled out of the wreckage were being gathered... Their mangled and burned corpses looked more like Nightmare Night decorations than actual people, but... They were actual people... Actual dead people. Men, women... Children... Some of them were all accounted for, others were missing pieces... Spike forced himself to look away, to focus on the task at hand.

Of the wreckage, he saw only the trees and the smoke at first, but his attention was quickly drawn to the rusted train tracks running on an embankment alongside the road. There he saw half a dozen box cars, which had smashed and folded in on one another like some giant metal accordion. Large wooden crates and metal drums lay strewn about the grass, or scattered across the road, most of the latter having been ruptured in some fashion to reveal a thick greenish-black sludge that pooled around them... Worryingly, each was marked with an Arcane Radiation Hazard placard.

The trucks needed to slow down at this point, navigating the debris congested roadway with greater caution... Spike peered out the window at one of the crates, hoping to gain some insight into its contents. One of the crates had strewn small cylinders of what looked like powdered coffee creamer, many of which were also cracked open, spilling their powdery white contents across the pavement. Either way, both the crates and the barrels bore a bright red skull and crossbones, as well as bold red lettering that read 'CAUTION! HAZARDOUS MATERIAL! POTENTIALLY FLAMMABLE CONTENTS!'.

When most people thought about powdered creamer, it was hard to imagine it could do much damage... On its own, that was true, but under the right conditions the substance could be almost as dangerous as gasoline. At this point the sirens were turned off, seeing as they were no longer necessary, leaving the rumble of the truck's engines and crackling of burning timbers as the only sound to accompany the eerie scene. There were more wrecked freight cars, with equally unusual cargo. What looked like brand new automobiles, disinfectant gel, even hair pomade, not to mention half a dozen overturned coke cars. The small, porous, dark gray fragments of fuel were scattered everywhere. Some of them were already burning, cloaking the area in a dull grayish white haze.

Then came the blue painted tanker cars, by far the most numerous of the rolling stock. Like the other cars, they too had folded together into one jumbled mass of steel. Each bore the logo for 'Arquerite Chemicals', which only served to add to the tension. Had they belonged to some sort of petroleum company it might've given some clue as to their contents, but with chemical companies it was almost impossible to tell just by looking. They'd need to wait for the shipping company to supply a manifest before they'd know for sure. Given the presence of potentially radioactive materials, Spike almost wished it was an oil fire.

The brigade of firefighters came upon the collision site after maybe five minutes passing the wreckage of the freight train's derailed cars, where a large fire was already in the process of being fought by the local volunteers. The blaze was fed by the fuel that each locomotive had been carrying. In the case of the passenger train, it was several tons of coal. In the case of the freight train, it was fuel oil, both of which had been widely dispersed at impact. The smoke was so thick and heavy here that it blotted out the sun at this close range, pulsating and billowing, as if to conceal some great and terrible demon hiding within.

The two burning tanker cars were situated directly adjacent to the impact site, contributing most of the black smoke to the rising pyre. A sensation of profoundest dread overtook Spike, because the flames that wreathed the tankers were bright neon green, almost identical in color to those that'd been fought aboard the crashed airship. If these tankers were hauling Unstable Sokolite, or even the ingredients required to make the compound, it might very well have been too late to stop an explosion.

The freight train was evidently being pulled by two large steam locomotives, while the passenger train had been pulled by a single smaller model. The two trains slammed into each other at such a velocity that the once mighty machines had become little more than twisted masses of steel and hot iron, the inferno consuming them gave each an almost draconic air. It was impossible for Spike to tell where one locomotive ended and another began, but from the sheer violence of the impact, it was clear to the young man that there were likely no survivors among the crew.

The combined flames of the locomotives and the tankers burned with such intensity that Spike could actually feel the heat from within the truck's cab... If only that was the only type of heat they had to worry about. On a hunch, the young man reached over to a compartment in the passenger cab and opened it, revealing a bright yellow Arc-Radiation Counter, marked with the emblem of the CDA. Grabbing the wand on the side, he turned the central knob and rolled his window down just a tad.

Poking the probe out through the cracked window, the silence of the cab found itself abruptly filled with a new heart-quickening sound. A slow by steady 'Tick... Tick... Tickety-Tick... Tick tick...' that seemed to suck the air out of the space. Spike quickly closed the window and turned in his seat to look up at Mac and Rich, both of whom had also heard the sound.

"I want one of you guys from each team to keep an eye on your radiation meters. Not you, Spike. Gonna need those muscles of yours. So long as it stays low, we'll stay as long as we can. If it starts going up, we're out of here in ten minutes." Rich ordered clearly, making sure to use the radio so that all those involved could hear him. "No one removes their respirator for anything..." He added with dire seriousness, then turned a knob on the radio. "Central, this is FDPV Ground Command, on site at the Rose Wreck. Be advised, it looks like the freight train was carrying material that's giving off low levels of Arcane Radiation."

"Not certain exactly as to what it is, but I'm gonna bet it's raw Incandessium and Enchantium, possibly mixed... Not to mention a large amount of Render..." Rich's tone was as calm and professional as ever, as if he was just ringing someone up at the Bargain Barn. 'Render' was the technical term for the semi-liquid sludge that remained after refining thaumatergic ores. Comprised of all the impurities that couldn't be processed through further refinement, it was probably the nastiest 'Nasty Stuff' a fire department could face. "I need you to dump every man you can on this scene, just in case this thing pops off. We'll also need De-Con units, and get the locals to widen the security cordon to..." The man paused, then looked at Macintosh, who merely held up his hand and clenched it twice. "Let's expand it to ten miles."

By now the truck was passing through the smoke, bringing the wreckage of the passenger train into view. Spike had never seen flames so large, it was a log jam had caught fire, and Spike counted at least five cars already fully involved. Smoke poured from every window... Spike tried to tell himself the carbonized twig-like shapes he saw dangling out of them were just pieces of wood, even though many looked suspiciously like bodies. Six other trucks weren't that far behind, with many of them threatening to go up at any moment.

Another truck from the local volunteers was struggling to keep the flames at bay, but to do so left little manpower to actually pick among the wreckage for survivors. The grass on either side of the road had also started up, adding more dense smoke to the conflagration, and couching the immediate vicinity in an eerie ethereal smog.

Struggling to stem the chaos were volunteer firefighters of Rose, though only two or three of them that could work on rescuing people, as the others were busy beating back the blaze. Frantically the rescuers pulled bleeding groaning bodies from the shattered wooden carriages, primarily those that were nearest to the flames. It was hard to imagine that half an hour ago his biggest worry was wondering if his friend, who also happened to be the sister of his boss, had a crush on him. Now...? Not so much.

Again he was struck by just how quickly one's day could change from fine to terrible. He was certain that the people aboard these trains had no idea of what was going to happen to them when they started their journey. It was been just as sudden for them as it was for Spike. It all very well have what could've been a page taken from a book about the deeper rungs of Tartarus, and it was his job to pull these people out of those hellacious flames... He and his fellows would be like ancient knights, rushing in to save the defenseless villagers, but... This was no fantasy.

The trucks pulled off into formation as Big Macintosh had ordered, each man preparing himself to do his job to the utmost. In a matter of moments Spike and the others were out of the cab and on the hard debris strewn asphalt. Most moved quickly around to the side to unspool hundreds of feet of hose, Spike included, while others began affixing the hose ends to a serious a valves mounted on the engine's side. Others were running lines in from the tanker truck.

"Let's get to work, grunts! Time to earn your pay!" Rich shouted as he hopped out of the driver's seat and closed the door with a heavy thud. Macintosh meanwhile was making his way over to a rather haggered looking volunteer, his typical relaxed posture now deadly serious beneath the respirator. Spike had to hand it to these guys... They didn't have nearly the equipment his department had, but they'd held their own all the same. "Get me hoses cooling the tanks closest to the fire as fast as you can! Really pour it on!" The Assistant Chief added, looking among the dismounting firefighters.

Most were fixated on their various assigned tasks in deploying, others were moving to deal with the rapidly escalating brush fire, but some... Well they were stunned, maybe even downright scared. Spike didn't blame them, he was terrified as well. Any moment those tankers could all go up, probably even start a massive wildfire, not to mention hurling tons of Render into the air. Then again, if the tankers did 'pop off', Spike and his compatriots wouldn't be around long enough to have to deal with the mess... Happy thoughts, Spike. Happy thoughts...

"I'm good to go!" Spike stated forcefully over his shoulder as he moved towards the sixth burning car with a nozzle at the ready, then knelt on the ground for better stability. His respirator was hissing steadily, even as his heart rate started to climb. He had to stay calm, had to keep a cool head. The hose suddenly stiffened in his grasp, glancing down he could see a faint trickle of water trailing from the end. Pulling back on the lever, he let forth the highly pressurized stream at the smoldering sixth car. Great plumes of hissing white steam arose wherever the water made contact, slowly driving back the gaining flames.

"That's good! That's good!" Another man, Emerald Green, shouted from beside him. He was one of the more senior members, though Spike didn't know all that much about him. It was all they could do to hear one another over the roaring flames and popping timbers... Perhaps Spike would need to write Orzel about potentially developing a means of communicating more easily, a smaller radio that they could all wear in their ears or something. That was a matter for another time, as Emerald pointed to a section of the passenger car which was already burning. "Aim for the base there, see?" Spike nodded, turning the hose on the area indicated.

For a good twenty minutes he aimed the hose as directed, managing to beat back a good deal of fire in the vicinity of the passenger car. It was enough to at least take the pressure off of many of the rescuers, now predominantly members of the RVFD that'd been able to back off from their primary fire fighting duties. Some were tentatively moving into other cars, though most of their efforts seemed focused on the eighth car. After a few minutes one of these men navigated his way through the debris, up towards Spike himself.

"You're the dragon, right?" The volunteer asked, a quick look at a patch on his jacket revealed his name to be Hasty Ladder. Spike gave another nod. "They want me to relieve you! Head over to that car over there, they can't get the door open and we're not gonna be able to keep the car from going up much longer!" The man ordered, pointing frantically at the eighth car.

"Roger that!" Spike agreed, smoothly passing the hose to the man, then rising from his knee and starting through the rubble strewn charred ground to the eighth car in the passenger train. In the course of doing so he passed dozens of pieces of debris... Shattered glass, smoldering timbers, a discarded boot... At least, it looked discarded until Spike spotted the jagged fragments of bone and flesh that jutted up past the ankle. He took a deep breath, set his jaw, and continued moving forward at a steady jog. All he could smell was the rubber of his respirator, and for that he was grateful.

Honestly, Spike didn't know how the volunteers had managed to stay so close for so long. He could feel the heat already, even with his bunker gear on... The sound was unlike any other fire he'd ever heard in all his days, a low howling wail, so loud he could feel it vibrating the air in his lungs. Somehow he managed to steady his nerves and continue on towards the rail car, which was starting to show signs of fire... Most passenger trains used gas or coal stoves for heating purposes... It was a miracle more cars weren't already involved, as beating back the flames with hoses would do little to prevent them from catching fire internally.

Four firefighters were pounding on the door, which looked to be made of reinforced steel. Looking at the side of the carriage revealed it to be a mail car, which meant it was also likely hauling a good amount of cash, so naturally it was likely built like a small fortress. A fire breaking out in there would be far worse than the other cars... All that paper would go up in one great big ball of flame, and its unusual protective steel plate would swiftly transform it into a furnace. The fire from the other cars was rising nearly a hundred feet into the air, whipping and thrashing wildly, flaunting its destructive power for all to see. That would be nothing compared to the mail car.

"Hey! Hey, I'm here to get this door open!" Spike shouted at one of the closest men, his voice barely audible over the snapping, crackling, roiling flames. The volunteer looked over, and Spike inwardly winced... His eyes were wide with panic behind his own respirator, as if he'd just about reached his limit. "Come on, man! Help's here now! I can handle the heat if it goes up! Get out of here!" The man glanced once more at the door, then reluctantly stepped back, making room for Spike to get up close. It seemed his arrival was having a similar effect elsewhere, turning back two other officers that'd all but had it.

Spike moved up to the door for himself, noting that it was not only reinforced, but also badly damaged. He could see a pair of frightened people standing just beyond it, there faces covered in soot, both of them dressed as mail clerks. Flames were flickering at the rear of the car, blossoming into much larger, much more intimidating sizes.

"Move back a couple steps, I need to bust this open!" Spike shouted at them, but he could tell they didn't want to get any closer to the flames than they already were. "Look at me, okay? Look at me!" He stated a bit more calmly, still needing to shout. "I will get you out of there, alright? Trust me!"

The two clerks looked at one another, biting their lips before scrambling a few steps back. Spike rolled his shoulders, then cracked his knuckles, limbering up for a few moments before taking hold of the door and pulling for all his worth. With a juttering metallic screech, the door easily lifted away in his hands, breaking away on its hinges and granting him access to the now smoldering interior of the mail car.

Casually casting the four-hundred pound steel reinforced door aside, he turned his attention back to the rescue. Every moment the fire was surging closer, his bunker gear growing all the hotter with every inch. Spike was fortunate not to be bothered by it, but he could only imagine the discomfort the other volunteers had been in, let alone the pain of those still trapped in the car itself.

With as much speed as he could muster he pulled the first clerk from the wreck, just as flames were beginning to consume the bags of mail within. Now he could see they were both women, and as such he had little trouble handing the first one off to the other waiting firefighters. He had to move quickly, the fire was springing forth with more vigor than he'd anticipated. The woman that remained inside very well could've been someone's mother, or a sister, or a wife... She was someone's daughter, if nothing else. He needed to get her out of there now, but she was just staring at him, unmoving. With no time to wait, Spike grabbed her by the wrists and pulled her free, turning his backs to the flames just as they filled the entire compartment.

Tossing the clerk to one of the waiting firefighters, Spike could see that she'd not escaped unscathed, with several nasty looking burns on her arms and exposed lower legs. Neither of the survivors had been directly touched by flame, but that didn't prevent them from sustaining injury... Another thing Spike had learned since becoming a firefighter was that fire didn't act as one might expect having watched movies. It didn't have to touch you in order to burn a person...

Heat radiating outwards could do just as much damage, unless something got in its way. So that's precisely what Spike did, putting himself between the still at-risk mail clerk and the yawning chasm of fire. The flames erupted around him with vicious fury, raging at him for denying them their prey, trying to consume him in her steady, but even as the jacket and trousers were coated in thick black soot, Spike would not submit. For all its terrible destructive power, this fire was but a tithe of what he could withstand.

Seeing that both women were now a safe distance from the car, Spike hopped out of the doorway. His bunker gear was slightly charred, but he and the others moved away from the mail car without injury... The flames from within were spreading to other uninvolved wreckage, and Spike could only pray that Emerald and the volunteer that'd taken his place could get the hose on it quickly enough, as there was little time to spare. Undoubtedly there were more people in need of help among the wreckage, so Spike and his cohorts split into groups of two in order to check the other cars. Accompanying him would be Maple Spicket...

Slamming easily through an already opened wooden door on the next carriage, he made his way through the next rail car in search of survivors. At this point they couldn't risk stopping to recover bodies, as doing so would take time they very likely didn't have. It was difficult to describe the sheer amount of blackness that could arise within the confines of a structure on fire, even if the sun weren't already on its way to meet the horizon

In a lot of ways, Spike suspected it might've been like deep see diving. Those that weren't properly trained could easily lose track of themselves, and become disoriented or lost... The thick black smoke enveloped him entirely, making it almost impossible to see, so he had to check for survivors by hand. Seat by seat, row by row, from forward to back... He would move in and attempt to find a pulse, no easy feat given his thick gloves... If that failed, he'd place a hand on their chest to see if they were still breathing. Any that he found to still be alive were passed off to Maple Spicket behind him, who would in turn ferry them outside to other rescuers, then come back in. Given the amount of smoke, and the sheer carnage of the impact, survivors at this stage were few in number...

Between the smoke, the heat, and the impact, he saw little sign of life. There were plenty of crumpled bodies, some of them having been smashed almost to the consistency of jelly, broken up by jagged fragments of white boon, all mixed in with discarded luggage that'd spilled from overhead compartments. Reaching the end of the car, Spike came face to face with what at first appeared to be an elderly man propped up against the door, since bulged inwards slightly...

The man was clearly deceased just by a cursory examination, but something about him struck Spike as peculiar enough to warrant investigation. Pulling a heavy flashlight from his utility belt, the young man had to get almost face to face with the man in order to see. It was then that he made a startling conclusion, as his closer examination revealed something... Well... Strange. If Spike thought he was scared before, he didn't know what he felt now...

The truth was that this man wasn't elderly in the slightest, at he was merely... Dried out, like beef jerky, but... Somehow more desiccated. The eyes were shriveled and dry, the skin pale and leathery... His face was contorted into an extreme look of agony and fear, his teeth yellow and cracked. Spike had no idea how this disturbing feat was accomplished, but that wasn't what truly put the fear in his heart. That honor fell to a pair vertical slits, one on on either of the man's temples... Both were smeared with a strange glowing purple liquid.

Obviously this man wasn't killed on impact... Strangely, he was almost totally naked, and someone had left a loosely folded suit beside him. The suit itself was in tatters, and splotched extensively with more of the violet ooze. To Spike's horror he recognized a faded tattoo on the man's pectoral... A Maltese cross, decorated with the emblem of the RVFD... The name 'Hasty Ladder' was barely discernible beneath... Hadn't Spike already encountered that man before? A sudden and frightening prospect filled Spike's head... Something had done this recently, and whatever was responsible had stolen this man's uniform. He lifted the dried out husk with a surprising amount of ease, then passed along to Maple Spicket.

"I don't know what the fuck's happening, but watch yourself around that 'Hasty Ladder' guy... Fuck, the whole RVFD. Don't let any of 'em leave, and keep this one out of sight! Tuck him in with the bodies behind Engine One!" Spike warned harshly... Maple Spicket had been with him the entire time, and if he was the creature responsible for doing this, surely he would've done anything he could to stop Spike before finding the body. "Once that's done, I want you to get on a phone and place a call to Maksym Field, ask for Mister Gaze. Tell him Spike's calling, if they give you any static just say 'Blackwood'!" Maple just stared at him quizzically. "Just do it!" Trusting his firefighting brother to carry out the task, Spike girded himself again for the task at hand.

Over the course of their conversations, Orzel had hinted once or twice that she worked on matters that were... Unusual... Strange even. She never went into much detail, but she had passed along a few gems... For one thing, she'd informed him of a special codeword and when to use, just in case he happened upon anything strange while he was on the job. Not strange as in 'I could've sworn I parked my car here instead of there', but rather... Well... Otherworldly.

Especially if it had to do with there being two of a person, notably if one of those persons was dead, and especially if that person had a job that entailed a uniform of any kind. Said person might turn up later, somehow, and if they did Spike was to act as if he didn't know they were dead. More importantly, if he suspected a 'Blackwood' scenario, he should keep on his guard at all times, and be very careful about the people he trusted. The number of people 'in the know' had to remain small... No matter how much others assured him it was okay, that they could be trusted, that he was safe, he had to assume they were a threat.

He'd begged Orzel for more information than that, but she'd already told him more than she should've... She just wanted him to be safe, and Spike had to wonder what the odds were that he'd ever encounter something like that. Apparently he'd just beaten the odds. Whatever the word 'Blackwood' actually meant, he was not under any circumstance to use it unless he was one-hundred percent certain he'd happened upon something 'Otherworldly'. Orzel had told him this with such seriousness and concern that Spike was inclined to believe her...

From there on he and Maple carried on their rescue mission, until all cars were searched and cleared of survivors. With their grisly task complete, the firefighters made their way back to the waiting trucks. With resources limited, the sun going down, and the air in the tanks running low, the decision was made to allow the evacuated cars to burn while new air tanks were swapped for the old. Spike was one of the last to go swap tanks, preferring to go near the end so that he could do so alone, just in case whatever quasi-alien creature was out there wanted another snack... Spike was assuming it was an alien for now, surely there was nothing native to Equus that could do such a thing.

With fresh air in his respirator, he made his way back towards Engine One. By now the sun was completely set, so the only illumination came from hand-held flashlights and the fire itself. Big Macintosh and Rich stood at the front of the Engine, both of them eying the flaming tanker cars with nervous postures. They'd been pouring hundreds of gallons of water on the tankers nearest the flames, as they were most at risk for a BLEVE. That, unfortunately, prevented them from trying to put out the rest of the blaze. Reinforcements from Coalwood were still several minutes out...

A group of paramedics was still operating nearby, stabilizing the wounded victims' necks and placing them on stretchers to be carried out. They were still tending to the two women pulled from the mail car, who seemed surprisingly well off all things considered. There were others, though... Others that hadn't been nearly as lucky. One woman's face at first looked to have been cut severely, but as Spike got a good view of her face, he realized there was more to it than that. She was young, maybe twenty or twenty one... At one time she might've been pretty, but the collision of her head with some unknown object, coupled with severe burns, left her looking almost like... Well, it was difficult describe. The closest approximation Spike could think of was when he flipped a hamburger too early, so little chunks of it remained stuck on the grill, exposing the uncooked ground beef beneath.

Setting his jaw, Spike watched one of the paramedics search for the woman's pulse, while another examined her eyes. They were talking among one another, but all the young man heard was a progressive ringing in his ears, growing louder and louder, until all the world was deafened to him. Again he recalled the times when Orzel would get quiet, when she would just... Stare through him... Again he'd thought he understood what she felt, but now... Now having seen desolation on so massive a scale, Spike truly knew exactly why she took on that look. She was reliving it, in her mind, just as he likely would for the rest of his life...

Spike wanted to go somewhere private, to pull off his respirator and throw up, to try and purge the gruesome images from his mind, before every grisly detail became seared perfectly into his brain... He would be afforded no such luxury. This was his job. He had to do his job.

"Hold up!" Rich ordered hurriedly, shaking Spike from his moment of introspection and back into the present. "What's so important you had Emerald run off for?" The young man paused for a moment, then glanced around for any sign of the RVFD. Seeing none of them present, he gestured for Rich to follow him behind Engine One, towards the bodies.

"You're probably not gonna believe me when I say this, Boss, and I can't really give you much detail, but..." Spike began, pausing briefly to grab a fire axe from the side of the truck... Just in case Rich wasn't really Rich... "I know a guy who knows a guy in the Government, and he knows a thing or two about weird shit... Told me I should give him a call if I ever found some of that weird shit on the job." The man stopped beside the other bodies, where he was relieved to see the body he'd recovered from the carriage resting untouched. Rich visibly recoiled at the sight of the dried out leathery husk. "I'd say this qualifies."

"Holy shit..." Rich said quietly, his respirator wheezing as Spike tucked the remains back under the rear of the truck. "That's Hasty Ladder! I know that stupid tattoo anywhere... How's that possible, he just went to work the pile by the locomotives!" Rich glanced over in the general direction of the locomotives, then shook his head.

"This stays between us, alright?" Spike asked hesitantly, Rich gave an equally hesitant nod. "Y'know that weird shit I mentioned?" The Assistant Chief nodded. "You ever see that movie where the aliens come and swap places with people? That sort of weird shit." Spike held up a hand and jerked his thumb in the direction of Ponyville. "Before you say I'm nuts, lemme remind you of half the shit that goes on in our backyard!" He slung the axe over his shoulder, watching Rich process the information for himself. "Look, you know just about as much as I do. This friend I mentioned says we can't trust anyone, no matter who they look like! I know in a couple minutes a bunch of guys from the Army gonna pop in here, them we can trust. No one else, alright?"

"Alright..." Rich agreed reluctantly, turning his attention back towards the burning locomotives. "Look, Mac wanted me to tell you to head on over to those two burning tankers. Wants to see if you're strong enough to push them away from the others. They're still leaking whatever it is, and its burning like a motherfucker. If we can get them out of the way we'll have a much easier time actually fighting the fire." Spike couldn't hide a skeptical look in his eyes. "I know, I hear they normally weigh somewhere on the order of a hundred-fifty tons, but we're hoping enough of its burned off by now to make it moveable." Rich patted him on the shoulder. "I'm trusting you on this alien thing, alright? At least give it a shot, just keep an eye on Hasty, yeah?"

"Alright, I'll give it a go." Spike restored the fire axe to its original position, quietly making his way along the scorched road towards the burning tankers and locomotives. The young man paid as little attention as he could the the RVFD men without looking like he was trying to ignore them, quickly approaching a pair of men in FDPV bunker gear in the process of dousing the uninvolved tanker in water. It hissed and popped in thick steamy clouds of vapor, but the raging green fire that lashed against it failed to diminish. "Chief wants me to take a crack at moving the burning one, try to keep your hoses off of me!" The men looked at him doubtfully, but nonetheless nodded.

Gritting his teeth, Spike limbered up as best his heavy gear would allow before finally cracking his knuckles. Cautiously he stalked closer to the tanker, closer than any other firefighter might've dared, the raging inferno already battling against his protective gear. A faint emerald glow emanated from the patch on his shoulder, indicating that it'd started working to dissipate the heat, which it was only supposed to do when faced with temperatures well above one-thousand degrees. Step by step, foot by foot, the young man's advance didn't stop. Even if his gear melted or burned away, he still should've been more than fine in such a hellacious environment...

The flames themselves appeared to be the result of ethanol, though they were likely fed by what Spike suspected to be two otherwise innocuous materials, raw Incandessium and Enchantium... In all honestly, it was probably best they were burning, rather than remaining mixed together and under pressure, especially when exposed to extreme heat. This was essentially how a substance known Stabilized Sokolite was made. In addition to its usefulness as a binding agent in enchanting, it could also serve as an additive to explosives, making them more potent.

Heating the combined ingredients beyond a very narrow range for an extended period of time created the far more dangerous 'Unstable Sokolite', which had a shock tolerance just under that of nitroglycerin. Hopefully the substance that'd leached out, and remained inside the tanker, was too diluted by impurities to have achieved this unstable state of yet.

There was a growing number of industrial applications for both forms of Sokolite. Unstable Sokolite, when mixed with other combustible materials, served as an exceptional oxidizing agent. Adding more chemicals into the mix resulted in the creation of 'Re-Stabilized Sokolite', a far more potent form of its 'Stabilized Sokolite' cousin. Pure Unstable Sokolite meanwhile found use in large scale demolition.

Of course there were problems aside from whether it'd explode or not, namely that Sokolite of all kinds would become exponentially more radioactive depending on the amount of contaminants in its ingredients. This particular slurry was probably loaded all sorts of things to ratchet up its radioactivity. Knowledge of these chemicals, and many others, was required reading among CDA fire departments, as each required different methods to extinguish.

As per recent safety regulations, the two ingredients were supposed to be transported separately from one another, and never in so large a quantity as was evidently aboard the derailed freight train. Apparently Arquerite Chemicals hadn't gotten that particular memo, or the one about transporting Render in flimsy metal drums...

As protective as his suit and the enchanted patch were, Spike had never faced a fire fed by Unstable Sokolite, and so he expected it'd be the first real test of just how fireproof a dragon actually was. The tanker car loomed over him, a soot-blackend crumpled juggernaut of blazing hot steel. The tanker's eerie green cargo was streaming from several massive splits in its side, immediately catching fire as soon as they made contact with the air. These splits revealed the tanker's steel to be roughly an inch thick... The metal actually glowed nearly white hot, and was gradually being melted away by the pressure of the gushing slurry. Fully loaded, a tanker like this would weigh somewhere between hundred-forty and a hundred-fifty tons.

Given that so much of the cargo had burned away or flooded into a massive pool of the glowing liquid around its shattered carriage wheels, Spike was hoping it'd be reduced to something like seventy-tons. There were several stories where dragons from the 'Reaver Clan' had gone up against the Army, in some instances being so strong that they could lift and throw entire tanks. Spike wasn't a Reaver, but he hoped he might be at a point in his training where now he could attempt to lift such a weight... After all, he regularly trained by lifting entire automobiles, and those generally weighed a few tons.

Lifting cars in a perfectly safe environment was one thing, doing so while standing waist deep in a lake of burning chemicals that could potentially explode at any given moment was another. The frightfully intense verdant flames whipped back and forth, and though they were rightfully intimidating, Spike girded himself and clenched his teeth. Taking several tentative steps forward, Spike was surprised to find that his respirator still hadn't started melting, nor had any of his other gear. The patch on his jacket was flaring brighter than before, and Spike estimated the temperature had to be several thousand degrees by now. He could've sworn Orzel said they shouldn't be effective against such heat... Maybe she'd put a little something extra in his patch?

The young man closed his eyes for a moment, taking several deep breaths and envisioning Orzel to calm himself... He was honestly glad she hadn't decided to Astral Project to him at the moment, as he wasn't entirely sure if he'd be able to do this, and didn't want to appear weak... In her own way, Orzel was there with him now, in the form of that patch... Helping to keep him alive, holding back the flames so that he could do his work. With one final sigh of determination, Spike stepped into the flaming pool and commenced wading towards the base of the carriage. At first he couldn't be sure, but... After just a few seconds in the pool, he could've sworn he tasted copper, or maybe tin?

To his everlasting surprise he remained entirely dry, as the flaming chemical seemed incapable of actually making contact with his clothes on account of Orzel's enchantment. The fires whipped all around him, the patch on his shoulder glaring brightly as it sopped up much of the heat and, apparently, repelled the chemical. Stopping less than a foot from the tanker, Spike placed both gloved hands against the searing hot surface of massive steel construct, then gave an experimental push... The super-heated metal bent inwards, deforming almost as malleable as clay, though the tanker itself remained stationary. Gritting his teeth, he took a few steps backwards, then surged forth with his shoulder lowered.

The impact was far more violent than his earlier push, actually resulting in the tanker briefly rocking over onto its side with a heavy metal shriek, only to suddenly roll back towards him. Assuming a better stance, the young man raised his hands above his head and braced for the tanker to land upon him. He wasn't entirely sure what would happen when it did... Maybe he'd punch his way inside, then have to punch his way out. Maybe he'd actually catch it... Maybe it'd just flatten him like a pancake.

In a matter of moments every second of his life flashed before his eyes, from his youngest childhood years to the present day... His Mom, his friends, his Mom's friends... All had contributed to molding him into the man he was, all had helped him to take on the responsibilities of growing up, had taught him that the strong needed to protect the weak... Then there was Orzel, the person he wanted to continue growing up with... How would she react to news of his demise? Likely the same way she had at the loss of her Mother... If anything, leaving her in such a state would be Spike's biggest regret. He'd told her he loved her, but... He hadn't told her he loved her. Part of Spike feared that this moment might very well be his last, that there was nothing he could do but embrace the inevitable... Another part of him, its bestial voice rising from deep down inside of him, refused to accept it. It would not go willingly.

Spike couldn't help but agree with its sudden emergency, this wasn't how a dragon was supposed to go out... He wasn't going to be crushed by some paltry piece of rolling stock... Time slowed to a crawl as the massive tanker came crashing down, crashing down with all its weight, implacably intent on smushing him. Again Spike's mind flashed with images of Orzel... Her smile, her laugh, the night they'd danced together... In an instant the tanker's fall was violently slammed to a halt, the world snapping back into focus. Spike emitted a deep guttural groan, straining against its weight while struggling to find his footing in the broccoli colored slurry of flame.

A great bellowing roar erupted from his throat, and audible through his respirator was voice not wholly his own, taking on multiple tones, just as Orzel's had. Slowly the tanker rose higher and higher into the air. It had to weigh something like seventy or eighty tons at this point, having dumped the majority of its contents. With a steady determinedness, Spike walked the burning tanker out into the field beside the train tracks. He carried it almost over his shoulder, as one might carry a rug heavy bag of grain. Every step saw his feet sink into the soil, but he would just tear them loose and keep moving.

A steady stream of flame dribbled from the fissures in its hull, stretching a good thirty yards as a testament to Spike's display of strength. Here the flaming tanker would pose little further risk of heating the other tankers beyond their breaking point. One down, one to go. Hurling the cumbersome heap of metal away, it landed to the sound of a tremendous calamitous chorus of groaning steel and twisting metal. The mixing adrenaline and other draconic stress hormones coursing through Spike's veins once more bid time to appear slower. Strangely, he could feel his muscles bulging larger, his bunker gear becoming notably tighter as he moved.

Striding predatorily back to the remaining burning car, Spike wasted little time in attempting to repeat his earlier feat of strength. Crouching once more in a lake of flames, the young man lifted with his legs, and thus more easily raised the tanker out of its flaming crater. This one was far heavier than the last, and yet he found little trouble in heaving it about on his own. Once again Spike's steps were slow and careful, though this time he moved with considerably more confidence than before. In a matter of several minutes he'd repeated the task, manipulating massive amounts of steel and hazardous materials in a manner impossible for a normal man...

Odds were all that lifting would leave him sore in the morning, especially considering how he'd expended himself earlier at the fundraiser, a place in time that seemed remarkably distant despite it having been only a couple hours ago. The ultimate pain he found himself in when all was said and done would have to be Future Spike's problem, right now he was still busy acting in the present. The second flaming tanker soon found itself tossed beside its sibling, all while flaming chemicals beaded and cascaded like rain water off of Spike's thoroughly charred bunker gear.

Wreathed in flames, the young dragon felt an instinctual need to pounded his chest, his voice once more erupting in a powerful roar that rivaled the flames themselves. He wished Orzel could've been there to see him, now that he knew the outcome of the risky venture. While she probably wouldn't admit it herself, it was well known that all dragons tended to find immense displays of strength and bravery on the part of their significant other to be quite attractive... Much as he tried to remain humble, Spike couldn't help but feel a sense of exhilarated pride in the aftermath, because it seemed just about everyone that'd been working the scene had paused, however briefly, to gawk.

Other firefighters were finally arriving on scene, each of them wearing small yellow tubes affixed to their bunker gear, which Spike recognized as a CDA issued dosimeter. He cast a dubious glance at the burning liquid he'd just waded through, wondering just how much radiation he himself might've been exposed to... Likely more than all the other men on scene... With the tankers no longer present to feed the pools of flaming liquid, the newly arrived departments were able to begin adding their hoses to the fray. One tanker in particular arrived, painted bright yellow as opposed to the standard red, indicating it was a HAZMAT vehicle. It provided the various firefighting teams with access to a dense orange fire retardant foam, the proper tool for the job.

By now the world was enveloped in the near total blackness of night, and so the only appreciable light came from spotlights affixed to the firetrucks and the flames themselves. For the next twenty minutes Spike resumed the task of fighting the fires as directed by Rich and Macintosh, lugging massive hose lines, moving heavy materials, all while more and more personnel filtered in.

Spike's interest in the new arrivals resided more in the timely arrival of a Fire Brigade from the nearby Canterhorn Territorial Garrison Arsenal, a group that'd just happened to be undertaking a series of wildfire fighting drills in the area... Every member of the 'Army Fire Brigade' wore full black bunker suits, though their respirators were notable different. Rather than helmets, their heads were concealed beneath tough fabric hoods, which wreathed rounded polarized faceplates. Every breath they took wheezed more easily than those of the FDPV, and their air tanks were notably smaller in scale.

Spike didn't buy the story for a second, seeing as every single one of them was armed. This was allegedly so that they could guard any barrels of Render in the area, preventing less than savory individuals from snatching up materials that might be used in a 'Dirty Bomb', but quarantining and cleaning up hazardous materials was another of the numerous scenarios CDA Departments trained the handle.

His disbelief of their cover story, or the reason for their being so formidably equipped, was cemented when their leader made his presence known. He went by the name 'Smith', Colonel Silver Smith of the Canterlot Territorial Garrison, but Spike recognized his voice as Piercing Gaze. The young man was as cooperative as he could be when approached, leading 'Colonel Smith' to the corpse of Hasty Ladder, still stashed among the dead near Engine One.

"You said you saw more of this purple stuff on clothes beside him?" The man asked curiously, crouching beside the body. Spike nodded, watching Piercing examine the strange lacerations on either side of the man's head. "You were right to call us..." He stated seriously, standing to his full height and gesturing for two of the other military 'firefighters' to come over. "Bag him for transport. I want this man's duplicate found immediately... If you can't find him, call in the dogs and an aerial team with thermals. Take him alive." One of the men nodded dutifully, rushing off towards the area where the volunteer firefighters were being gathered for decontamination. "Who else knows about this?"

"Assistant Chief Rich mostly... Him and Maple Spicket, the guy I sent to call you." Spike explained, earning a slightly annoyed sigh on Piercing's part. "Hey, your lucky I'm the one that found him! He'd be a charcoal briquette right about now, and you'd have no idea about this 'Blackwood' thing, whatever that is." The man rubbed the back of his neck, his respirator wheezing softly as he was unfortunately forced to concede with a nod.

"Spike, I assume you know it's me here, right?" Piercing asked, again the young man nodded. "What did Orzel tell you about Blackwood?" The man asked earnestly, so Spike answered as honestly as he could, further explaining that Orzel had only done so because she was worried for Spike's safety. The older man merely nodded after that. "You cannot tell anyone else about this, or about Blackwood, okay?" The man's tone was a little less intense than before, though no less serious.

"Repeat after me. This man was killed by exposure to radioactive waste strewn about by the crash. His body is too contaminated to undergo a traditional burial and will have to be cremated." Piercing said slowly, but Spike just stared at him expectantly. "This is bigger than you can possibly imagine, laddy. The implications of what you've found are dire, and any leak of this plus the information you know to the public could lives at risk. It is a matter of utmost national security."

"Is it the same National Security matter that forced Orzel to leave...?" Spike asked pointedly, his only answer came in the form of an imperceptible nod... That was all he really needed. "This man was killed by exposure to radioactive waste, strewn about by the crash. His body is too badly contaminated to undergo traditional burial and will have to be cremated." The young man stated sourly. "Don't you have some way to just wipe this from my memory or something?"

"That's what you asked the last time." Piercing stated dryly, only to chuckle faintly. "You did good by calling us, lad... Your country's proud of you." The man added honestly. "I can't go into further details right now, but... If you're really interested in learning more about what's going on, why don't you give me a call later. The people I work for need a pair of eyes in Ponyville, someone to stand as a sort of... Sentinel for us. Orzel trusts you, that makes you a good candidate." Spike was surprised at the offer, and he'd certainly take Piercing up on it later, when things weren't so crazy. "Now, I'll need to debrief you and the other two gentlemen you mentioned..." What followed was a brief by succinct conversation held between Piercing's 'Silver Smith' persona, Spike, Rich, and Maple Spicket.

They were informed that the body of Hasty Ladder appeared as it did because he had been struck by a cosmic ray, which bounced off the sun at just the right angle to create a clone... Of course, none of them actually believed that story, so Piercing 'leveled' with them. Speaking 'off the record', he informed them that he had no clue as to what'd happened, only that this was the real Hasty ladder, and that the one they had now was some sort of imposter. Not an alien, as Spike had suggested, just a fluke of magic that needed to be studied.

Nonetheless, the news could potentially cause undue attention to be drawn to the accident, which could potentially damage the economy and put a lot of people out of work. So Colonel Smith appealed to their patriotism... It'd make things much easier for all parties involved if they kept quiet while an investigation was conducted.

As further incentive to this end, evidently fearing patriotism wouldn't be enough, each man was offered the princely sum of fifty-thousand Bits up front, and an additional two-thousand Bits a month for the remainder of their lives, totally tax free. It would be in their bank accounts within the hour, should they accept. They were, of course, free to decline the offer and go to the papers. This was Equestria after all, there was nothing 'Colonel Smith' or anyone else for that matter could, or would, do to stop them from exercising their freedom of speech. Given the choice, the three of them all agreed that one dead body among hundreds of other dead bodies wasn't really newsworthy, even if the circumstances of the man's death, and apparent temporary resurrection, were admittedly strange.

Spike played along more to keep up the illusion that he didn't have some deeper idea as to what was going on. Somewhere in his mind, he had a feeling his earlier example of 'aliens replacing people' wasn't that far from the truth. It wasn't out of the realm of possibility... After all, Orzel was an alien. Then again, maybe he'd find out the truth when he called Mister Gaze later. Hopefully it'd make talking to Orzel about her work less cumbersome, if nothing else.

All three of them agreed they'd first use the money to cover whatever budget shortfall remained following the fundraiser. Whatever they had left would be theirs to keep. Furthermore, they wanted an additional 'cut' to be paid to Hasty Ladder's estate, double what they'd been offered. They deemed it the price for getting them to lie to a widow and her children. It seemed a fair means of atonement for omitting certain facts in their official reports. Piercing was amenable to their terms, so the deal went ahead.

Shortly thereafter, the FDPV was rotated off the line, as while the bulk of the wreckage had been extinguished, there were still numerous spreading wildfires that would likely burn through the night. The men would still need to go through decontamination, but from that point on they'd all be free to get some rest. It was only when Spike stepped into the well lit decontamination tent that he realized just how black and sooty his clothes were, and how close to empty his air tank was.

Calculations made by examining the dosimeters of other firefighters that'd arrived later revealed members of the FDPV and the RVFD were both exposed to a moderately concerning level of arcane radiation. Spike especially so, with readings taken from his bunker gear showing that wading through the pool of slurry had exposed him to enough arcane radiation that a normal man would've writhing in agony by now, even of the clothes themselves repelled the liquid...

As such, both departments were checked into Canterlot General Hospital for observation and preventative treatment, as CGH was the closest facility with personnel qualified to administer the treatment. The paramedics thought it especially wise to keep Spike for close examination, given the fact that Spike had lifted several hundred tons of weight that evening, that he'd evidently gained a significant amount of muscle mass in the process, and that he showed no signs of acute radiation syndrome. If anything, he seemed fitter after his exposure than he'd been before. If nothing else, it was very strange... Like... Something out of a comic book or pulp science-fiction novel.

It was only as he was riding back to Ponyville in the back of an ambulance that the full force of everything that'd just happened really hit him... No longer in a constant state of danger, free from the weight of his bunker gear, all the death, blood, and carnage came barreling at him like the two very trains that'd crashed into one another to begin with. Even if Spike wanted to sleep in the hospital, he doubted it'd be possible... Now was a moment when he wished Orzel would come to him, when he wished she would appear at his side, and tell him once more that everything would be alright...

It was just after three in the morning, and Luna had finally made it to the soft embrace of her bed, a delay widely instigated by the time difference between Equestria and the Griffon Empire. The Iron Bloods had renewed their anti-Empire rhetoric, albeit not without a legitimate reason for doing so... The sinking of a cargo ship, the Aleksa, had seen one of the final bastions of support for the Griffon Empire in the north all but evaporate. The thestrals of Griffonia had long seen the Griffon Empire as the 'successor state' to the Imperium, even though they maintained a symbolic allegiance to the Obsidian Throne.

The death of so many thestrals in what appeared to be a deliberate act by the Griffon navy had swayed them from vague indifference and outright refusal to righteous betrayal and vehement hatred. Oberst Eisenblut had capitalized on the anti-Empire but pro-Imperium sentiment by claiming that, if the North should gain Independence from the south, he would restore it to its rightful place as the 'Imperium's true successor'... What this would mean in the long run was, admittedly, difficult to predict. That wasn't even getting into the matter that the attack had killed at least one Equestrian citizen, possibly more, which hadn't done the Empire any favors in the Equestrian press.

There were several lengthy attempts to bring the Empire and the Iron Bloods to the table, but... Only the Iron Bloods turned up. There was nothing on the part of the Empire but flat denial, mainly through spokespersons. Emperor Grover hadn't been seen or heard from in days, and there were rumors circulating that he might be forced to abdicate on account of his potentially failing mental faculties. Crown-Prince Stempel was a relative wildcard, widely untested, and much too old to take the throne. It'd more likely be one of the Generals, and that in turn indicated a strong possibility that a Griffon Civil War wasn't far over the horizon...

Luna would've been in bed at least by midnight were that the extent of things, but things were never that simple in Canterlot... The Great Clans of the Dragonlands had dispatched another Special Emissary, this one to complain about how certain new weapons and armor were giving the people of Lone Star an 'unfair advantage' in defending themselves against the 'Unaffiliated Clans'. Luna was of the mind that when forced to defend one's self from imminent death, one needn't concern themselves with the 'fairness' of how they did so, a fact she communicated as diplomatically as possible.

The Great Clans were more concerned with their own interests, namely keeping the smaller clans content enough with their lot not to pursue membership in the Great Clans. A progressively hardening Equestrian border meant less plunder, and less plunder had the smaller clans targeting one another. Sooner or later, they'd combine to form larger 'Great Clans', either through conquering their neighbors or peacefully integrating, rare as the latter might've been.

The balance of power in the Dragonlands, both East and South, had always skewed in favor of the 'Legacy' Great Clans, those that'd been members of their loose confederation for thousands of years. A sudden emergence of newer, less 'traditional', Great Clans threatened to upend that balance. Dragons weren't nearly as averse to waging war against one another as the Griffons were, and so the Special Emissary was hoping Equestria might ban the use of some of the more effective means of repelling attack... Primarily SMGs, body armor, and any other 'Modern Weapons', so that the Unaffiliated Clans could go back to the 'Old Ways'.

Luna had told him, a little more bluntly this time, that even if she wanted to, she simply couldn't. Equestria's constitution was quite clear on the matter, and even if it wasn't, the people of Lone Star would just find new and more violent means of resisting... Furthermore, if the clans raiding Equestria's southern border truly were 'Unaffiliated' with the Great Clans, then it shouldn't be the Great Clans coming to plead on their behalf.

Any clan 'affiliated' with the Great Clans that raided Equestrian territory would nullify the treaty preventing Equestria's military from responding in full force, which would lead to a war between the two. There'd been a time when that war likely would've been fought to a bloody draw, but that was no longer the case. The very same weapons decimating the unaffiliated clans would give Equestria a military edge overall, and its sheer industrial base would out-produce the Dragon economy in terms of war material. They would be buried in an avalanche of tanks, planes, bombs, rifles, and all manner of other new devastating weapons.

The Emissary knew this fact quite well, and so the matter of 'fairness' was quickly dropped, for now... Luna had no doubt the matter would arise once again, next time it was likely the Special Emissary would demand to speak to Orzel, a 'fellow' dragon... The woman actually had quite a nice giggle at the thought, her daughter wouldn't be nearly as diplomatic in her own responses...

That meeting had been the last thing to trouble Luna's troubled mind before returning to her chambers. Now the Princess was engaged in that most wonderful of after-hours activities... Sleeping. It wasn't her typical 'working sleep', either, but a true and solitary slumber. This was one of the few nights that she didn't take up the mantle of Dream Warden, though it was an occurrence that had become slightly more frequent as of late, as frankly she had enough to worry about without taking on the problems of others. Of course, though her current slumber was free of the nightmares of other people, it was no less fraught with the horrors of her own self imposed torment.

The current cavalcade of imagery consisted primarily of Equestria in flames, falling rapidly beneath a combined Griffon-Dragon-Changeling invasion, with all of Luna's loved ones being killed or captured while she was forced to watch. All things considered, however, it was one of her milder nightmares... Frightening enough to be unnerving, but frankly boring when compared to the other things Luna had witnessed in her line of work. At least this particular dream wasn't the one where her daughter transformed into an evil version of herself, forcing Luna to use the elements of harmony to banish her to the Moon...

The continuing parade of darker images was thankfully halted when the waking world intruded upon that of dreams. The bed was shifting beside her, and Luna became vaguely aware of an arm draping itself around her waist, followed by someone distantly speaking her name. The nightmares ceased to coalesce, fading into nothingness as the voice grew more insistent, and it was with bleary eyes that the Princess returned to the land of consciousness. Blinking tiredly as she gazed up at the skylight ceiling above her bed, she was easily able to discern that she'd been asleep for perhaps an hour, judging by the movement of the stars. With an annoyed groan, she turned to face the source of the arm. Unsurprisingly she found the face of Observos... Piercing Gaze, looking lovingly at her in the pale light of her moon. She'd gone to bed alone that night, so he must've only just returned.

"I have been asleep for less than an hour..." Luna grunted dismally, unable to muster anything more than a weak frown. There were worse things to be woken up by, at least Piercing wasn't a guard come to tell her that the Changelings had finally put whatever their scheme was into play. Even so, sleep was precious to Luna, and any disturbance was unwelcome... "You best have good reason to disturb me, otherwise I shall have you thrown in the dungeon..." Piercing smiled faintly, chuckling softly before kissing her on the cheek, and it was then she detected the faint lingering odor of smoke, though... Not his typical pipe smoke. "I was not kidding." The woman added darkly, though Piercing took that as an invitation to kiss her again, though his features quickly took a more serious look. "Did you just get back...? How did your 'excursion' go?"

"We caught another infiltrator, so... I'd say it went well enough." Piercing explained moderately, laying his head on the pillow and scooting closer to Luna's back. "Hoped to catch you still awake, but..." He shook his head. "Sorry for waking you, love. I just wanted to let you know I'm back, fit as a fiddle..." The man added matter-of-factly, to which Luna could only roll her eyes and roll over to face Piercing directly. They were close enough now that their noses were practically touching, and it was evident by Piercing's still relatively neat hair that he had only just arrived.

"I get the sense there is more to this than merely apprehending an infiltrator." Observed Luna, prompting another more reluctant nod from Piercing. The fact that he'd gotten into bed with her at least told the woman that it wasn't immediately serious, that her presence wasn't urgently needed in the situation room, and she took some modicum of comfort in that.

"This one killed a firefighter at that derailment earlier..." The man began, before quickly holding up a hand. "Not Spike..." He added, knowing that Luna would likely ask, if only because it seemed the young man was dead set on inserting himself into Orzel's life... Perhaps that was a poor choice of words, on Luna's part. By now she'd come to accept that Orzel and Spike were in love, or at the very least thought they were, and nothing she did would change things for the better. "From the look of things, the infiltrator's also responsible for the accident to begin with. We found one of the track switches tampered with, a mile or two down from the derailment." Piercing's features turned to granite. "He hasn't said a word since we brought him in, no surprise there, but Orcus thinks he wanted to do more damage than was done."

"How so...?" Luna asked, and Piercing explained to her the contents of the freight train's cargo. Had there been some sort of larger explosion, or had the other tankers been allowed to 'cook' to the point of BLEVE, the resultant detonation of all that slurry would've hurled barrels of improperly stored Render thousands of feet into the air...

The then widely dispersed radioactive particles would fall out of the sky across a wide area, thus leaving a space of nearly forty square miles entirely uninhabitable. Fortunately the CDA was working to clean up both the spilled cargo and the Render, and putting plans in the work to deal with other situations of potential 'fallout' in the future. The rail line itself would hopefully be back in service by the end of the week. They would've observed a longer period of pause, were that particular piece of track not absolutely vital to Equestria's economy.

"I see..." The woman nodded, inwardly sighing at the thought of just how close they could've come to an utter disaster.

"Yeah..." Piercing agreed, snuggling up against her with a sigh. "Your future son-in-law really saved our bacon. Did you know he's strong enough to lift a tanker car? Twice?" Luna's eyes widened at the man's statement about her 'future son-in-law', prompting the man to burst out laughing... She knew then that he'd only said it to 'pilfer her ibex', or perhaps the saying was 'get her goat'? "Seriously though, that boy's got real potential."

"I don't doubt that..." Conceded Luna, leaning over and lightly thwacking Piercing for his little joke, all in good fun. "Still, the idea of him and Orzel being able to interact entirely in private makes me almost as uneasy as the thought that a large portion of our farmland might've been irradiated for the next thousand years. You are of little help in the matter." Piercing chuckled again, pulling the blankets up a little higher over both of them. Stressful as the news was, Luna was still incredibly tired, and as long as the fire was contained she saw little need to dwell in the land of the conscious. Still, she had some questions regarding the Changelings... "I was unable to read Orzel's latest report on the runes found aboard Warlock..."

"That's because she filed the report at the last minute..." Piercing explained, briefly conjuring an image of a hurried Orzel to Luna's mind. It wasn't like her daughter to leave things until the deadline, at least not things relating to enchanting. "So far she's been able to translate a few of the runes, relating to 'Making two into one' and 'taking from the dead', or words to that effect." Luna looked at him with obvious concern. "Despite their silence, we're getting a lot of good intel just by studying our prisoners. We're not scrambling like we were before, and we got a massive backlog of enchanting schematics to comb through... I'm gonna recommend to Orcus that we take some of the pressure off."

"Perhaps, upon completion of her analysis of the runic circle, she would be better off devising a means of capturing the mole." Suggested the Princess, nodding at the notion of giving her daughter less work. Developing enchantments to help counter the leak in the Agency wouldn't be nearly as stressful a job as designing new 'Field Enchantments'.

"I was thinking more we just let her do whatever she wants for a time, let her mind reset as much as possible... Maybe even let her get into a little trouble." Countered Piercing, yawning faintly as he and Luna both prepared for sleep. "I don't want her to burn out, she is still just a kid... A very grown-up hyper-intelligent kid, but a kid nonetheless. A little youthful rebellion can be a good thing, from time to time..." Luna only hummed, closing her eyes and sighing softly through her nose.

"Even so..." She stated blearily, nuzzling up closer to Piercing. "Continue to refer to young Spike as my 'future son-in-law' at your own peril..." Piercing once again chuckled, sounding much more distant now than before.

"I love you, Lu..."

"I love you too, Observos..."

Chapter 25

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 26

Spike's life following the Rose Crash had become... Strange, if nothing else. He'd indeed placed that call to Piercing Gaze, and had been told in no uncertain terms that what he was about to hear could never be unheard. That once he was in, much as was the case with the mafia or a gym membership, he was in for life. What followed was nothing short of amazing, terrifying, bewildering, astounding, and a whole myriad of other wondrous adjectives that Orzel had supplied, but Spike couldn't rightly remember.

Cults, monsters, monster cults, fairies, vampires, werewolves, rogue wizards, and so much more... Things he'd thought the for longest time to be confined to the pages of his adventure novels, or the dice rolls of his O&O game, were unmistakably, unquestionably, inescapably real. What was more, Piercing wanted Spike to help in monitoring and even containing these 'anomalies'. Ponyville was what was commonly referred to as a 'Hot Spot', a place where an inordinate amount of strange happenings took place, with no real obvious reason as to why.

So just like that, with a simple phone call, Spike got himself a second job. He was now a 'Provisional Field Agent' of the Nocturne Agency, tasked with monitoring the town for any strange goings-on. Mundane crimes and acts of magic weren't within his purview, and he was expressly forbidden from 'spying' on Equestrian citizens without receiving some form of authorization, not that he would... More importantly, he had to keep his status a secret from basically everyone in his life... Everyone except for Orzel, of course...

Honestly, Spike learned more about how to deal with the weirdness from her than he did from Piercing, seeing as she had a far more analytical way of looking at things. Today, however, their meeting was going just a little more differently than had been the case in the past. It was, much to Spike's surprise, the Princess's seventeenth birthday... Or at least the closest equivalent that could reasonably be guessed, given the differences in how the Szafirian calender worked versus the Equestrian. Technically it wasn't even her birthday yet, not in whatever timezone she resided in. For Orzel, it was was still yesterday...

Complicated calendars aside, she hadn't told him ahead of times because she didn't him to make a big deal of things, and she didn't want him to feel bad about not being able to get her anything... Spike knew she'd been right to be concerned, she was his girlfriend after all, and it would've left him feeling quite bummed out knowing ahead of time that anything he bought her wouldn't be delivered in person. Of course, Orzel had gone out of her way to inform him as best she could about all the dangers of artifact handling, as a means of making up for keeping the news from him...

At present, the two of them were 'seated' beneath a tree at the edge of the Everfree forest, one of the many rural locations the two came to talk. Free from the prying eyes of persons in town, Spike found it far easier to speak to Orzel's astral form. She was radiant as always, especially now that she'd managed to get over some of her insecurities. Where once she went out of her way to cover every conceivable inch of skin, now she more regularly wore casual attire... Or, at the very least, what was 'casual' to her.

The Princess had leaned against Spike, content to let him drape his arm around her... It would've made for an odd sight, had Orzel actually been there, as he was now just under seven and a half feet tall, further eclipsing the young woman. Purple scales stretched up and down his arms, much as they did with Orzel, and his recently emerged horns were a vibrant green. Like the Princess, he too was dressed casually for the day, having simply donned jeans and a t-shirt. He was just in the process of recounting the events at Rose in all their gory details... Having her presence there, ethereal as it might've been, was proving quite therapeutic. Fitting, seeing as he'd recently started seeing a therapist at Orzel's continued insistence.

"I still don't understand how I can eat or sleep after that, y'know...?" Spike muttered quietly in draconic, looking at the ground while Orzel shifted out from under his arm. Quietly she moved around behind him, moving to gently rub at his shoulders, something he didn't even know he'd needed. "Does that ever occur to you? I know you eat your meat raw, it's got to occur to you too, right?" The young woman hummed softly in reply, continuing her ministrations to his stress hampered shoulder muscles.

"From time to time, yes..." Orzel explained simply, leaning her head against his back. "In those moments, I must force myself to eat regardless... It helps to remember that the animal you are just as much an animal as that which you consume, and that what you are doing is part of your inherent nature." Spike nodded simply at that, sighing once more to himself.

"I'll try to remember that, I think... It's just been bothering me, y'know?" Spike asked, and again he received a simple hum in reply. "You're not mad at me, are you? I didn't mean to bring up something so heavy on your birthday." Orzel responded with a good-natured chuckle, wrapping her ethereal arms around his torso and hugging him tightly from behind.

"'Birthdays' were not nearly as positively celebrated in Szafiria as they are in Equestria." Orzel explained, continuing to hug him for several moments longer. "Among the warrior caste, they were modest affairs... Typically spent with close family or loved ones. I can only project my consciousness to one person, and I chose you... I would not have done so, had I not intended to listen to your feelings, whatever they might be." Spike smiled weakly at that, feeling the young woman's arms slip away from him. She moved back beside him, once more resuming her earlier place with his arm around her.

"In that case, I've been thinking, actually..." Spike offered tentatively. "Twilight mentioned that next year you'll probably be back here in Equestria for your coronation, even if its only temporary... Is that true?" Orzel nodded simply, so Spike leaned back against the base of the tree. "Would you mind if maybe I came back with you to, well, wherever it is you've been?" The young woman sighed softly through her nose, gazing up at him with questioning eyes.

"Would I mind? Of course not, I would be overjoyed to have you return with me." Orzel began positively, Spike sensed a 'but' was coming, or something to that effect. "The real question is would you actually want to go? Of this I am not so certain." She put her spectral hand on his chest, directly over his heart. "Do not mistake me as thinking your offer insincere, but... Were you to return with me, you would not be able to return to Equestria at your leisure. Much of my safety rests on the enemy not knowing my whereabouts, so visits between here and there are on a strictly 'as needed' basis... So far there is only one other date on which I am scheduled to return, and that is the commissioning of ESS Sokol." She leaned her head against his chest. "Were you to depart with me on my coronation, it might be years before you could return again..."

Spike wanted to tell her that it would make no difference to him where he was, so long as they were together, but... They were both old enough, or at least knowledgeable enough, to know that sort of thinking was best left in the pages of a fantasy book. The truth was that Spike had a burgeoning career, both as a firefighter and as a Nocturne Agent. For his work at the Rose Crash he'd received several commendations, there were even rumors that Big Macintosh had put him in for several medals following his carrying two multi-ton rail cars away to make the scene safer, all while wading through waist deep pools of flaming radioactive industrial waste.

The thing was, for as hard as Spike worked for that career, as much as he'd struggled and trained, he still would've given it all up for his Princess... Part of him believed that it was just his youthful inexperience egging him on, that he was too enamored with Orzel to think clearly about his future. Orzel had suggested as much in her answer to his question... In that moment he was taken back to the seconds before the flaming tanker came crashing down, how he'd thought of Orzel... Then he pondered all the horror he'd seen in his short stint with the FDPV. It might not have been a long career, but Spike had certainly seen enough of that for several life times.

"I have a year to think on it, don't I?" Spike asked in a theoretical tone, to which Orzel nodded. "I don't have to make a decision right away, so let me think on it. By then, we'll both be old enough to decide what we really want to do with our lives." He grinned. "Besides, like you said, you'll be here for the commissioning ceremony. Just make sure you send me an invitation."

"I am sure you will find it quite boring, but I shall endeavor to get your name on the list." The young woman smiled warmly. "I know you would have preferred to get be something, but this...?" Orzel closed her eyes, sighing contently as she cuddled up beside him. "This time with you is really all I wanted..."

Spike took a page out of her book, letting his eyelids fall, enjoying the phantom sensation of being so close to someone so far away. In a sense, he supposed this was perhaps the closest two people could ever really be. The ethereal image that rested at his side, was more than a projection of her physical body... It was Orzel's consciousness, her mind, it was... Her. Even if their relationship failed, he doubted he would ever again come so close to seeing someone's actual inner beauty in all the many epochs that awaited him in the future. Maybe he was just over romanticizing things...

The young man opened his eyes, looking off towards the town, and Canterlot up on the mountain in the distance. He'd spent the majority of his life in the latter, and as much as he'd come to embrace Ponyville as home, more and more he found himself questioning of that was where he wanted to spend his adult years. He'd already put down roots, once again reminding himself of with his career... At the same time, it wasn't as if he wanted to move back to Canterlot either...

There were a lot of things he still didn't understand about himself, just as he was sure Orzel had the same questions, and where he belonged remained at the top of the list. More than ever it proved difficult to operate under the belief that he was just like everybody else... His mind harkened back to his aspirations to join the Equestrian military, how Twilight had explained that his being far away from home was a bad thing, but the more he thought about it, the more he disagreed...

Maybe getting away from home was exactly what he needed to answer those questions about himself that hadn't been answered in the crucible that was Rose Township. Twilight might disagree, but in less than a year's time, for him at least, it wouldn't really matter what she thought. Obviously he'd still respect her opinion, but when it came down to it she'd cease to have any control over him. He would be an adult. His future would, for the first time, rest solely in his hands...

Supreme Regent-General Pharynx quietly observed the sprawling sands of the Badlands as he, Thorax, and a small contingent of Changeling troops trudged through an oppressively dry heat. The journey from the Hive's main entrance to the Equestrian border generally took the better part of a day or more, not including detours taken to avoid Dragon raiding parties. Needless to say, the lengthy departure from the relative cool depths of the underground was gradually taking its toll.

Rather than the typical uniform he might've worn below ground, Pharynx and his fellows were attired in bright white robes and hoods, better suited to deflecting the punishing heat of Celestia's sun. Pharynx had to wonder if she'd made it a particularly nasty day simply on account of the knowledge that he and his delegation were set to arrive... Then again, it just as well could've been to keep the dragons from catching wise. Lately they preferred to strike at dusk, or at night, where they might have a better advantage against the now heavily armed Lone Star populace...

The meeting that lay ahead was the culmination of several months of careful negotiation, a conference that the Regent-General hoped never have to face. Pharynx was a soldier, not a politician, and he didn't know the first thing about proper decorum when meeting with the Sovereign of another country. Even so, it was the only means he could think of to preserve the fragile peace between the Badlands Hive and Equestria, so recently disturbed by the events in Canterlot and elsewhere.

The Equestrians would offer all their knowledge on the creatures responsible for throwing the Hives into disarray, and return several captured Badlands agents, in exchange for the Changeling's cooperation in tracking down and detaining agents of other hives. Especially what they termed the 'Violets', which had all but been confirmed to belong to the 'First Hive' in the rapidly destabilizing Griffon Empire.

They would also need to return several Equestrian citizens, which up until recently had been less-than-willing contributors of the nourishing love that all Changelings required to survive. Better to starve than to face the might of the Equestrian Army, and that was precisely what would happen should even one of the agreed upon persons fail to make the rendezvous. It was for their captives' benefit that the Changelings were walking as opposed to flying, as the captured people were hardly in any shape to fly on their own. As such, they were currently seated atop two dilapidated old horses, the only ones that could be spared for the journey.

Pharynx coughed heavily, immediately going for the water skin at his belt, which was nearly empty in its entirety. Squeezing the last desperate gulps of liquid into his mouth, he could only hope that the meeting place would soon come into sight. There wasn't much to see otherwise, just roaming crests and valleys of sand, with the occasional exception of large boulders or the sun bleached skeletal remains of some poor unfortunate animal. Why their forefathers had ever decided to settle in a desert of all places, somewhere literally called the 'Badlands', was entirely beyond him. Gradually, one of the hooded figures ahead of him slowed down, at least until Pharynx managed to come up alongside them.

"It shouldn't be long now." Thorax said in a painfully cheerful tone, and Pharynx could hardly keep from rolling his eyes. "Come now, Brother! Show some spirit! You're the Supreme Regent-General!" His brother was, of course, absolutely right. It wouldn't do for the Supreme Regent-General to allow himself to be afflicted by something so trivial as blindingly searing heat. For better or worse, Thorax had gradually grown into a more confident and capable aide-de-camp... It had widely been much of his work that was responsible for their current journey in the first place. "Do you suppose they'll have water waiting?" He asked in a quieter, more serious tone.

"I do... Whether we're able to partake is another matter entirely." Pharynx grunted, adjusting his belt as the group started up another tall sand dune. "You would be better qualified to answer in that respect." Thorax nodded, clasping his hands behind his back as they carried on. "Tell me once more of their Princess Celestia, if anything it shall keep my mind from wandering." His Brother nodded sagely, taking his own water skin from his belt and offering it to Pharynx, though the latter silently declined.

"By the accounts of our agents still embedded in Canterlot, she is a very reasonable person..." Thorax began, taking a swig of water for himself. "Though she was less than pleased when our agents became involved in the incident, for obvious reasons." The man returned the water skin to his belt, then rubbed at his chin, which had gradually taken on a small crop of stubble. "I believe she'd be amenable to offering us food in trade for iron, copper, and chromium. Our latest intelligence suggests that there's been a steady decline in available reserves." Pharynx nodded again, watching several of the guards as they crested the top of the dune... Rather than continue on, however, he was surprised to see them stop... There eyes focused on something in the distance.

After a few moments, he and Thorax likewise reached the top of the dune, followed shortly thereafter by the horses and their precious cargo. Perhaps half a mile or so away, on an area of desert that appeared to be comprised more of dry dirt than sand, Pharynx saw the distinct shape of a large white tent. It was flanked by several smaller such structures, and protected by a new form of fortification Pharynx hadn't seen before. Rather than a series of multiple sandbags, it was a single large cube of fabric and chicken wire, with the letters 'BDT' stenciled in blue.

A cluster of large tan Equestrian supply trucks were parked behind them, as well as several odd looking vehicles Pharynx was also unfamiliar with. They were fully enclosed, with a flatly angled front and an odd angled rear section. Several had bright orange patches of fabric affixed on the hoods, near a series of ventilation slits, while another had a pair of steer horns mounted above its windshield. Each had a man standing posted on a heavy machine gun, mounted to an unarmored turret at the center of the vehicle's roof.

The men and women that likewise stood guard behind the barriers wore strange uniforms, that made them rather difficult to fully spot at a distance. A large Equestrian flag was raised above it all, swaying gently in the unseen breeze. The arrival of the Changeling delegation didn't go unnoticed for long, as Pharynx noticed several lens glints from what had to be half a dozen sets of binoculars. Several more troops moved to take up positions outside the largest tent... Likely where the Princesses would be waiting.

"No sense keeping them waiting." Pharynx declared simply, adjusting the hood of his robe and signaling the others to advance. The approach of the Equestrian conference site was tense, as he wasn't sure whether or not the soldiers standing guard had orders to fire.

Would they realize this was the delegation to begin with, or might they think it sort of some dragon raiding ploy... Pharynx wouldn't have put it past the dragons to try such a trick, especially against such an otherwise well entrenched enemy force. Once again the disparity between Equestrian and Changeling technological advancement was on full display, what Pharynx wouldn't give for just half the trucks he saw among the tents.

"Remember, hands off your weapons." Thorax added firmly, speaking Pharynx's mind before he even knew that was the order he wanted to give. The Regent-General paused a moment, looking to a few of the more hardline members of the escort. They kept their swords sheathed at their belts, and none made a move for the matchlock rifled muskets slung over their shoulders.

Pharynx licked at his chapped lips, striding to the front of the delegation with Thorax at his side. The Equestrians stiffened at the approach, but thankfully they seemed content not to level their weapons at him. It was an arduous trek across that half-mile expanse, and there were several moments where Pharynx feared his legs might give out. He told himself it was simply from the difficult journey, but there was also a part of him that was nervous at the prospect of meeting in the open. It was an utterly alien concept for most Changelings, to face one's enemy without a disguise or some other plan to deceive them.

The front of the large tent opened as the delegation came to within twenty yards, prompting Pharynx to signal the others to come to a halt. From within the temple of canvas came an impressively tall matronly figure, adorned in similar white robes to Pharynx's own. She was easily six or seven feet tall, at least, with great expansive wings the color of fresh fallen snow. A glimmering golden crown rested atop her head, which was itself wreathed in a flowing ethereal field of magically colored hair. There was no doubt in any of their minds that this woman was Princess Celestia, and to Pharynx it seemed a horrible shame to call her such... Whether she went by the title of Princess or not was irrelevant, as for all outward appearances she was, in fact, a Queen.

A slightly shorter woman of equal beauty emerged behind Celestia, adorned in a gown of blue that seemed pulled directly from the night sky, with wings that matched remarkably well. The pitch black crown atop her head, coupled with her pallid complexion and flowing mane of starry hair, identified her quickly as Princess Luna. Were she a Changeling, she too would be worthy of the title of Queen. The two royals started towards Pharynx and Thorax, walking with absolute poise and grace. Two more figures meanwhile emerged from the tent, one of whom wore a distinct black respirator. This, and the eye-patch he sported, easily identified him as 'Director Orcus'. The other, more bookish fellow, was conversely unknown... It didn't really matter, Pharynx wasn't there to meet with him.

Pharynx and Thorax walked forward, reaching the Princesses at around the half-way point between the two contingents. In silence the quartet of representatives came to a stop, each surveying the other, obviously attempting to get a read on just what sort of people they were dealing with. Now that they were closer, the Regent-General could see the Equestrian's weapons more clearly. He'd expected bolt action rifles and bulky SMG-45s. Instead he found strange rifles with under-folding stocks and curved magazines, coupled with highly compact, all metal SMGs. Just from looking at them, it was clear these were the 'Rivet Guns' that'd become so feared by the dragons of this region.

He and his delegation wouldn't stand a chance, and it was immediately clear that if the Equestrians really wanted to fight, there wasn't much stopping them from wiping the group out in the first few seconds... He didn't blame them for being so heavily armed... Were Pharynx in a position to make demands of his own, he likely would've taken the same position. Without any further stalling, Pharynx dropped into a respectful bow, then rose and pushed the hood of his robe back from his head. It was an act that Thorax likewise carried out, at the conclusion of which Pharynx cleared his throat.

"I am General Pharynx, Supreme Commander of my Hive's armed forces, and chosen Regent of our Queen." Pharynx offered respectfully, before gesturing to his brother. "This is my brother, Ambassador Thorax." The man inwardly chuckled at the surprised look Thorax gained at his new title. In truth, having a General and his aide-de-camp carry out the proceedings would likely send the wrong message. Better to give the illusion that this wasn't purely a military delegation. "We thank you for your favorable interpretation of the unfortunate incident between our two peoples, and hope that this meeting will serve to ensure such unpleasantness never happens again."

Both Princesses nodded respectfully, though neither of them bowed, just as Pharynx had expected would be the case. From the looks of things, Princess Luna was obviously less than pleased with his greeting... Given the rather personal nature of the offense, however, that too was to be expected.

"It would seem we are not the only siblings to share in rule." Celestia offered with a gentle smile, clasping her hands behind her back. "I am Princess Celestia, this is my Sister, Luna." Luna nodded her head almost imperceptibly, looking at Pharynx with great intensity. "Have you brought the individuals as requested?" Pharynx nodded simply, then turned to the guards standing beside the horses. He signaled with a simple hand gesture, and the guards went about aiding the captive Equestrians in dismounting the creatures. The newly freed prisoners quickly rushed towards a group of waiting Equestrian soldiers. "First we will assess their physical condition, at which time your agents will be returned to you." Celestia gestured towards the large tent. "Your men are free to rest and recover using our facilities while we hold our discussion."

"Of course..." Pharynx nodded, and together the group made their way towards the tent. Director Orcus and the unidentified fellow stood off to the side, allowing both pairs of delegates to enter first, though they were quick to follow closely thereafter.

The tent itself had a freshly laid wooden floor, upon which sat a large conference table and six chairs. One side was marked by tiny receptacles for Equestrian flags, while the other bore the flag of his Hive. Resting at the center of this table, covered in a thin layer of condensed water, was a glass pitcher filled to the brim with ice water. Needless to say, Pharynx and Thorax wasted little time in taking their seats and helping themselves to a glass. The Princesses and their two male compatriots likewise took their seats, though Orcus took a moment to examine the matchlock residing on Pharynx's back with obvious fascination.

"Let's begin with the basics, shall we?" Celestia asked simply, Pharynx only nodded as he was to pre-occupied with quenching his mighty thirst. "We've initiated the prisoner exchange, I trust you've brought the necessary information regarding other agents your people have contacted within our borders?" Thorax reached into his robes and withdrew a rather sizable bundle of papers, tied together by a sturdy leather strap, which he proceeded to slide across the table to Director Orcus. "Excellent." The Director picked up the bundle, undoing the strap and glancing over the first few pages. "I suppose my primary question is, aside from our previous agreement, what is there that we can do to foster friendship between your Hive and Equestria?" Thorax was about to speak, but stopped himself, at least until he received a look of acceptance from his brother.

"Equestria has an extensive number of fruit orchards, correct?" The Ambassador inquired, to which Celestia gave a simple nod. "In addition to the crisis within the Hive-mind, our people are experiencing a considerable food shortage. As you know, Changelings require an intake of positive emotion to survive. Without going too far into details as to the how, we have a stockpile from which we've been drawing from." The man cast another look at Pharynx, but there was little the General could do to stop him...

"What you may not be aware of is that the amount required for a Changeling to remain healthy is comparatively small." Thorax further explained. "As we have no means of producing other sources of food, we've been forced to subsist on emotion entirely. This has played havoc on our stockpile." The man cast a brief look at the pitcher of water, then somewhat hesitantly poured himself another glass. "We propose a trade of iron ore and other metals found within our Hive in exchange for nectar."

Celestia hummed quietly, leaning back in her seat with a look of honest contemplation. Orcus, meanwhile, seemed more focused on the various papers he'd been handed, while Luna and the odd fourth man seemed content to simply stare at the two Changeling delegates. Pharynx did his best not to meet their glares, while Thorax seemed to visibly wilt beneath the intense scrutiny. Odds were they were each determining whether the offer of trade was some sort of trick, and Pharynx didn't really blame them for that. Even so, just looking at the soldiers outside was enough evidence to show that the Equestrians would have little trouble steamrolling his Hive if they so chose.

They could afford to equip their troops with automatic weapons and strange new rifles, not to mention their now obviously camouflaged uniforms and strange new vehicles. Given the uncertainty posed by dealing with other Changeling hives, hives that might very well one day attempt in invade the Badlands, Pharynx would much rather make the Equestrian's allies as opposed to enemies. Queen Chrysalis, though still in no shape to resume her rule, had agreed with that assessment.

"That may not be enough, especially with shipments resuming from the Empire." Celestia began, leaning back in her seat. "We plan on fully informing our people of the threat posed by these 'Violets' and other hives upon the conclusion of this meeting. You have to understand that there are many in Equestria that may come to view you as an enemy to be destroyed..." The woman glanced pointedly at Luna in particular.

"Most aren't yet aware of the disarray caused by the otherworldly creatures in our custody, or that your agents in Canterlot apparently were acting with the benefit of peace in mind." Celestia added tentatively. "It certainly isn't helped that several agents of other hives were discovered lurking among the National Council." Pharynx nodded reluctantly, a dismal sense of unease rising in his chest. "We will take steps to ensure they know the Badlands Hive is not our enemy, of course, but it could take time to convince some of the more... Defensive parties involved."

"I'm told that your network of tunnels is quite extensive. That you can dig a mile of tunnel in under two days, and that you seldom have troubles with collapses." Orcus suddenly spoke up, the harsh baritone of his voice modulating respirator catching the Regent-General slightly off guard. Pharynx took a moment to contemplate just what it was the man was angling towards. "We'd like to know more about the excavation of these tunnels. What methods do you employ to dig them so quickly, and with such stability."

"I can assure you, we have no intention of tunneling into Equestria." Thorax spoke up, but Orcus shook his head and set the papers on the table. The reports indicated that he was an intimidating presence, but they failed to describe just how disconcertingly eerie he was compared to the Princesses. Add to this the respirator and leather eye-patch, and it was difficult not to let even his smallest movement seem unsettling.

"You aren't the only hive we have to worry about, Ambassador." Orcus stated evenly, adjusting the tie of his uniform before starting to reach into his jacket. "Beyond the security concerns, such technology would be of vital interest to our own mining industry."

As a General, Pharynx suspected there was more to the request than security and mining concerns. His natural assumption was likely that the Equestrian military would covet such a technology for its ability to construct large scale underground complexes in reasonably short order. While most of his intelligence sources inevitably wound up devoted to finding the source of the corruption of the hive-mind, there were still occasional reports coming in regarding the difficulty of repairs and maintenance in a facility known only as 'Darkstar'. So odds were they wanted to replace it, and they'd want the help of his people in the process... Pharynx could work with that.

"I suppose we could supply you with the information regarding how we develop our tunnels." Pharynx conceded, leaning back in his own seat and taking another sip of that ever satisfying ice water. "I'm afraid that's all we could provide, the devices themselves are difficult for us to procure." Celestia nodded at the explanation, though Orcus and Luna appeared to remain unconvinced. "In exchange for that additional information, and the continuing peaceful normalization of relations between Equestria and my government, we would request something a bit more tangible." The General glanced about the room, then leaned upon the table. "Your assistance in the development of Changeling infrastructure. Roads, electricity, all the wonders of the industrial age." All eyes in the room went wide, even those of his brother Thorax, who looked at him in astonishment.

"That's a fairly large request, General. Equestria isn't looking to get in the business of 'uplifting' other nations." Celestia's tone was cautious, not an out and out refusal, but obviously she wasn't going to jump right in and agree. That she'd not overtly discounted his request was a victory in and of itself. Luna looked just as surprised at Celestia's tacit consideration as she was by the initial request, and though Pharynx sensed she very much wanted to tell him to leave, she nonetheless bit her tongue. "We shall need to take some time to discuss your proposal, if you would not mind a brief recess?" Pharynx smiled half-heartedly, then shrugged.

"Take as much time as you require, Princess." The General agreed, reclining in his seat as the Equestrian delegation stood from theirs. Without another word the four of them made their way out of the tent, leaving Pharynx and Thorax alone in the canvas shelter, shielded from the sun above. Thorax for his part turned in his seat, face screwing up into a mixture of disbelief and concern, his jaw hanging just a little bit slack.

"Has the Queen's madness spread to you as well, Brother?" The younger man asked, but Pharynx very simply shook his head and took another sip of his water. "We have already worked out a reasonable agreement with the Equestrians, one that will ensure we are not immediately blamed should another attack take place, why would you jeopardize that with such an extreme request?" Pharynx understood the concern in his brother's voice, and with a gentle hand he patted the man on the shoulder, though this did little to assuage the latter's startled aspect.

"Is it that extreme?" Pharynx responded philosophically, rising from his seat and beginning to pace. "You've endured the trek from the hive to this place, do you believe that journey would be any easier for a group of wooden wagons? Wagons likely drawn by anemic horses, or our own people?" Thorax inhaled deeply, as if searching for some means of responding, though all he could do was shake his head. "Logistics, dear Brother... That was the underpinning fault in every plan I ever conceived of for the invasion of Equestria. We have no roads, no factories, none of the modern amenities these Equestrians take for granted..."

"Our people live in caves, Thorax. Caves!" Declared the General as he unslung the rifled musket from his back, examining it distastefully. "We arm ourselves with matchlocks, while they wield repeating fire arms of all shapes and sizes." The man leaned the weapon against the table, hooking his thumbs into his belt. "Yes, our people will survive if we abide by the treaty in its current state, but is that all we want for our people? Survival? It will be a return to the status quo, to mere subsistence. We will be forever at the mercy of our neighbors to maintain their treaty." He himself leaned against the table, once more glancing about the table.

"You've discussed this matter with the Queen?" Thorax's tone was pointed, to which Pharynx responded with a dismissive wave of his hand, whether he'd spoken with the Queen or not was irrelevant. He was the Regent, he could rule in her stead without her approval. "Brother..." Pharynx sighed deeply, rubbing at his temples whilst Thorax took on another thoughtful expression. "I agree with you, truly I do, but we have now the chance to secure food for our people, and clemency from the Equestrian's wrath should another hive act against them." Pharynx returned to his seat with an audible huff. "It doesn't all need to be done at once, Pharynx. First we secure food, then with patience, they might see fit to grant us further boons, they may even build the roads for us." The General shook his head.

"What you describe is vassalization." Pharynx stated flatly, drumming his fingers upon the table. "If we are to be an independent civilization, if we are truly to rise above the other Hives and stand as equals with the rest of the world, we'll need to build that civilization ourselves." The General looked somberly at the table. "I am not averse to the help of the Equestrians, mind you, but it will be our hands that lay our roads and build our cities." The man glanced at the matchlock leaning against the table, a grim chuckle escaping his lips. "Besides, what I am asking of them is no more than what the Queen wanted when she first selected me as Supreme General." Thorax looked as if he was about to respond, but no response came.

Time passed with the two of them sitting in quiet contemplation, listening to the sound of the tent's fabric fluttering in the wind. Pharynx knew he was gambling with his people's safety, and while he wouldn't be surprised if his request was rejected, he suspected that he would ultimately come out victorious. Luna might not have trusted them, but Celestia tended to be the one that made decisions regarding policy. She was sympathetic to those less fortunate than her own subjects, and while perhaps he wouldn't get everything he wanted, the Hive would likely still get something out of it... Something that could make life for his people just a little bit better. Perhaps whatever small concession he received would be enough kick start the Hive into bettering itself on its own.

Celestia stepped away from the tent flap, feeling slightly uneasy with her decision to eavesdrop on the two delegates. Given their stunning ability to blend in or disguise themselves, however, she'd felt it necessary to ensure the current summit wasn't being used as a ploy to insert more of their agents. For all she knew, they might've known she was listening and their discussion was yet another ruse atop a ploy, but Celestia doubted that was the case. Adjusting the crown atop her head, she quickly moved to join her Sister and the others, whom had gone beneath an awning erected beside one of the smaller tents. From there they had a decent view of the Changeling guards, who were all jockeying to get water from a distinctly tan Army water truck.

Luna, as expected, appeared patently unhappy at what just transpired within the conference tent. Orcus and Piercing Gaze, on the other hand, were discussing something amongst themselves. The latter two had been most busy in the wake of the incident in Canterlot, and the less that was said about the ill fated ITC Drongo the better. There was no choice now but to go public with the news of the Changeling menace, especially as several highly ranked staff members of various Councilors were discovered to be infiltrators. It could only be kept quiet for so long before rumors took root...

The grand majority of the infiltrators in the National Council hailed from other hives, agents representing half a dozen of the believed dozen or more hives known to exist. It was impossible to tell just how many infiltrators managed to evade capture, or what secrets they might've pass along to their respective masters. More troubling was the continuing investigation into members of the Nocturne Agency and other branches of the Equestrian military.

The number of known accomplices was relatively low, thankfully, and it would prove far more difficult for those that ran off to remain hidden for long. The Mole, however, continued to evade capture. Just when they thought they had him, or her, it would turn out he'd led them on a goose chase.

Of those suspected or otherwise implicated in the various schemes of the differing hives, none would come forward as to their involvement in the disappearance of the stolen artifacts. All were at one point or another interrogated by Orcus himself, and yet despite offers of leniency or even immunity, not a single perpetrator would admit to their role. The Director of course made numerous requests of the Crown to make use of 'unconventional' methods to extract the information, all of which were rejected.

The search for the artifacts themselves was at least partially over, with half of the less dangerous items being recovered by a Special Task Force headed by Piercing Gaze. The outstanding artifacts, however, were lacking in the way of clues or leads. The apparent presence of a Griffon submarine at the sinking of Drongo, which was reported as officially having gone down on account of the storm, turned many eyes to the Griffon Empire. Whether the Empire itself was involved, or merely the 'Violet Hive' operating in their territory, remained to be seen. The former seemed more likely, given the involvement of the submarine, but Celestia wasn't discounting anything just yet.

What was abundantly clear to Celestia was the simple fact that at least one major Hive shared a land border with Equestria, and while on its own she had no doubt Equestria would emerge victorious in a conflict, she had to take into account the other hives. It was indeed only that reasoning that brought her to the desert in the first place. If Equestria could count on its southern border being secure, it could focus its efforts wherever else they might be needed... Not just in regards to the Changelings, but the various other crises unfolding around the world. Constant vigilance was the price of maintaining global peace, but Equestria could only be in so many places at once.

For her part, and the part of her chosen compatriots, the last thing she wanted to think about was different places. All of them had places they would rather be, or more accurately a single place in mind, that being a far away island... Preferably with cake and balloons as well. Despite their best efforts, today was the only day that was acceptable for the Changelings.

It must've been exceptionally frustrating to Celestia's sister, given the nature of the date as it pertained to her daughter. The fact that her duties required she spend it parlaying with people at least partly responsible for forcing her daughter into protective exile, all while in the middle of a desert during one of the hottest summers on record, had seen Luna's dander rise. Celestia would do her best not to allow that last part to alter her judgment when it came to whatever decision they reached...

"Well? What did they say?" Luna asked as Celestia arrived at the group, a bit too impatiently for latter's liking, not that she let that show. The Princess licked her lips, casting an uncertain glance at the large tent, then back to the trio that awaited her response. "You cannot honestly be thinking we grant there request, can you?" Celestia took a moment, trying to think of how she could delicately word her response, but she never got that chance... Merely by pausing she'd given Luna her answer, which resulted in the younger woman's face turning scarlet. "Of course you want to help them... Need I remind you they are our enemy!" Snarled Luna, crossing her arms.

"I didn't say that I wanted to help them." Celestia's tone was defensive but calm, her hands clasped behind her back. "Isn't it important to note that we aren't entirely sure that this particular hive is our enemy." Luna's jaw dropped, the flowing stars of her hair taking on a distinctly reddish hue while her wings tensed visibly. Orcus raised an eyebrow at Celestia's declaration, holding up the bundle of documents he'd taken with him from within the tent. "Director, you're more informed of their operations within Equestria than I am. Do the papers match up with their claims?" The man cast a brief apologetic look at Luna, which only resulted in increased agitation on her part.

"Between what we've managed to verify on our own, the information supplied by captured agents, and these documents...?" Orcus tucked the papers into his jacket, then emitted a long drawn out sigh. "Pharynx knows his people wouldn't last long on their own in a drawn out fight, especially now that the dragons are looking to push into the Badlands. He's taking steps to stay in our good graces accordingly."

"While his people aren't 'advanced' as we would define the word, they've got plenty of ore and niche technologies to offer us in exchange." The Director further explained. "I think if we help his people along and secure a non-agression pact, or more ideally a mutual-defensive pact, Pharynx could make for a vital ally." Luna rounded on the man, who once again took a slow wheezing breath. "At least one hive has access to some very powerful, very very nasty magic, Luna. Need I remind you of that? We'll need as many friends as we can get."

"What would keep them from breaking the treaty? Their word?" Luna countered, to which Orcus responded with a simple nod of his head. "These are Changelings, it is their nature to deceive." The woman scowled, glaring at the meeting tent as if it were a den of vipers.

Celestia knew there was more playing on her sister's emotions than a mistrust of the Changelings, but the fact that she was allowing so much emotion to show through her typically stoic mask was worrying. They'd all been screened ahead of the meeting, so Celestia had no reason to suspect Luna of being an imposter... The vitriolic distrust the woman displayed had to be quite potent indeed.

"What is to keep them from stabbing us in the back when they've reached a position of equal strength to our own?" Luna asked sharply, Celestia considered that for a moment, but the looks she saw on Piercing and Orcus' face told her they didn't view that as very likely.

"Luna..." Piercing said gently, placing a hand on the woman's arm. "You don't know just how precarious our position is right now... What we saw aboard Drongo is but a tithe of the evil that could be unleashed upon us without warning." The woman looked at him coldly at first, but gradually the anger in her eyes dissipated. The man then pointed to the Changeling soldiers, all of whom carried matchlocks and swords of one sort or another. That, coupled with their desert garb, reminded Celestia of some of the newsreels she'd seen of tribal North Zebrican caravaneers... Albeit in color, as opposed to black and white.

"These Badlanders are hardly in a position to oppose us militarily, and even with our help they won't be for some time." Piercing continued more forcefully, looking about at the various soldiers of Equestria's own army. "Every soldier, every rifle, every bullet we devote to keeping an eye on them is one less we'll have when the real monsters show themselves." He looked Luna in the eyes, and despite the punishing heat his voice was as frigid as the desolate Frozen North.

"I mean monsters, love... Real. Bloody. Monsters. As bad as, if not worse than, what you've described seeing in Orzel's nightmares." Piercing tucked his hands into the pockets of his suit, sighing quietly. "Guns, ammunition, armor and vehicles, they don't all just grow on trees. Scaling up production as drastically as we have still requires vast amounts of raw material, not to mention our public works and the continued clean up of the milk solutes. With everything that's going on in the the Griffon Empire, I doubt if we'll have enough resources to truly commit. The Badlanders could fill the gap."

Celestia wished she could say she disagreed with Piercing, as she hated to think of trade in such blunt terminology, but... He was right. She recalled a conversation she'd had with Orzel, not long after her arrival... When they'd discussed airships. The girl had voiced a concern that Equestria shouldn't sit idle, waiting for threats to emerge before acting against them. Celestia had honestly believed there was no reason to put so much effort or resources into things like the military, it was better to make trade deals and act cooperatively than sharpen spears... Yet her niece had been right, in a sense.

New threats were emerging, threats Celestia hadn't even considered possible a few years ago, which couldn't be handled with trade deals or cooperation. Not all Hives would be so easily appeased with Nectar, and even if they could, Equestria could hardly supply them all.

"Forgive me if I am unenthused by the idea of assisting the development of some of those responsible for my daughter's seclusion." Luna ground out, glaring at the sandy soil below. "Fine..." Celestia exhaled a sigh of relief, patting her sister on the shoulder, though Luna pulled away in obvious frustration. "I suppose I can set aside my feelings, if only because the Badlanders have so far been the only ones to come to us with intentions of peaceful coexistence." The woman pursed her lips. "I will leave the particulars of this portion of the treaty to you, dear Sister... I fear I would say something unkind, were I personally involved." Celestia started to retort, but stopped as Luna quietly departed from the group, making her way towards one of the tents... The one particularly set aside to house the mobile Arcane Beacon.

"I'll talk to her..." Piercing offered awkwardly, shrugging his shoulders before hurrying to catch up with the increasingly distant Luna. Celestia sighed heavily, looking upon Orcus as the man took yet another slow breath. Despite his apparent agreement to the proposal, the Princess had a sinking suspicion there was something he'd chosen to hold back in the presence of the others. The brow above his eye-patch quirked upwards as Piercing and Luna were finally out of earshot.

"I think it would be wise to commence an immediate project to construct two new facilities." The man stated bluntly, tucking one of his hands into the pocket of his suit jacket. "One to house exclusively our most dangerous artifacts, far more secure than Darkstar, and another for the purpose of coordinating a national defense. We already have a basic set up in the Strategic Intelligence Response Center, but we need more. In order to do so in the most timely fashion, the tunneling technology must be non-negotiable." Celestia stared at him with considerable surprise, watching as he tucked his hands into his pockets. "Something about the documents Pharynx has provided leaves me concerned."

"Concerned enough that you didn't immediately inform Luna or Piercing?" Celestia's tone was worried, and rightfully so, considering Orcus had made a promise to be upfront with them all going forward. The Director nodded sagely, gaining a look Celestia wasn't quite used to seeing at all. It was difficult to decipher, but the general impression she got was that Orcus was unsure whom else he could inform. "Well... What is it?"

"We've totally cut off the dead Exos from their hive-mind, yet it seems their influence remains, at least in the mind of Pharynx's Queen." Orcus began, eye roving slowly towards the changeling guards, who were now enjoying the sweet pleasure of cool refreshing water. "What if they weren't the root cause, but rather just the prelude to something else, something more elaborate?" Celestia didn't really comprehend what Orcus meant by that, and he obviously sensed that well enough to continue.

"A Snow-Class was submarine present at the sinking of ITC Drongo. A Snow-Class submarine has been allegedly responsible for every sinking off the Bugbear Coast, including the Aleksa..." Orcus explained with an unsettled glint in his eye. "Now, we assumed it was there to monitor our operation, but... We never found the summoner, or the missing books. Furthermore, we know the Changelings have infiltrated our government, even while we were looking for them. What about a government too caught up in its own instability to notice? Instability that has become markedly worse over the past year." Celestia's heart skipped a beat.

"If Changelings have infiltrated the Griffon Empire..." The Princess began, feeling an icy chill run down her spine. "In all the incidents with the Northern Provinces so far, it's been the Empire that seemingly instigates or otherwise escalates the conflict." Orcus nodded simply, taking another puff on his cigarette. "Either the Iron Bloods seize control and the Empire is too weak to come to our aid as a result, or the Empire stomps out the Iron Bloods and unwittingly under the direction of the Changelings, turns on us for siding against them." The Princess could see that was precisely what Orcus was thinking, simply by the glitter of his eye. "You don't want the bunker just to fight against the Changelings..." Celestia concluded, and once again the Director nodded.

"It also means that every member of the Crown, or anyone else of importance for that matter, is in far more danger than we first realized." Orcus' words renewed the frigid terror creeping down Celestia's back, in spite of the punishing solar heat. "Remember how this meeting started, the attempted assassination of your niece. The assassination of Luna's heir, either carried out by Griffon operatives or those posing as them, would lead the entire country to call for war. Luna would go absolutely out of her skull, we would have no choice but to retaliate."

The thought of someone coming after her family to replace them was bad enough, but the extra step of killing them as well? The incident in Canterlot had caught her and Luna completely off guard, even after taking steps to prepare for it. It was fine if someone wanted to come after Celestia or Luna, they were no strangers to such things, but the risk wasn't restricted to them any longer... If anything, Orzel had an even larger target painted on her back now, the lynchpin on which the entire Violet plan could rest... Not only would her assassination incite the Black Crowns, the reaction of Luna and even Celestia herself to such an unthinkable act would be difficult to temper... Perhaps even enough to bring about a reappearance of Nightmare Moon.

"I figure that's the last thing Luna needs to hear right now." Orcus finished while reaching into his jacket to withdraw a fresh cigarette, though he was quite incapable of smoking it now. Without a word, he merely offered it to Celestia. She looked at it in surprise... She really hated the damn things, but there was a considerable amount of stress weighing on her, and no cakes or other confections in close proximity. Tentatively, and with great reluctance, she accepted the cigarette, as well as the lighter that followed soon after. Celestia coughed heavily as she inhaled the smoke, her features going somewhat green.

"Just when we think we've got one problem sorted out, another crops up to take its place." Orcus declared somewhat regretfully, watching his Princess with evident interest as she became accustomed to the bitter tasting smoke. "I've been doing this almost as long as you have..." The Director shook his head. "Never gets any damn easier." He gestured towards the meeting tent. "I'd recommend we keep this smoke break to a minimum, your Highness... There's another matter that we'll need to discuss after we're done here. Piercing was a little light on the details, but there's been some activity regarding the the Arcane Beacon. Given the timing, I'm not entirely sure its coincidental."

Celestia nodded in agreement, exhaling a cloud of her own repugnant smoke. Try as she might to change her own mind, to put such horrible worries out of her consciousness, she couldn't... The harmony she'd worked so hard to preserve throughout the centuries was in great jeopardy, and this time she wasn't sure a plucky group of friends could fix it... Hopefully the day wouldn't get any worse.

As they strolled through the middle of Canterlot's Statesman Park, Cadence and Shining Armor found themselves bathed in the late afternoon sun. The park was a pristine jewel of green, among a seemingly endless sprawl of gray concrete and black asphalt. Here birds and squirrels predominated, gliding and scampering about without a care for the dangerously complex world that surrounded them. It'd served as an ideal place to take Twilight whenever Cadence thought the two needed to get a little fresh air. The park continued to play a role in her life, even after Twilight passed the age where she needed a babysitter.

It was beside its duck pond that she and Shining Armor had first admitted their feelings for one another, where Cadence finally managed to move beyond her shyness and come into her own as Princess of Love. They'd once again returned at the conclusion of their first date, and once more after, to make up with one another in the wake of a particularly nasty argument. Their visits had become rather infrequent of late, the result of their respective careers, but the park was never too far from either of their minds. The sentiment that arose between the two whenever they did manage to stroll through was no less potent.

A late summer breeze came rustling through lush verdant treetops, just cool enough to be pleasant without being uncomfortable. The air was no less rife with the typical smell of the city, but the stench of automobile exhaust was tempered by a mixture of greenery and a food truck, parked on a nearby corner. Hand in hand, side by side, this was one of those moments where Cadence and Shining could enjoy one of the rare respites afforded to both of them in recent days.

The incident at the Castle, and the arrest of several 'infiltrators' posing as Councilors, left in their wake a sense of unease in the public consciousness, especially seeing as much of the information was still being held close to the vest. There was a drastic need for decisive action on the part of the Crown, but 'decisive' didn't always mean rapid, as the Princesses agreed it was best to get all their proverbial ducks in a row beforehand.

Equestria's political landscape had shifted drastically in the time since the Guard Tower incident, with the Black Crown party now poised to dominate the now reconvened National Council. An inquest committee had been formed on the order of Senior-Councilor Fancy Pants, aimed at getting to the bottom of what in blazes had just happened. That unfortunately required the Crown to bring him into the loop about the Changeling threat, among other things, in the hopes that he would drop the matter... He didn't.

Instead he'd made clear his belief that the Equestrian people needed to know about the Changelings, but he also understood that it would likely be best to have more information before doing so. Thus, he'd given the Crown some leeway, in that he wouldn't go to the press on his own right away. He would wait for negotiations with the Badlands Hive to conclude, and allow Celestia herself to break the news to the public. Hopefully, if things went well at the summit, Celestia could come to the people with some good news to temper the bad. At the very least, it would show that not all Changelings were life-sucking monsters bent on world domination, just... Most of them.

Still, there was no escaping that the status quo had changed, and Fancy Pants had been leading the Council accordingly. Work was progressing steadily on the Trans-National Highways program, as was an expansion of the Civil Defense Agency, both of which were deemed of vital importance to Equestria's defense. Not only would a larger overland highway system facilitate greater transfer of goods, it could also be used by the military to more easily deploy troops, or as an impromptu runway for military aircraft.

A year ago, the 'Military Modernization Act' would've died in committee, before it ever reached the National Council floor. Now, with the Council firmly in Black Crown control, the Ministry of Defense would be seeing its largest budgetary increase since the Nightmare War. It would now receive two percent of the nation's GDP, a staggering twenty-two Billion Bits. Yes, billion, with a 'B'. The Crown had also pledged to match this sum, with Celestia providing the majority of the funds from her own pocket. While it only took a small chunk out of the Princess's massive fortune, steadily built upon for the past thousand years, it was the largest amount of money ever contributed to the defense budget by the Crown.

Forty-four-Billion Bits in total, a number that easily eclipsed the entire Griffon GDP, all on Defense. These funds would go towards financing the purchase of new arms and ammunition, such as the newly adopted PM-72A, or the VR-73, as well as vehicles, uniforms, body armor, support equipment, research and development, plus 'Domestic Defense Infrastructure' like the Trans-National Highway and the installation of ADATA stations along the East and West Coasts. As further incentive to draw in prospective recruits, the bill also created a grant to pay the tuition of any member of the military seeking a college education, either during or after completion of their service.

Lastly, efforts were being made to see to it that the remnants of Discord's chocolate milk rain were finally cleared away. Equestria would need as much food stockpiled as possible if it was to survive what many in S-COM feared to be the greatest threat to its survival since the Nightmare War. This had all resulted in a great deal of work for Cadence and Shining Armor... Mostly Cadence. She was the only Princess in a position to really do much of anything at present, with Orzel acting as Designated Survivor, Blueblood serving in the Council, and both of her Aunts meeting with the Badlands Hive delegation... This didn't even include the problems faced by S-COM itself.

With knowledge of the Changeling threat set to be released in the coming weeks, S-COM would soon find itself without purpose, as it'd originally been formed as a means of minimizing those 'in the know'. The plan was to disband the committee and turn whatever duties persisted afterwards over to another agency. The first choice was the naturally Nocturne Agency, but that particular institution hadn't exactly had the best track record over the past year or so.

This was further amplified by the fact that, on paper, its purpose was to protect the Princesses and handle national intelligence. It was therefore decided that the Agency would need to be reorganized, split into two separate branches, all still reporting to the Director and Princess Luna. One half would handle intelligence gathering and espionage of a conventional nature, and the other would be dedicated solely to combating the paranormal, and protecting the Princesses from such paranormal threats...

The Agency had existed for over a thousand years without a major change, and while its forces were formidable, it too suffered from that age old malady that afflicted virtually every government entity in Equestria. It's basic structure was virtually an antique. It'd become too bloated, with too many working parts, too much bureaucracy, to a point where one proverbial hand didn't know what the other was doing. It was widely believed that this was what'd allowed enemy agents and traitors to insulate themselves so well within...

S-COM, the Nocturne Agency, and all its other subordinate groups would therefore likely be consolidated into two separate organizations. The 'Strategic Intelligence Directorate', which would handle diplomatic and military intelligence gathering operations, and the 'Office of Paranormal Threat Interdiction and Containment', whose name was fairly self explanatory, though it also merged the various Sub-Agencies under the umbrella of the CRDD, or 'Covert Research and Development Division'. OPTIC and SID would work in tandem with each other, but each would specialize in their particular field, only overlapping when necessary.

One offshoot that wouldn't remain under Nocturne control, the 'Strategic Intelligence Response Center', would be expanded into the 'National Aerospace Defense Command', which would be shunted off to a facility operated by the Army Air Corps at a location that had yet to be determined. That period of AAC operation would only be temporary, as in accordance with the newly passed MMA, the AAC wasn't going to exist for much longer.

It would instead become the Equestrian Sovereign Air Force, a separate branch from the Army proper, which would assume control over the majority of military aviation in Equestria... At least, as far as land based aviation was concerned, as Naval and Lunar Marine Aviation still fell under the purview of their respective military branches. The ESAF would be given its own budget, of a far more considerable size than the AAC was allotted, and inherit all the 'AABs' and their respective squadrons currently in operation, which would in turn be dubbed 'AFBs' from then on.

The AAC-ESAF branch migration was an entirely separate issue from the OPTIC-SID reorganization, which had more to do with determining which of the two intelligence agencies, if any, would be subordinate to the other. Separate from each other or not, the creation of the ESAF was just as confusing, just as frustrating, and just as much Cadence's responsibility until the other Princesses returned.

As Cadence knew next to nothing about military organization or pruning bureaucratic overgrowth, she'd called upon Shining Armor's much more considerable understanding for the former, and sent along some of the more confusing bureaucratic tangles to her cousin Orzel for the latter. Orzel had in turn promised to send a reply with potential solutions as soon as she'd worked her way through the literal mountain of paperwork. Even with her ability to speed read, it'd likely take a couple days. That meant that, for the moment, it'd been Cadence and Shining Armor running the country during this crucial phase on their own. Together they'd been working to find a means to make all the necessary changes with as little upheaval and chaos as possible.

That was why after having spent the past eight hours alternating between various meetings and a conference held in a windowless room, stewing with the smell of tobacco smoke, burnt coffee, and sweat, the Princess found herself so eager to enjoy her walk in the park. Looking over at Shining Armor, Cadence couldn't help but be impressed... He'd certainly lived up to his namesake. There was no way she'd be able to do everything she'd done so far on her own... Honestly. It was just another reason why she refused the title of 'Crown-Princess', and why she pitied her cousin for having accepted it...

"How you're able to keep all that stuff in your head, I'll never know." Cadence commented, sidling up beside Shining as they neared a small paved area beside the park's pond, home to numerous tables and chairs. There were few people here, enjoying their lunches... A single couple, that looked vaguely familiar, sat together close to the waters edge. "OPTIC-SID, CRDD, SIRC-NADC, AAC-ESAF... It's crazy! It's actually crazy!" Shining Armor chuckled softly at that, rolling his shoulders... He almost looked nervous, though about what Cadence had no idea.

"Because you're a normal person, and all these agencies and organizations aren't run by normal people." The man declared simply, tucking his hands into the pockets of his white uniform trousers. "Just remember that in some cases, we have literally over a thousand years of statues to go through and review. In the end, it's all like a great big tangled rope. Eventually, if you follow it long enough and undo enough knots, you'll get it straightened out." The man patted his chest, causing several of the ribbons pinned to his red uniform jacket to jostle slightly. "Good thing you came to me when you did. I wouldn't have made Captain of the Canterlot Royal Guard without at least a working knowledge of the language."

Cadence hummed thoughtfully, taking a seat at one of the tables, watching the ducks swim about in their little adorable families... The way they scooted around, dipping their bills into the water every now and then, otherwise fluttering their wings. There were times when the Princess envied that sort of... Simplicity. Times where she wished she'd never accepted a crown, where she'd just stayed 'Cadence'. No titles, no fortune, no need to worry herself with matters of state...

Again her thoughts strayed to Orzel, the 'Crown-Princess'... Undoubtedly, Luna and Celestia would accept were she to voice a desire not to bear the title, but... It seemed unlikely she'd ever do such a thing. Sometimes Cadence wondered how a seventeen year old girl could hope to make such a decision for herself, a decision that might literally last an eternity... She wondered if maybe her aunts had been a little premature in announcing Orzel's ascension, if maybe they should've given the girl more time to really thing things over...

One thing was certain, whenever Cadence had children of her own, she wouldn't be so quick to rush and give them a title. Cadence was always more inclined towards more artistic pursuits, rather than the complex and often contradictory field of politics.. Music, theater, painting, fashion, all existed to be explored. It was hard not to think that everyone felt the same way. Maybe, if more people felt like that, the world might not be as crazy as it was now... She'd give her children all the love and attention in the world, and try to show them that love was more powerful than hate, that the humble olive branch could solve more problems than bullets ever could.

Unfortunately, her wishful thinking was only that. The world Orzel would inherit in the event the worse came to pass was probably more like the one she'd left behind than anyone realized... It was another reason Cadence had been working so hard of late, because as much as she wanted a world of love, a world of art and passion, she wanted a world that would be safe for her children... A world more like the park in which she relaxed, rather than the cruel city that surrounded it.

Thoughts of family and children brought her thoughts back to Shining, who as of yet had failed to take his own seat... If anything he was pacing, and his features were set in the deepest sense of nervousness. For a few moments the Princess wondered if maybe he was aware of some newly developing emergency, but at no time had either of them been apart long enough for news to arrive to him, but not to her. So her mind strayed to other theories...

She'd spotted an odd blemish on his skin that she hadn't noticed before, then again it might've been entirely normal, she wasn't usually in a position to see that particular section of skin with the lights on. Nonetheless she'd insisted he go have it checked, and had yet to hear any word one way or the other as to if it was something to be concerned about. No... He would've told her already were that the case.

Then she pondered where they stood now. The park, the site of so many important events in their relationship thus far... Lately he'd been acting a little secretive, but not in an entirely alarming way. Now Cadence wondered if Shining might've brought her here because he didn't want to make a scene. Was he going to break up with her? That thought withered almost immediately as it emerged, because Cadence knew with a great deal of certainty that their relationship was about as solid as a relationship could be. She was the Princess of Love, after all. Still, it didn't explain his nervousness, or the reason he'd suggested they come here. Either way, Cadence got the feeling that one way or another she'd receive her answer soon enough.

"I... Uh..." Shining began, clearing his throat and quickly moving to stand in front of Cadence. "Look, you know I'm not really good at this emotional stuff, but I've got something I've been meaning to say." He explained bluntly, before chuckling in an all too nervous fashion. Glancing to his left and right, ensuring they were out of earshot of the other park attendees, he cleared his throat again.

"I've just been thinking a lot, between the Changelings, the Griffons, the Dragons, and whatever the Tartarus else is out there..." Shining began a little more seriously, though that quickly faded into an almost haggered nervousness. "The world could blow up at any second, and I don't want to put this off anymore, so I guess what I'm trying to say is I love you?" Cadence leaned back in her seat, smiling sweetly at his flustered, and somewhat rapid, statement of affection.

"It's more than that... So much more!" Shining resumed pacing, though this time confined to a smaller area. "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met in my entire life, inside and out. You're sexy, you're funny, you just light up every room you walk into! I come home lately and you're there, I wake up in the morning and you're there, and on the days where you aren't? Everything sucks! At least, y'know, until I see you again." The man sighed heavily. "The point is. I love you, you love me. We love each other, and we have for a really long time, so why don't we just get married?" He stated bluntly. "Seriously, like... For real. I want to marry you, do you want to marry me?"

Cadence stared at him, her jaw hanging slightly agape, beyond words... In the distant reaches of her mind, still lingering on her cousin, she recalled a theoretical concept for a certain type of explosive... Not meant to kill or destroy, but to stun and disorient... A 'flash-bang'... While no such explosive device had gone off, Cadence nonetheless felt as if she was on the receiving end, with Shining's request serving just as effectively as a form of 'verbal' flash-bang. It honestly took Cadence a moment or two to recover. Shining meanwhile took note of her silence, then looked at himself.

"Shit! I forgot!" He cried, fumbling around in his pockets and hastily dropping to a knee. "I mean, shoot... Sorry... I didn't want to swear, and I totally forgot the kneeling thing, but not the ring. I have a ring, see? It's right he-" Cadence cut him off, grabbing him by his chin...

She pulled him in close, closing her eyes and bestowing upon him the deepest most passionate kiss the two had likely ever shared. Unsurprisingly, he was more than happy to reciprocate. In spite of all that muscle, all that strength and military discipline, Shining Armor was and continued to be the biggest, softest, most loveable marshmallow Cadence had encountered. She had no doubt that when the chips were down, he could lean an entire army into battle without so much as a hint of uncertainty.

In matters of the heart, as he'd so eloquently understated, he was as awkward and as dorky as a schoolboy, and the Cadence loved him all the more for it. He was the person she wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of her days with, were such a thing possible, the person with whom she'd honestly hoped to start a family with. His evasiveness in recent days made far more sense... He was working up the nerve, and now he'd finally done it. Whatever happened next, no matter how complex or crazy the world became, Cadence had no doubt now that they'd make it through all the stronger for it.

"So..." Shining began as the kiss ended, a great big dopy grin spreading across his features. "I'll take that as a maybe then?" Cadence smacked him playfully, then kissed him again...

The dawn of Orzel's date of birth had arrived at last, not that she could see the sun through the dense dark clouds and driving tropical rain currently pounding Pulauapi. It was official now. As of midnight that morning, she'd turned seventeen years of age. One year closer to adulthood, one year closer to her formal coronation as a fully fledged Princess, and all the perils that would bring. That was, assuming of course, that the Changeling threat didn't escalate to a point where she was forced to ascend to the throne ahead of time.

Typically, in Equestria at least, the anniversary of one's birth was celebrated with a departure from the normal routine, in favor of something more indulgent. To this end, Orzel had allowed herself a whole half-hour to sleep in... It was just over a year ago when she'd come to Equestria, and the circumstances under which she'd arrived cast the entire day in different, dimmer, light. Thinking about that somewhat grim anniversary did little to lift her spirits, one of the many reasons she'd hoped to minimize the number of people that knew about it.

Szafirian birthdays were already somewhat dreary affairs, especially in households like Orzel's... It marked one year closer to the age of conscription, among other things, and really that was its only purpose. A countdown, a means by which the state determined who was and wasn't old enough to join the ranks of the Imperial Legion. Those few gifts that were exchanged were purely utilitarian in nature, aimed at aiding the recipient in their future life of service to the state.

Members of the warrior caste typically received arms, or other pieces of equipment that would benefit them on the field of battle. In Orzel's case, these gifts were restricted to items that would help her to serve as a better homemaker... Brooms and dusters, flatware and cutlery, pots and pans. Prior to the fall of Cesarski, she had hoped that this year might've been a little different. Mother and Father had stated that they'd at least attempt to purchase a pair of spectacles for her. In hindsight, Orzel doubted if they would've been powerful enough to correct for her severe impairment. All their scrimping and saving would likely have amounted to nothing more than marginal improvement.

She missed her parents, just as much as she missed Luna, Celestia, and all her adoptive family members in Equestria. Missing them was nothing new, she still thought about them every day, but... This was different. Birthdays without Father weren't uncommon, he was regularly at sea, after all... Birthdays without Sokol, however...? That was all too new. Normally Orzel would awaken to the smell of Racuchy, a rare treat similar to Equestrian 'Pancakes', typically stuffed with apple slices. Considering the cost of sugar, flour and apples, they reserved only for the most special of occasions.

From there she'd make her way downstairs to join her Mother in the kitchen, and together the two of them would discuss what the coming year might bring... The discussion undoubtedly would've been aimed at getting Orzel to choose between the two prospective suitors, Bazyli or Yuri, followed by a talk about setting up a wedding ceremony a day or so after next year's birthday. The intervening year would be spent formalizing the agreement between the two houses, and allowing for Orzel and whomever she chose of the two to get to know one another better. All under the stalwart supervision of a chaperone, of course.

Though the thought of such a conversation unsettled her, it was impossible for Orzel not to want at least one more chance to talk to her Mother... To tell her how much she loved her, how much she missed her, how the sacrificed that'd been made ensured that Orzel's life would be better now than it ever would've been before. She would've given just as much to see her Father again, to show him all of the models she'd made, or to hear one of his stories from an adventure on a distant sea... Orzel could've sworn he'd told her so many stories that she'd heard them all at least once, but then he'd surprise her with something new. The young woman didn't really care whether they were all true or not.

Staring out her window at the typhoon that raged against the mountain, she could picture in her mind her Father, the steadfast Captain standing at the wheel of his mighty warship. Lashed by rain, implacable against the cold, fighting to con Piorun through the surf and spray of the ocean's fury. The waves rising as rapidly as they fell, steadfastly plowing ahead on Piorun's latest adventure. Perhaps off to face a dreaded pirate lord, or to hunt down some great and terrible sea monster. The idea was so strong in her mind, such a vivid image, that she actually thought it might be real... Those thoughts only lasted a few moments. Father was gone, Piorun lay on the bottom Cesarski Harbor, and no amount of childish wishing could ever hope to raise her from the briny depths.

Having run through her morning routine, albeit slightly delayed on account of her sleeping in, Orzel found herself with very little to do other than contemplate that which she'd lost... As it was her birthday, and she wasn't technically supposed to be working, she'd opted to dress in her comfortable blue turtleneck sweater and black slacks, topped as always by her headscarf and pendant. Despite Orzel's stated desire to keep things quiet, Alba insisted that she'd be along later to help celebrate. For now the Princess settled in at her desk and once more looked over her latest bevy of projects. The HMMV Project had finally finished development following several redesigns, and was now entering mass production through Rook Automotive.

The same could go for the VR-73, the final production version of the VRX, incorporating aspects like the under-folding stock and hooded front sight-block from the various prototypes leading up to its completion. Work on a viable helicopter was also progressing well, it was really only a matter of figuring exactly what role it would play in the field. Artillery spotting, rapid troop insertion, or perhaps even as a sort of 'Gunship'. The current prototype was fairly large, surely capable of carrying a great deal of weapons and armor, almost like a sort of 'Flying Tank'...

Orzel had made at least modest progress in the design of a missile for Project Gungnir, several prototypes for which were in varying stages of construction. They were more to test the flight characteristics and payload capabilities, and lacked any sort of guidance system. Of course, unguided rockets themselves would also prove formidable weapons in their own right as a form of artillery... Work was already underway to convert one of the island's six-wheel supply trucks to carry a rack that could support forty rockets of a smaller scale, the sub-project being known as 'Project Hailstorm'.

Odds were that Hailstorm would reach the battlefield far before Gungnir, as the guidance enchantment for the latter was still proving a tricky wicket. Orzel's experience developing her KBO had born fruit in small-scale tests and the few computer simulations she'd managed to run, and were she forced to produce a viable weapon in short order, she could ensure somewhere on the order of a twenty to thirty percent kill ratio at a range of roughly a hundred-twenty miles. It was far easier to register a kill when using the weapon in a 'Surface-to-Surface' capacity, provided the target was marked with what Alba had termed a 'Arcane Flare'.

The ratio was better than zero, certainly, but hardly worth the price tag of eleven-thousand Bits per missile, not including Research and Development costs. Granted, funding wasn't really so much an issue anymore. ARMA's Defense Research Division had been given a virtual 'blank check' as part of the new MMA budget. Still, it was the principle of the matter. These were tax payer Bits after all, or at the very least half of them were, the other half coming from Orzel's own family. She intended to see both contributing parties got their money's worth.

Projects Gungnir and Hailstorm would have to wait for tomorrow... With the storm raging outside, any tests Orzel might've run would be sure to produce faulty results. They were nowhere near ready for a flight in such conditions. A test of its 'All Weather' capabilities would come later, when Orzel had a larger base of data to consult. She had a few auto-cannon designs cooking up, as well as an ADATA assisted auto-lead matrix... The various parts were a little too heavy to be applied to towed AA artillery, but would work fine on a dedicated vehicle platform. Orzel had elected to have several 'Armored Recovery Vehicles' transferred to ARMA, essentially tanks without their turrets... They'd yet to arrive, so Orzel couldn't work on them either.

Filtering through her papers, the Princess finally settled upon her notes regarding the ritual circle left in the wake of the action aboard Warlock... By now she'd managed to translate the writing and accompanying runes entirely, and they were very very strange. Taken in conjunction with the artifact recovered at the scene, the 'Orb of Orpheus', Orzel had figured that the ritual in question was aimed at resurrecting someone, or multiple someones, into a new body... Only one, the ritualist that'd vanished, seemed to have succeeded. There were also countless papers to review on behalf of Cadence regarding the military restructuring, but... They could wait as well. Orzel really didn't feel like untangling a bureaucratic mess today.

After half an hour of just staring at her desk, Orzel once again rose from her seat and made her way out of the the bedroom. The chatter of driving rain and snapping of thunder resonated through the majority of her residence with their ceaseless rumbling, though in all honesty the Princess actually found the sound to be rather soothing. With nothing else to do but pray for guidance on what to do, Orzel sat on the floor in front of the window and entered a meditative state of prayer... The emotions dredged up by the day, plus her conversation with Spike the night before, were as difficult to process as they were to quantify in exact terms.

The young woman wasn't sure exactly how long she sat chanting hymnals to herself before she was once again overtaken by a deep sensation of calm. It could've been minutes, it could've been an hour, but for Orzel... Time was a concept whose meaning was gradually starting to change. With the closing of another year came a reminder that. among other things, the mere passage of time for her would forever be different from most of those around her. She was a dragon, an arcanely powerful dragon, an arcanely powerful dragon princess, and all of those things added up to one stark conclusion. What were years to virtually everyone else might as well be seconds to her, at least in the grand scheme of things. Yet another reason she wished to be alone today... She needed to reflect.

Orzel was coming to understand that she, like the majority of her family and Spike, was an eternal being... Not immortal, not by a long shot. She could still be killed, as all dragons could be, but... For all intents and purposes, like the very people that'd taken her in, Orzel would not grow old. The same couldn't be said for everyone else in her life, and each successive birthday would bring them all closer to bidding her a final farewell. Doctor Scratch, Alba, even Cousin Blueblood... They would pass and fade away, millenia before Orzel ever so much as gained a wrinkle, if even that was possible for an eternal being.

In her state of meditation, Orzel ruminated on all of these thoughts, and in so doing felt herself mourning those whom she'd yet to lose. The visions that filled her mind were as dark and as bleak as the raging storm outside, images of headstones, slowly becoming covered in moss. Deep down, the young woman wondered why things couldn't stay the same forever, why things always had to change, just as she was starting to get used to them. She'd finally made peace with many of the demons that haunted her, and while she'd yet to fully recover, there was no denying the progress she'd made.

Regardless of her struggles, the universe continued to conspire to reveal to her such disheartening truths, at precisely the worst times, as if determined by some cruel intelligent force to drag her back down into the depths of despair. It was only through the teachings of Lexicos that she'd managed to maintain her emotional footing this time. Where one misery ended, another sprang up to take its place. Where one crisis was averted, another arose, stronger and more deadly than the last. With all the authority she'd inherit, all the arcane power she would wield, all the countless centuries ahead of her, Orzel honestly wondered if she was truly able to withstand the weight of being a sovereign...

In what seemed a blink of the mind's eye, Orzel found herself standing on a pristine white beach, facing the West, a great towering monolith of white rising high upon the horizon... The sky was the color lead, filled with low hanging clouds. Rolling waves crashed against the sand, sending sprawling surges of foam up to within inches of Orzel's feet. Her arrival to this place in her mind didn't really surprise her... She was always drawn here, to stand at the water's edge. Perhaps it would be easier if she just... Waded out into the sea... Conceded to instinct, abandoned her life as a Princess in favor of something simpler, more visceral... A life embraced by the ocean.

"Starting anew is never so simple as one might think..." Midnight's familiar, oddly distorted, voice arose from Orzel's right. She spoke Orzel's native tongue, as she always had. This was, however, the first time she'd heard her familiar speak to her in one of her meditations. "You and I both know that you will not abandon your duty." Orzel nodded quietly, taking a deep breath and sighing through her nose.

"Duty..." Orzel repeated the word softly. "Noun. Obligatory tasks, conduct, service, or functions that arise from one's position..." The girl tucked her hands into her pockets. "People talk of 'eternal duty' or 'eternal commitment', but most of them will never endure 'eternity'. They are so fragile, so... Ephemeral..." The girl squatted down, picking up a handful of sand and letting it slip through her fingers. "I tell myself over and over again that I am different now... That I am free... If I truly am free, then why was this title foisted upon me? Why can I not choose it for myself?"

"Ah, but you already have chosen it..." Midnight responded simply while Orzel stood back up. "We both know by now that were you to go to your Mother and tell her that you no longer desired to be her heir, she would think no less of you. None of your family would... By remaining silent when you know there is an alternative, are you not making your choice?" Orzel felt a hand on her shoulder, which caused her to turn in surprise...

Rather than a Myna bird, she found a black hooded figure, the same woman who had pervaded her visions and dreams for as long as Orzel had sought them. The woman in white, Orzel's 'Dragon Self, was also present, though she stood facing west, wordlessly allowing the waves washing up to her ankles. As usual, both of their faces were shrouded by darkness, leaving naught but their eerie glowing eyes. Orzel didn't recoil at the strange new sight, nor didn't flinch in surprise... She'd gradually pieced together that the figure from her visions, from her dreams, was in fact her familiar. It still didn't answer the question... Why did the woman visit her in those places, and why had she chosen now, of all times, to break the silence she'd kept?

"Yes, eternity is a long time... Yes, there are many you care about who will arrive and depart while you remain stationary in the river of time..." The woman continued solemnly as Orzel stared into those wide golden eyes, who looked at her with such profound caring and sympathy, it almost reminded her of Luna. "Avoiding those you care about for fear of suffering will only waste what precious time you have, as will running away. Cherish their friendship. Cherish the knowledge that they have chosen, for their fleeting existence, to call you 'friend'." The woman's hand tightened on Orzel's shoulder. "You are free, Orzel... You have tasted freedom after enduring the bitterness of tyranny, as these Equestrians never have..."

"That is why you were chosen." Midnight said seriously, bowing her head slightly in the direction of the monolith. "You know as well as I do that they need someone at the helm that understands... Someone who will, for all eternity, never forget that bitter taste, and so strive harder to preserve their freedom. Someone who will fight against those that would seek to snuff out those already low burning candles, the forces of darkness that would rob your subjects of their brief time in this world." To Orzel's surprise, the spectral woman pulled her into a strangely warm, hauntingly familiar hug. "A matter has arisen that requires my attention... No matter what happens, know that I will always be proud of you..." She tightened the embrace. "I must depart for a time, child. Know that if you are truly in need of me, I shall come. You will never be alone..."

Orzel's eyes snapped open, instantly transporting her from the beach in her vision back to her seat on the floor of her residence. For a few moments she sat there, stunned by a sensation of having seen a ghost... Over a span of three fleeting seconds, she'd seen the face within the hood, just as she had a time before... In those seconds she'd come to some realization, something profound about the true nature of Midnight, but... In the transition from subconsciousness to consciousness, that revelation was lost once more... All that remained was a terrible sense of grief, and the stinging sensation of tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Midnight?" Orzel called quietly, wiping her eyes whilst looking around frantically. "Midnight, please return to me." The bird failed to materialize, in spite of Orzel's request. It wasn't unusual for Midnight to vanish for a time, but this...? This felt different. A true familiar could only be dismissed if its master willed it to be so, and yet Orzel was quite certain that the bird had done so of its own accord. She tried to summon the bird, tried to will it before her, to command it to reveal its presence, all to no avail. It was as if a piece of her was just... Missing. Gone to parts unknown...

The young woman didn't know when, or if, she could ever get it back. In the end, all the Princess could do was hope her familiar would keep to her word and return. With Midnight gone, the only person Orzel could regularly converse with was Alba. All of a sudden she was left with a renewed sensation of loneliness, and she wished desperately to once more cast the spell of Astral Projection... Not to speak with Spike, as she had previously, but to seek out where ever it was that Midnight had gone. Unfortunately the spell, while easier to cast now, still required certain components... Components that could prove dangerous, if taken too frequently.

While Orzel was certain there were plenty of people out there having worse days than she was, that did little to change the fact that, now, quite simply, she still felt rather crummy... Hopefully Alba would drop by sooner rather than later, as Orzel thought it wise to heed the final piece of advice of her familiar. To cherish what moments she did spend with her friends, and to safeguard those friends, so that they might live as long as possible. If nothing else, she could do with a good deal of cheering up, and Alba was surprisingly adept at that. Orzel could at least take solace in the knowledge that while it was certainly disheartening to have lost her familiar for an undisclosed amount of time, at least no one had died...

Geier Schwarzefeder, Prime Minister of the Griffon Empire and long suffering whipping boy of the Imperial press at large, had for the majority of his professional career enjoyed little in the way of reward for his work. Food lines? Blame Schwarzefeder! Potential mutiny in the Imperial military? It's Schwarzefeder's fault! Rampant inflation brought on by the wall-bitingly moronic decision to just keep printing money to pay for increasingly expensive social programs that were almost entirely unnecessary, something that only the Emperor was authorized to do? Still, somehow, Schwarzefeder's fault! The latter most issue was a particularly bitter subject, considering that his salary hadn't increased in nearly a decade, yet people assumed he made so much more than they did...

He endured all this not for any reason as foolish as 'patriotism' or 'loyalty', these were merely platitudinous notions disseminated to the commoners, to be paid lip-service only so far as was necessary to prevent revolt... No, Schwarzefeder's sole purpose for doing what he did was the hope that someday, if he played his cards right, he would be granted a title of nobility and all the land, acclaim, and real fortune that came with such an appointment. For thirty years he'd done the bidding of his Emperor, laughed at his pedestrian humor, endured his ridicule, and did all that was within his power to save the Emperor's face whenever he made one of his increasingly frequent mistakes...

Recently, for the first time since accepting the role, it appeared that Schwarzefeder's long awaited dream of nobility and riches was at hand. The Emperor had become a doddering old fool by now, prone to random fits of temper and ever narrowing margins of lucidity, but his word nonetheless remained law... Schwarzefeder need only say the right words, in just the right way, and all that he desired could finally be his. Or, alternatively, wait until the Emperor was so far gone as to not notice if Schwarzefeder decided to appoint himself to a position of nobility... After all, the Emperor was more and more predisposed to dictating his orders than writing them in his increasingly unstable hands.

Of course, that was still in the future. For now, Schwarzefeder was still Prime Minister, still subject to all the shouting and yelling of the ungrateful peasantry, still waiting for the Emperor to finally lose his last couple marbles. It was only natural that, after a long day of enduring the constant verbal lashings of the ungrateful peons, all a the man wanted to do was to go to his drafty home, lay down in a bed that was too narrow, beneath a blanket that was too short, and slumber fitfully for a period that was all too short, only to rise and repeat the same demoralizing process over on the morrow.

It was extremely late in the evening, close to midnight at the very least, when the telephone rang out from Schwarzefeder's kitchen. Sighing faintly, the balding lanky public 'servant', stretched his wings and smacked his lips together. Scratching at his stomach whilst stalking across the rough, not to mention frigid, wooden floor, he resolved to himself that whomever was calling him had likely just forfeited their job at the very least... Unless, of course, it was a matter of actual importance. Slipping into a ratty old bathrobe as he descended to the first floor, he stopped beside the phone in his kitchen and lifted the receiver. Placing it to his ear, he cleared his throat and sighed.

"Schwarzefeder..." He muttered tiredly, rubbing at his eyes and instinctively glancing at a nearby clock... Not that it did much good, the damn thing was broken, not to mention too expensive to repair or replace. Maybe he'd burn it as firewood... The voice on the other end of the line was frantic but reserved, with the message the speaker conveyed quickly rousing the Prime Minister from the lingering stupor of sleep. "Are you serious?" They were absolutely serious. "Assemble the Council of Ministers. You're not to breathe a word of this to anyone! If you do I'll have you shot, do you understand?!" They absolutely understood.

Schwarzefeder swiftly hung up the phone and raced up stairs, briefly pausing to grab a stack of Königsmarks from the dining room table. The stack was readily lit after the striking of a match, burning nice and slow. He tossed the virtually worthless paper into the small fireplace at the opposite end of his bedroom, providing him an ample source of light and a meager amount of warmth. It burned just long enough for him to change out of his threadbare bathrobe and into an equally threadbare brown three-piece suit, topped by an old brown Tyrolean hat, decorated by a single black feather of his own plumage.

Donning an old woolen overcoat, Schwarzefeder wasted little time exiting his home and making his way through the dark gritty streets of Old Griffonstone. There were few lights here, as none could spare the lamp oil, and no carriages in sight. One would have to be a fool to leave a carriage anywhere in Griffonstone overnight and not expect to find it resting on cinder blocks, stripped to all but the chassis, come morning. Continuing to grumble to himself, Schwarzefeder didn't even bother looking for another means of transportation, instead extending his wings and taking flight. He'd lost a considerable amount of weight in recent months, still he found the task of flying to be a most uncomfortable prospect.

The city from above was a grim shadow of what it'd been in the Prime Minister's youth, with few signs of life other than occasionally flickering fires, marking the various homeless encampments scattered throughout. Though the low lands were enjoying the warmth of summer, here in the mountains it was exceptionally chilly. Occasionally, over the somber mourning wind, the Schwarzefeder would hear a distant shout or a yell from the streets below, sometimes this would be followed by a scream of pain or, less commonly these days, a gunshot.

The Emperor had made the wise decision to relieve the local populace of their firearms, an action he should've taken with the Northern Provinces when they'd first started spouting such nonsense as 'secession'. There were exceptions to the law, of course. As a member of the Council of Ministers, Schwarzefeder never left home without a pistol, and that'd beat a thug with a knife any day. The people of Griffonstone would have a far harder time seizing the Imperial palace with only knives, though the Emperor was also considering taking those as well, 'for the good of the people'. Schwarzefeder frankly didn't give a rat's ass about 'the people', let them mug and stab each other to their hearts content... Better they take their economic frustrations out on one another than on the state.

Realistically though, given the phone call he'd just received, Schwarzefeder would've preferred being mugged at knife point. He arrived to the Imperial Palace within seven minutes of leaving his home, it was the only building lit up for miles, a shining beacon of civilization among a city rapidly descending into squalor. The soldiers standing guard at the gate, each of whom was heavily armed, snapped to attention at his approach. Without pausing to check his papers, they signaled a trio of tanks parked behind the gates to back out of the way. They'd been brought in recently, and were crewed by soldiers hand picked for their loyalty, just in case the military itself decided to take a crack at 'changing' things.

It took Schwarzefeder another four minutes for him to actually reach the palace, ascending the ancient granite steps to the front door, where a remarkably well dressed butler stood holding the door for him. Schwarzefeder walked past without saying a word, navigating the opulent halls with an ease that came from his decades of practice. He wasted no time in rubbing his hands together, basking in the decadent heat that pervaded throughout the well decorated home of his Emperor. Servants of all types bowed or curtsied as he passed, again he paid them little mind. Ascending to the second floor, he tread the marble floors, passing the throne room, turning two more corners, before finally arriving at an ornately decorated wooden door.

Two soldiers stood guard at either side of it, looking directly ahead, while an old hag of a housekeeper and a far younger, more comely maiden of equally insignificant rank, stood off to the side. The aged witch was evidently consoling the girl, though it was entirely understandable given the news on the phone... Still, good to see the matter was handled... Schwarzefeder hated when the help of all people whined, especially considering they were allowed to live in the nice warm palace while he and all the other Ministers resorted to burning bundles of worthless bills.

The soldiers snapped to attention at Schwarzefeder's approach, earning the merest dismissive wave on the Prime Minister's behalf.

"He's in there?" The man asked briskly, receiving a wordless nod from the more senior of the two men. "Don't move from this spot until ordered to do so. Allow no one but the Council of Ministers to enter." The soldier gave only another nod...

Good man, keeping his yap shut. Schwarzefeder also hated when people that were obviously beneath him thought themselves worthy of speaking in his presence. With his orders given and little time to lose, the Prime Minister grasped the door handle, turned it, then stepped into the room. He was quick to close the door behind him, ensuring that whatever was seen, or smelled, in the room remained in the room.

The odor that assaulted his nostrils was overall nothing new, at least to Schwarzefeder... A sort of rancorous funk of mildew, sweat, and shedding feathers. The brilliantly decorated room was intended to exude vibrancy and vitality, both of which had long since left its sole occupant. Emperor Grover XXIV, Sovereign of the Griffon Empire, had spent an increasing amount of his time 'in session' of late. Every now and then Schwarzefeder would have the Emperor cleaned up and looking presentable, just long enough to have him walk around to prove he was, in fact, alive. Then they'd come back for a glass of warm milk and a nap...

These trips out had become less and less frequent with every day the Emperor's age ticked above ninety. More because the old man's mind had started to fail him with increasing regularity than anything else. The Northern Provinces were a hairs breadth away from open revolt, they could smell the blood in the water. Were it to come out that the Emperor was operating in such a diminished capacity, they wouldn't hesitate to secede, especially given the recent sinkings...

No one knew for certain which bright-bulb made the 'brilliant' tactical decision to go out to the Bugbear Coast and instigate the already sufficiently roused rabble, mostly because the Navy had a frustrating habit of protecting their own... It was just as likely to be the work of a rogue captain, some loyalist fanatic, just a plain madman, or some variation on those three. Schwarzefeder doubted he'd ever know, but he sure as Tartarus hated them for it! It was yet another issue the Emperor had yet to rule on, and as a result one more thing the Prime Minister had to hear about every day.

Now, as Schwarzefeder approached a large carpet at the center of the room, he got the distinct feeling the Emperor's most recent trip out, some five months ago, had been his last. There before him lay the bald, frail, half-naked, unmoving form of the most powerful man in the Empire... His skin was leathery and gray, his wings were all but barren of feathers, and it was obvious by observing the carpet that he'd gone ahead and wet himself... Like the smell, that wasn't altogether new, but no less disgusting.

Schwarzefeder stared at the Emperor's prone form for what felt like an eternity, a maelstrom of emotions welling up inside him, most of which were negative. Still, he was a professional... Without missing a beat he walked over to Gover's desk, grabbed a piece of the Emperor's stationary as well as a pen, and swiftly wrote an Imperial decree. It proclaimed that he would from henceforth be known as Lord Schwarzefeder, governor of Elfenbein, a small archipelago of tropical islands in the Celestia Ocean, just off the western coast of Zebrica.

He'd written enough of these proclamations by now to word it exactly as the Emperor would've dictated, he'd also forged enough of the Emperor's signatures to make it look convincing. This was all tied together by a raised wax stamp, imparting the Imperial seal to his lie, bringing the fraudulent proclamation into law... Biographers and historians would in future record that the Emperor's last act on this planet would be to grant the wish of his long suffering, hard working, undyingly loyal Prime Minister, and bestow upon him land and a sizable fortune in a tropical paradise... The way he worded it was almost enough to bring a tear to his eye.

With his retirement plans well taken care of, Schwarzefeder returned to the carpet and rubbed his chin. It wouldn't do for him to just resign while the body was still warm... He'd hang around for appearence's sake, then after a few weeks depart, too 'overcome by grief' to carry on. After a couple more minutes of thought, he crouched beside the unmoving Emperor and placed a hand on the man's jugular. His eyes widened ever so faintly, somehow the bastard still had a pulse! Almost instantly the man briefly eyed one of the pillows on the Emperor's bed... He was alone... No one would ever know. Sighing faintly, the man shook his head, walked to a nearby chair, and sat down. There he idly drummed his fingers against the armrest, awaiting the arrival of his colleagues.

The first to arrive was Anton Silberne, Minister of Foreign Affairs. Closing the door with a great theatrical push, his reaction to the scene was about as convincing as Schwarzefeder had come to expect of the short wiry man. His grief lasted all of twenty seconds, ending as soon as he knelt beside the Emperor's body and immediately recoiled with damp knees. Next to arrive was Kamin Kriegsfalke, Minister of War, whose grief at the apparent death of the Emperor was remarkably genuine to Schwarzefeder. The next two arrived within moments of one another, Gustoff Zensieren and Otto Geldsäcke, Minister of Truth and Minister of Finance respectively.

What followed were a good ten minutes where they all expressed their grief and disbelief at the loss of their glorious leader, struck down at the 'young' age of ninety-one. He was actually dead by the time they'd all finished expressing just how truly saddened they were to one another, a fate that might've been averted had anyone thought to call a doctor, or at the very least voiced such a thought. It was really for the best, all things considered... The Empire needed a strong leader, now more than ever, and Grover XXIV simply wasn't getting the job done.

That left the weighty question of who would ascend to the throne, who would inherit an inflation crippled economy, rising rates of violent and property crime, borderline anarchy, potential mutinies, and the very likely secession of half of the country's landmass. Being a hereditary monarchy, the choice should've been obvious... Crown-Prince Stempel, the Emperor's eldest son... A sprightly young seventy-two years young. The problem was that Stempel, like his father, wasn't in the best of health. More specifically, he'd been paralyzed from the neck down in climbing accident at age thirty-two, while foolishly attempting to recover the Idol of Boreas, allegedly lost down the Abysmal Abyss.

The Council of Ministers all agreed that while technically the crown should pass to Stempel, one technically needed to be able to 'ascend' out of their own bed if they were to ascend to the throne. Zensieren would ensure that the papers made proper mention of how difficult the decision was, how despite Stempel's wish to take his father's place, he'd valiantly decided to relinquish the throne to the next in line... If Stempel actually refused to go along with the plan? Well, heart attacks were known to happen in men his age, especially those in his condition.

Who was 'next in line' was a little murky, and that suited the aims of the Council of Ministers quite well. They could pick virtually anyone in the Imperial bloodline, preferably one of the Emperor's grandsons, or great grandsons. Kriegsfalke briefly floated the notion of perhaps picking one of the Emperor's far more numerous great granddaughters, and that resulted in a much needed laugh for all those involved. Given the stress of selecting their new leader, Kriegsfalke's joke was greatly appreciated.

In the end, they decided on a relatively young and inexperienced young man... Well, barely old enough to be considered a man. The man chosen to be the next sovereign of the Griffon Empire was known simply as Guto... Guto IV, as it would happen to be. He was quiet and soft spoken by all accounts, always inclined to defer to his elders, and that suggested he'd be remarkably easy to sway in one direction or another. It was that malleability that would make Guto so useful to the Council of Ministers.

He could be molded by them, tailored into the perfect figurehead, whilst they were able to consolidate power in their hands. Schwarzefeder didn't know why he cared so much, he still intended to retire in the near future, but... He supposed he would miss this sort of thing. The plotting, the scheming, even if it meant he was lambasted in the press. Speaking of which...

With the issue of succession sorted, next came the task of setting the scene for tomorrows papers. Revealing in the papers that the Emperor had died half-naked in a puddle of his own indignity would hardly send the proper message. So, with a great deal of effort on their part, the Council of Ministers made things a bit more presentable. The Emperor would be found having died in his sleep, peacefully, quietly... A day of mourning would be declared, it would be a most moving ceremony. Such a public event would surely be of a high enough profile to prevent the enemies of the Empire from capitalizing on their leader's death.

The separatists, while claiming their eagerness for 'independence', wouldn't dare to risk causing an incident while the Empire was in mourning. To do so would turn public sentiment against them... It was, however, only a temporary delay to a much longer term problem. Schwarzefeder knew the Iron Bloods were cowards at heart, they didn't really intend to secede, they just wanted more money. That's what all Griffons wanted, especially now. While the thestrals were likely more genuine in their desire to be separate from the Empire, Schwarzefeder didn't give them much credence. In all likelihood they'd want to be re-integrated into Equestria, and there was no way Equestria would risk war with the Empire to take them in... Or was there?

The changing foreign policies of Equestria was one of the many other matters that needed attending to, matters that Emperor Guto would need to be brought up to speed on. Firstly were rumblings of a covert organization operating somewhere in the mountains, unaffiliated with the separatists... Then there were the separatists themselves, but most important of all were the Equestrians...

Once the most predictable major power in the known world, the peaceful isolationist nation-state was fast evolving past their oh so useful pacifism... This was believed to be in no small part due to their newest Princess, Crown-Princess Orzel, whom was more or less a year or two younger than the new Emperor. As she was being raised, and undoubtedly molded, by Princess Luna, she presented a considerable wildcard. Considering she would likely take the throne in less than a decade, Princess Orzel would be the primary antagonist to anything the Empire attempted to accomplish. Thus, she was a wildcard that would need to be taken out of play sooner, rather than later...

Perhaps the Ministers could neutralize her by getting Emperor Guto to propose some sort of alliance, to be sealed with a political marriage, as was currently all the rage in West Parthenia. Intelligence indicated that she was once a part of something called the 'Warrior Caste', which seemed to be a servile class that were very inclined to deferring to their betters. If Equestria could be pressured into committing to such a marriage, Guto could use his position to sway her opinions, merely by virtue of his being a nobleman.

Schwarzefeder swiftly shook his head, for all the information he had, there was still a lot that couldn't be accounted for. She was a dragon, and dragons tended to be powerfully stubborn, not to mention domineering and strong willed. More worryingly, there wasn't a dragon on the planet that didn't want to expand their territory, even a tiny bit... She vehemently supported an expansion of Equestria's military, and the arming of its populace, indicating she likely would seek to expand and defend that territory through force of arms... Most alarmingly, especially considering Luna's equally recent return, she was set to make Equestria's policy of non-intervention a thing of the past.

The Empire had quite literally been able to get away with murder in the past, but the recent expansion of their Defense Budget, coupled with rumors of Equestrian surface ships patrolling international waters outside the Bugbear Coast indicated that was no longer the case. That didn't even include the plans to build more of their novel 'Aircraft Carriers', which could theoretically allow Equestrian planes to strike the Griffon Navy by sea, with virtually nothing to counter them. Obviously the carriers were meant to serve as 'First Strike' weapon platforms, a means of further limiting the Empire's ability to domestically do business as it saw fit.

As Prime Minister Schwarzefeder stood quietly in the window of the Emperor's bedchamber, he stared out to the west... A 'New Equestria' was taking shape, even if its inhabitants didn't realize it quite yet. Normally the Empire's response to such a threat would be one of diplomatic protest, and that would certainly be attempted, but likely to little effect... Quietly the man watched a fresh flurry of snow drifting from the cloudy night sky, gradually blanketing Griffonstone in a cloak of pure white. It almost looked... Peaceful. Peace, however, hardly seemed an option at this point.

The Empire was fast running out of resources, resources it would need to recoup if it was to stand a chance in the future. Just as a New Equestria was taking shape, so too would a New Empire be needed to counter them. Not just in policy or leadership, but in physical territory. For nearly a thousand years its territory had remained stagnant, held back from their right to expand by Equestrian 'mediators' and diplomacy. This, like a great many things, would need to cease. While Equestria's military might grew ever more formidable on paper, Schwarzefeder was willing to bet the Equestrians as a people weren't quite ready to actually do anything to stop the Empire... Not overtly, at any rate.

As a result, resources of anything, in anyplace, were theoretically fair game... At least, those not outright guaranteed by Equestria, but they were few in number. More importantly, adding them to the Imperial domain would prove far too difficult. The Empire couldn't afford to maintain its existing military, let alone expand it to match that of Equestria's, but that material disadvantage would be of little concern if the enemy they were fighting was armed with literal bows and spears.

East Parthenia sprang to mind, as did Zebrica, as the Empire already held portions of its east coast. Furthermore, in the unlikely event the North actually decided to secede, the Empire would need alternate means of paying its debts, at least until the separatists could be brought to heel. There were plenty of other continents ripe for conquest, which had remained untouched and unsettled by any civilized power since the age of the Nightmare War... If no one had laid legitimate claim to these lands by now, the Empire saw no reason to show further restraint.

So, one of the first decisions they'd put forward to Emperor Guto when he took power was the formation of a special division of the Imperial Army... The Imperial Corps of Expansion, whose ostensible goal would be the exploration, and quiet annexation, of previously uncharted frontiers. There'd be much more to it than that, of course, but it was at least a start.

Hopefully, in a year's time at the earliest, the Empire wouldn't find itself in a position so dire as it stood now. Pondering the thought of expansion, Schwarzefeder soon found himself asking why he should settle for a few tiny islands when there would be so much more land for a Lord, such as himself, to lay claim to. If his horizons couldn't be expanded, it would be unfortunate, but so long as he had the Elfenbein Archipelago...? Maybe he wasn't too grief stricken to continue his duties after all.

Epilogue

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.

Chapter 1

Author's Note

Hey all, I know it's been a couple years since I posted something, especially a story this long. As I said in the description, this is one that I've been writing and re-writing this for a while, I actually started back in March of 2020. Yeah...

Hopefully the next story won't take as long to complete, as I feel I've found my footing with the new setting and characters. As with a few of my previous stories, I took some inspiration from actual historical events to help flesh things out. It's an alternate universe, and while certain events from the show will play out as they did normally, there's bound to be some changes.

I'll be honest here, I think things turned out well, but there's that part of me that always worries it's not nearly as good as I think it is, or that I've lost my 'touch', if I ever had such a thing to begin with... I suppose what I'm trying to say is that there's a part of me that hesitated to post this, a part of me that said it'd never be good enough, that I should take everything I'd written and toss it all out, or that I should stop writing entirely.

The past couple years have been hard, and I suppose this is all a round about way of me getting to the point of this little blurb.

I'd like to dedicate this story to my readers... Really, if it weren't for you guys I probably would've given up writing a long time ago, and I honestly don't know what my life would be like now, were that the case... Learning how put my thoughts down on paper has helped me get through some very dark times, and I just wanted to thank all of you in advance for taking the time to read this story. I don't know how many of you are out there, but some of the comments I've received on my previous stories have been truly touching, and they're still the reason I do what I do. But that's enough out of me...

I hope you all enjoy what's to come, and as always I look forward to reading your comments. Thank you again.

-The Boss

Chapter 1

Presiding over night throughout Equestria never failed to please Princess Luna, the glistening splendor of the stars coupled with the soft pale light of the moon had a beauty all their own. Each evening her tapestry spread over the land for all to see, and even if most slept through it, she knew there were those that gazed upon her work as the art she intended it to be. Constellations forming the faces of great heroes and mythical creatures, distant nebulae adjusted so that their color could be more clearly distinguished. She would've loved to make some alterations to the regal display that night, perhaps influence a comet to streak past...

As it was, however, Luna sat atop her throne. It was a magnificent thing, carved from a single massive slab of obsidian, and recently restored to its rightful place the grand throne room of Canterlot Castle. It was just as comfortable as the day it had arrived as a gift from the Thestral Imperium over a thousand years ago. A symbolic pledge of fealty to the 'Queen of the Night', whomever resided in it would be the 'Empress' of the Imperium... That had been a time, in Luna's opinion, where a throne held far more meaning. Unfortunately, it seemed the uncreatively named Obsidian Throne's importance had been lost to all but the historians of the world, following Luna's banishment. At least it could still grant the Princess a cozy place from which to reign over the room and hear her next petitioner. Even as she focused on the task at hand, her mind and eyes couldn't help but wander to the sky that lay just beyond the stained glass windows.

It was a particularly calm evening, with few petitioners to draw Luna's attention from her thoughts and personal ruminations. There had been a time not long ago where she and her sister had been mortal foes, yet as evidenced by her current task they had managed to work out their differences, albeit with the aid of a particularly precocious librarian. Now she ruled beside her sister, returned to her rightful place as one of the most powerful people in the country. It wasn't as pleasant as it had been before the Nightmare War, and often times Luna felt like there was something missing from her life... A few melancholy memories wafted through her mind, of faces and places long past, but they were just as quickly waved away.

The sad truth was there was little else for Luna to do in Equestria. One thousand years in exile, hardly a blink of an eye to a being such as her, and yet at the same time as epic in scope as any mortal might imagine. Her return and reformation had taken place just over a year before, an even more miniscule period, certainly not long enough to revel in the splendor of her birthright as co-ruler of Equestria. Entitlement was a trait she found most detestable, and yet it too found purchase within her own heart. She was 'entitled' to the throne because her Sister had so decreed it, as any member of the Royal Family could. Royal Family wasn't really the right term, she felt, as aside from her and her sister, only Prince Blueblood and Celestia's recently adopted niece made up the entity known colloquially as 'The Crown'. These thoughts resulted in her expression becoming an almost perpetual frown, and coupled with the rigors of actual rule it was rare if the Princess ever cracked so much as a smirk.

For the poor man that had come before her that night, it must've been a most intimidating visage. He stood before the throne, dressed modestly, nervously taking in the cavernous marble throne room. The impressive banners hung unfurled overhead, the distant lights of Canterlot glittering beyond stained glass windows. One of Celestia's stranger aesthetic choices, certainly, but one that Luna rather liked... She took her eyes from the window and looked at the man, who seemed to flinch when directly examined. Inwardly Luna sighed, it would likely take a great deal of time for her subjects to forgive her actions as Nightmare Moon, and likely even longer to forget. She had her supporters, of course, but as far as she knew their numbers were few.

"You are Hearthstone, correct?" Luna inquired, breaking the silence, to which the man rapidly nodded. Sweat was virtually pouring from his forehead, and given the cool air of the throne room, the Princess could only deduce that stress was the source of his glistening skin. "The reason you have listed for coming before the throne pertains to a legal preceding?" Once again the man nodded, averting his eyes. "Why bring such a matter before the Crown? Are there not suitable attorneys within the city?"

"The matter is a tad odd, your highness." Hearthstone stated uneasily, wringing his hands while trying to look at anything but the Princess. "I install and repair chimneys, and I was contracted to do a job for a Mister Jet Set." Luna's frown only deepened at the mention of the name, the affluent Jet Set had a habit of creating legal webs so complex they would've been impressive... If not for their headache inducing nature. Hearthstone could only bear to look at his own feet. "His wording of the contract seemed clear enough at the time, but it was just vague enough that... Well..."

"He intends not to pay you." Luna concluded for him, Hearthstone nodded once again. "And you are unable to find legal council within Canterlot because mister Jet Set has been a client of virtually every lawyer in the city at one point or another, correct?" Surprised, Hearthstone's eyes met with Luna's for the first time. This wasn't the first time such a thing had happened, Jet Set had the money to hire every attorney he wanted at least once. It wasn't because he needed that many lawyers, but rather to keep others from turning them against him. Keeping them on retainer ensured there would always be a conflict of interest, according to modern Equestrian law... "I shall assign a special magistrate to mediate the dispute. You need not worry about their loyalties, they will answer only to the Crown."

"Thank you, your highness..." Hearthstone said graciously, bowing his head. "I appreciate you taking the trouble to hear me out at such a late hour."

"No trouble at all, Mister Hearthstone." Luna responded with a small note of warmth. "You may take your leave, the details and date of the preceding will be delivered to you shortly. If I might suggest, choose your clients more carefully in the future?" Hearthstone nodded once more, bowing his head before turning to make his way away from the throne. Luna watched him for a few moments, inwardly seething at the thought of the unbelievably annoying trend established by Jet Set. More and more the would-be plutocrats of Canterlot thought themselves above the law, it was only a matter of time before the Crown would need to step in and show them just who really held the power, those with the interests of the people at heart. For now, however, her duties for the night had all but come to an end. Hearthstone was the last of her petitioners, and once he'd filed out of the room the Princess had little more reason to remain upon her throne. Rising gracefully from the polished chair, Luna straightened the lines of her navy blue gown and descended the steps, flanked on both sides by the ceremonially armored forms of her Lunar Marines that lined the walls.

Luna had just a few precious minutes to visit her private kitchen, fix herself a midnight meal, and retire to her chambers to take on her most treasured duty of all... Safeguarding the dreams of Equestria's citizens. Fate, unfortunately, would have other plans for her that night. As Luna reached the exit reserved for royal use, she couldn't help but notice a lack of the usual moonlight that streamed in through the nearby windows. Looking outside, it was apparent this had come about as a result of a thick blanket of clouds. Making her way out of the throne room, Luna turned left in the narrow hallway beyond, out onto a balcony that sat above one of the castle's exterior courtyards. The only light that remained now was that from glittering skyscrapers and dull golden street lamps, as if every star in the heavens had abruptly ceased to be. No such weather event was scheduled for that night, and the clouds carried with them an oppressive foreboding presence. Looming menacingly above the city, not even the faintest glow of Luna's moon could be seen.

Then, in a brilliant flash of light, the darkness was shattered. Luna stared with silent fascination as a bolt of lightning lanced down, striking upon the castle gardens to the west. It was unlike any lightning she'd ever seen before, carrying with it a coloration she could only describe as 'metallic' in nature. The clap of thunder that followed rang with such a force it was a wonder windows throughout the city didn't shatter, and it would later be recorded as the single loudest burst of thunder to ever strike Equestria's capitol. Luna's wings flared on her back whilst magic glowed softly to life in her palms, which followed a sense of unease that coursed through her being. The sense of foreboding grew more pronounced as Luna watched the bolt of lightning somehow sustain itself, carrying on for a good twenty seconds, before dissipating just as abruptly as it had appeared.

Taking to the sky, Luna could already hear the beginnings of the Castle Garrison's response. Alarms and calls to arms sounded throughout the Castle, her Lunar Corps would be the first to spring into action. Celestia would undoubtedly be along shortly, but for now it fell to Luna to deal with whatever new threat had come to menace Equestria. In the space of thirty seconds Luna arrived at the site, from the air she could see a large circle had been scorched into the ground. It was nearly fifty feet across, illuminated by a wreath of roiling orange flames.

Luna observed figures moving in the firelight, accompanied by growls and the clatter of steel. Her palms glowed brighter as magic coiled around her body. Where once her gown had been, now came the weight and heft of darkened armor. Its surface swirled with wild patterns of light and dark steel, as Damascus steel was want to do. Despite its beautiful exterior, the armor had served Luna as recently as her return from exile, though in that context against her Sister's emissaries... The woman shook her head as she landed with a grunt. Standing at the edge of the circle, she watched the figures within with minor trepidation. What lay before her, violently shifting with speed and brutality, was a struggle the likes of which Luna hadn't seen since the darkest days of the Nightmare War.

At the center of the fray was a vaguely feminine form, clad in battered bronzed armor and helmet, wielding a sword that radiated golden light. Cowering on the ground behind her was a smaller form, likely that of a child, which the woman seemed to be going out of her way to keep from the gnashing teeth of her assailants. Attacking the lone warrior were two vaguely humanoid beasts, covered in chitinous armor and dribbling fluorescent green slobber from betwixt their savage jaws. Each movement was visceral, and what little of their muscles Luna could see twitched and coiled like writhing pits of snakes. They were horrendous things to gaze upon, even in the dim firelight, announcing their cruel nature in the way they stalked and snarled.

Luna narrowed her eyes and attempted to step over the flaming barrier, but was repulsed backwards with a surprising amount of arcane force. A pulse of golden energy extended from where she'd attempted to cross, revealing a near invisible dome over the circular battleground. Nearly falling onto her rear, Luna could do nothing but watch the fire lit fight within. The warrior brought her sword down on one of the creatures, which raised its arm defensively to block the blow. Luna wished she'd looked away, cringing as the arm was cleaved clean off, earning an ear splitting shriek from the wretch as it staggered backwards. Chitin and vile glowing green sludge poured forth from the wound with the speed of a busted fire hydrant, each pulse of the beast's heart coating the ground in quarts of the viscous ichor.

The Warrior had little time to celebrate her success, however, as she was suddenly jumped from her left by the second beast. Snarling with a reverberating deep tone, it extended its clawed arm to reveal razor sharp talons before thrusting them effortlessly into the woman's gut. They penetrated the armor with a terrible whine of buckling metal, which resulted in a scream of pain from the woman. This act of barbarism was almost as hard to watch as the amputation of the first creature's arm, as if what Luna had seen hadn't been enough.

The child, it was obvious now it was indeed a child, possibly a teenager, let out a scream that shook Luna to her core. Not since a night a great many centuries ago, when her own Mother and Father had perished, had she heard so much condensed into but a single sound. Despair, fear, anguish, and desperation... In that instance, it'd been her own voice to ring out. She tried once more to enter, but she was evidently powerless to breach the barrier of magic. Luna could only watch in muted horror as the child attempted to rise to her apparent caretaker's defense. The Warrior roared something in a language Luna had never heard before, or rather, a dialect of sorts. It was obviously some form of Draconic, a language with which she was quite familiar, but beyond that she was lost for its meaning. The child, heeding that strange and unknowable order, instead scrambled several feet away from the conflict.

To Luna's surprise, the bronze clad fighter grabbed the second creature by the shoulder and pulled herself further onto the talons embedded in her abdomen. At this, Luna suddenly went very pale. What madness could have possessed the warrior to further injure herself, especially in what was obviously so painful a manner? Even at this distance, the Princess could hear the agonized gasps of the Warrior emanating from beneath her helmet. Her reasoning, however, soon became all too clear. Equally surprised by the act of self mutilation, the beast had little time to react when the woman raised her sword and cut its snarling head from its body. Or, rather... Hacked. For the chitin was so thick about its neck that it took three mighty slashes before the beast was fully decapitated.

The headless corpse crumpled to the ground, twitching and spurting glowing green ooze upon the darkened soil. Blood gushed from the Warrior's abdominal wound as the talon was pulled free, yet somehow she managed to remain on her feet. Visibly struggling against her injuries, the warrior staggered towards the creature whom she'd mutilated before. In one fell swoop, Luna watched the warrior plunge her radiant sword into the creature's body, which spasmed for but a moment before falling completely still. With that, the flaming barrier started to fade. The woman afterward drew the sword from the corpse and jabbed it into the ground, using it to support her weight as the child scrambled towards her side, once again speaking in that language Luna could not understand.

The Princess once more attempted to step over the barrier, this time managing to force her way through the flames as the spell apparently dissipated, leaving a ring of strange runes scribed upon the ground. Seeing the girl desperately clinging to the wounded form, the Princess broke into a sprint. The shock and horror she knew the poor youth endured once again had a direct line to the depths of her soul, and she became overwhelmed by a desire to bring an end to the existential pain Luna knew was soon to come. Armor clattering loudly, heart thundering in her ears, she covered ground at speeds no mortal could match before skidding to a stop just short of the barely kneeling form. The Warrior apparently heard Luna coming, as she went about weakly pushing the child behind her. Wheeling around and prying the sword from the ground, with trembling hands, she leveled the blade at Luna.

Through the slit in the helmet, the Princess could see a mix of fear and desperation glinting in the woman's faintly glowing eyes. Once again the warrior shouted, clearly biting through her anguish, and it was clear to see a girl in dirt and blood speckled clothing huddled behind her. Luna held her arms out cautiously, trying to appear nonthreatening, she could hardly blame the woman before her for such hostility given what had just transpired. Whether it was from an approach of open non-hostility, or merely the result of the mortal wound in the woman's abdomen, the sword clattered to the ground. It's owner, unable to support the weight of her own battered body any longer, fell moments later. She landed and rolled onto her back, chest rising in short agonized gasps. It was evident from the amount of blood, and other less mentionable viscera dragged through the wound by the creature's talon, that no amount of emergency magic or medical treatment could stave off the inevitable specter of death.

The girl, desperately searching for any means to help, appeared absolutely beside herself. Luna approached the fallen figure and the frantic child, listening somberly as the girl could do little more than openly sob and cry out in that unknown tongue. The warrior spoke in an ever weakening voice, and the child responded in excited utterances between gasps of sorrow. The glow of the warrior's sword gradually faded to nothing, in those brief moments Luna caught sight of strange runes etched along its length. Once again, though she couldn't discern their meaning, they were obviously an archaic dialect of Draconic origin. There would be time to examine them in greater detail later, as there were far more pressing matters on Luna's mind. Kneeling beside the dying Warrior, the girl reached over and with fumbling movements removed the battered helmet.

The woman beneath the helmet had an ovular face, her sweat soaked skin bearing marked resemblance to a bronze statue... Warm almond brown hair flowed past her shoulders, the ends of which appeared frayed and even burned in some instances. The faintly glowing almond shaped eyes stared with remarkable intensity at Luna, as if peering into the deepest depths of her being. She was beautiful, with remarkably rounded features for someone that fought with such ferocity.

Luna took a few steps forward, the girl recoiling in obvious fright, only for the woman to weakly shake her head and speak further. Little more than a whisper by now... Struggling to so much as even turn her head, the fallen warrior brought a trembling hand up to the girl's tear soaked cheek in an effort to brush away some of the soot, though this did little more than smudge the thin gray powder with crimson blood. With a trembling finger, the warrior spoke and pointed at the sword on the ground. What followed was a short bout of violent coughing, sending blood and spittle forth from her lips. The girl, apparently acting on the woman's instructions, hesitantly lifted the blade.

"I mean you no harm..." Luna said softly, maintaining as non-threatening a stance as possible. The girl didn't understand her, obviously, and so she held the blade shakily in her own defense. The frightened girl looked to the dying woman, who only nodded with what little strength remained as the last of her vitality continued to drain away. Luna took a few steps closer, at this point the girl looked at her with less fear...

The girl had wide golden eyes that visibly glowed like those of the Warrior, and in them Luna could see an ocean of grief and terror that at once again struck at the Princess's very soul. No more than five feet tall, likely in her mid to late-teenage years, she could only stare up at what to her was an unknown stranger with flowing starry hair. It was apparent from her own rich bronzed skin, remarkably similar facial features, hair, and eye color that the warrior likely was the child's mother... Indeed, she'd certainly fought with motherly abandon against whatever those the foul smelling beasts had been. The dying woman looked at the Luna, then pointed at the girl, then once more to Luna. For one final time the warrior spoke weakly, choking out those words that Luna simply couldn't comprehend... Yet, to her, their meaning was all too clear. A final declaration of love from mother to child, there could have been no other explanation, and a plea... A plea to help her daughter.

The girl leaned down, hugging the woman as tightly as she could, the tears running in muddy streaks through the soot upon her face. With herculean effort, the warrior raised her head and planted a kiss on the girl's cheek. That would prove her last act, for she could draw breath no longer. In muted silence the woman's head lolled back, her eyes wide open, yet her chest completely still. A heart wrenching wail arose from the throat of that small huddled form beside the freshly dead body, conveying emotions of such weight that they transcended language itself. Disbelief, realization, sorrow and finally unspeakable grief. The girl frantically shook the unmoving warrior with cries that pierced the night, as if the act would coax the woman back into life. Luna knew all too well that would do little... Overwhelmed by the scene her eyes beheld, Luna swiftly moved to the child and crouched beside her.

"You are going to be okay..." The Princess soothed, a myriad of emotions running through her head. There was the faintest sense of being outside of her own body, as she was sure this was likely how she'd looked when told of her own parents' demise. Yet for all the terrible familiarity she found, there was an even greater part of her that knew not how to respond. Acting without thought, likely the result of some previously forgotten maternal instinct, Luna opened her arms and embraced the sobbing girl as gently as she could. The girl didn't resist or pull away, and so the Princess did her best to provide whatever meager comfort was possible. "You are safe now."

The distant clatter of boots on pave stones signaled the arrival of the Lunar Corps, though she wished they had only come a few minutes sooner. Whether they could've rendered aid in the fight or not was unlikely, given the strange barrier that had kept even Luna from interfering, but it would have at least been a response with something more... Substantial. The Princess looked towards the sky, watching the clouds gradually part, once again casting the light of the moon far across the land. Against the pale white disc she could also see the faint glow of Celestia's magic, and sure enough her sister landed a few moments later, adorned in her own shining golden armor. The sudden arrival apparently caught the child off guard, as she quickly buried her face into Luna's shoulder.

"Sister..." Luna quietly spoke, unsure of how best to calm the wailing child held in her arms. Celestia took stock of the desolated portion of the gardens with uncertainty, grimacing at the sight of two dead creatures and the deceased mother. Written upon her face was that unspoken question, one that Luna herself was unclear as to how she should answer. Just what had happened was both obvious and mysterious. Yes, a battle had been waged, but the nature of that battle remained unknown... "It appears these three were mid combat before their arrival... The child's mother is..." Luna trailed off, patting the girl on the back. "You are alright... Shh..."

"I'd sensed a change in the Arcane Barrier, but..." Celestia stated, kneeling across from Luna before looking at the child. The girl instinctively clung tighter to Luna with considerably force, a matter that seemed most peculiar given her limited stature. Given that she'd heard the mother speaking what seemed a form of Draconic, however, the added strength wasn't entirely out of the question. She was small by typical Equestrian standards, and virtually miniscule compared to other Drakes of similar age, assuming that was indeed what she was. "Where did she come from?"

"She was with this woman..." Luna looked to the dead woman, only to avert her eyes as she could not bear to look at such a grisly scene for more than a few seconds at a time. "My guess is she is... Was... The child's mother." Celestia sighed with the revelation, but ultimately didn't disagree. Biting her lower lip, it seemed that the ever implacable Princess of the Sun was being effected much in the way Luna had been. The sobs of children were something she was not used to, especially such intense cries of grief, and Luna suspected it brought into stark realization just how complacent perhaps Celestia had become with the 'Modern Peace' of the world. "I know not if the child is in good health, but she seems..." Luna stopped once again as the child shuddered against her. "Shh... Shh... You are safe..." The Princess glanced back at her sister. "She seems unable to understand Equestrian, rather a form of Draconic, though I cannot translate..."

"I don't recognize the spell that brought them here off hand." Celestia stated, holding a hand off to the side to signal the approaching marines that they were quite alright. Her palm glowed with golden energy, which she waved cautiously over the child, who in turn shrunk fearfully closer to Luna. Her eyes widened in shock and uncertainty, which at once set Luna on edge. Few things in the arcane arts could take Celestia by surprise, and those that did tended not to be of a pleasant sort. "These are beings not of our realm, Luna. At least... Not initially. The residual magic I can sense indicates this appears to be a botched teleportation from... Somewhere else." She looked at the twitching creatures, somehow still spurting their foul smelling ooze into the charred grass. "Likely cast in a panic."

"Do you think there will be more?" Luna asked cautiously, holding the child in her arms as her cries gradually began to calm. She had no illusions that it was because the girl felt better, likely it was rather a mix of exhaustion, both emotional and physical. Celestia shook her head, holding a glowing palm out towards the sky whilst settling her eyes on the sword that lay on the ground.

"I'm warding the barrier to inform me if any spells such as this emerge again, though I can't speak to its effectiveness. In the unlikely event more come, we might get some warning, or not." Celestia explained, lowering her arm and kneeling to pick up the sword. Grabbing hold of the hilt, the Princess attempted to lift, but was surprised when the sword refused to budge. Luna, still holding the child, watched with mild curiosity... The child had seemed perfectly capable of lifting the blade. "I don't understand..."

"Please, stop crying..." Luna soothed gently as she could, raising one hand and drawing a bit of magic into her palm. "Look at the light..." The child's attention was briefly drawn from the ground, her eyes staring at the ball of magic in surprised alarm. Luna rarely used spells to calm the emotions of others, it seemed an improper use of power to bend someone's feelings to her will, but in this case, the child was barely coming out of complete hysterics. That served to help no one, least of all the child... To Luna's surprise, the girl's glowing golden eyes gradually shifted in hue, taking on a cerulean shade much like her own, even after the glow in Luna's palm abruptly dissipated... "Sister, something has changed..." Celestia stopped trying to lift the blade, rapidly rising to examine the child for herself. "Did my magic harm her?"

"No, Luna..." Celestia assured, her palm glowing faintly as she waved it near the girl. While no longer in complete emotional destruction, the girl nonetheless seemed ill fond of having such things in close proximity. Regardless of apparent discomfort, however, there was little that could be done to avoid it. Some spells just required a closer arcane analysis... "Her magical signature isn't like anything I've seen before. It seems Draconic in nature, but it is morphing in a way that seems..." The Princess trailed off, her eyes suddenly widening with fascination. "It appears to be shifting to emulate your own. Luna, this may seem odd, but I think she's imprinting on you."

"Imprinting on me? As in... Wolves, or ducklings? That sort of imprinting?" Luna's voice carried with it understandable surprise, after all few beings could 'morph' their arcane signatures, few 'good' things at any rate. That it was shifting to match Luna's added an entirely new element to the mix... Children were known to share similar arcane signatures to their parents, typically that of the Mother's. Here was a child, not Luna's by blood, and yet beginning to share a feature thought limited to the scope of genetics. Meager as study of that scientific field was... Celestia could apparently see the wheels turning in her sister's head, she too likely understood the enormity of what was transpiring before their eyes. Not wanting to disturb the girl any further, the elder sister opted to only nod. "What should I do?"

"Normally, I'd say it would be best to send her to an orphanage." Celestia stated solemnly, her eyes turning towards the unmoving sword on the ground. For Luna, the word 'orphanage' could only conjure images of a time one thousand years past. Squalid conditions, cruel caretakers and detestable levels of oversight... Or lack thereof. She knew much had changed in those thousand years, but not nearly enough for her liking. The thought of sending the child that so desperately clung to her into a place as cold and unfeeling as the bureaucratic hellscape that was the care of the state was simply inconceivable. "Given the unusual circumstances of her arrival, her shifting magic signature, and her apparent inability to understand us... I think it would be best if she stayed with a member of the Mage's College, perhaps Dean Velvet. We can observe her more closely, perhaps unearth some knowledge on the nature of where she came from."

"She is not some lab rat to be poked and prodded!" Luna suddenly snapped, apparently taking Celestia by surprise. Indeed the harshness with which she'd spoken even took her off guard, but what Celestia proposed would surely be equally as damaging to the girl's mental health. Perhaps, Luna thought, it was some well of emotion left untapped throughout the centuries... The smoldering residue of the moment her own parents had departed the mortal coil, and her powerlessness to do anything about it, or any number of the countless dreams of family she'd given up on long ago. Reining in the unforeseen outrage, a frown gradually spreading over her lips, Luna shook her head. "I apologize... Twilight Velvet is a fine Mage, Sister, but... We cannot foist upon her a child of unknown origin and pray for the best. It is unfair to her, and unfair to the child..." She considered for a moment, that was really all the time she needed...

"No, sister... I will adopt her." Luna stated solemnly, once more it seemed Celestia was speechless. Luna took a deep breath through her nostrils, then gazed downwards at the tear stricken face. The girl stared up at her, eyes bleary and red, filled with an anguish that Luna felt all too familiar with. There were worse people to adopt a child, worse lives the child could live than becoming the daughter of a Princess. She looked at the still corpse of the fallen mother, taking in just how hard the woman had fought to defend the child now safely nestled in Luna's arms. That sort of sacrifice, that devotion, was something Luna simply couldn't ignore... Placing the child anywhere else would, in her eyes, dishonor all that the dead woman had fought for.

"Alright..." Celestia agreed after what must've seemed an eternity of minutes, Luna embraced the girl more gently. "I'll do all I can to help you, Luna, but she will be your daughter." At the uttering of these words, Luna and Celestia's eyes were both drawn to the sword laying upon the ground. The runes that had gone dark before now held a brilliant glow, this time taking on a distinctly violet hue. Their meaning as to how they pertained to the child remained unknown, but hopefully with proper study and research, something could soon be revealed...

Chapter 10

Situated well away from the Public sections of Canterlot Castle, the unassuming Eastern Guard Tower silently overlooked the Castle gardens, Canterlot, and the world beyond. Previously considered by the Castle Guard to be superfluous to the Castle's defenses, the tower had been left sitting empty for several decades. To the casual observer it was just as well maintained as the rest of the Castle, but beyond the surface level it had seldom seen the touch of so much as a feather duster. Partly because there was really no need to keep the abandoned tower clean, but mostly because someone unwittingly misplaced the key to the heavy steel lock keeping the tremendous steel security door shut. Much like the Enchantatarium, however, recent changes to the Royal Family necessitated the opening of an otherwise forgotten portion of the expansive palatial estate.

With the cessation of the National Council's meddling, Princess Orzel was finally willing to decide upon her new personal quarters. The Eastern Guard Tower was a heavily defensible hardened structure, capable of withstanding great amounts of damage without buckling under the strain. Should calamity ever strike Canterlot, should a repeat of the tragedy that befell Cesarski ever occur, Orzel could trust in the strength of the tower's walls to serve as a place where she could take refuge...

More importantly, however, the Eastern Guard Tower was situated in such a way that it afforded her a large amount of privacy. Though it was easily viewable from outside the Castle, the windows it possessed were too narrow for anyone to look into. More importantly, short of someone deliberately bypassing security, the odds of her running into anyone from the general public were virtually nill. That level of seclusion, coupled with its wide circular base and utilitarian construction, meant there was more than enough room for the Princess to tailor the tower to her various endeavors.

The lock was easily bypassed with the aid of a set of bolt cutters, and the bulk of the cobwebs removed within the first day. Those few spots that couldn't quite be reached by feather dusters had been taken care of with the aid of magic, and the entire tower now smelled faintly of lavender. Orzel felt rather guilty about the labor that went into the task, as she'd been more than prepared to do the majority of the work, mainly in the interest of not bothering the Castle Staff. It was only at Luna's insistence that she'd finally relented, there was no shame is seeking the help of professionals, in this case professional cleaners. When all was said and done, after a few weeks of work, the Eastern Guard Tower's interior was looking as spic and span as its exterior.

As it was abandoned before the advent of the electronic light bulb, the structure was currently dimly illuminated only by the light of low burning oil lanterns. An electrician was set to come along in a few days or so to hook the tower up to the rest of the Castle's wiring, but for now the lanterns would more than suffice. Orzel of course offered to do the work herself, as the intricacies of electrical wiring were an interest of hers, but Luna firmly declined that offer. The tower itself was by no means as high as the chambers occupied by Princess Celestia or Luna, still it stood at a lofty eighty feet tall. Much of its internal space was empty, the stairway affixed to the outer walls, leaving plenty of room for upward expansion.

Seven floors would later be added to the open space between the base and tower top, but for now only the bottom and top sections were directly habitable. Orzel planned to turn one of the future would-be floors into a library, another would be a sort of 'situation room', the third she would use to house her models and the rest...? She hadn't decided yet, though she'd possibly add a 'hoard' room. Somewhere she could put whatever baubles or books she collected into a big pile and lounge upon them as any other Drake did. The thought was oddly titillating, perhaps that was a topic she'd need to bring up in her next therapy session...

The top floor served as Orzel's general bed chamber, where she slept, read, and otherwise spent her leisure time. She was told it would take a year or so to carry out the other renovations she wanted to do, but that'd require her to leave the space so the workmen could get it done... Having only just moved in, Orzel wasn't ready to give up her room quite yet... She'd at least been able to convert the bottom section into a sort of haphazard 'tinker space'. While by no means the ideal working environment, it'd do for now, until she found a way to finance the acquisition of a dedicated workshop.

As Orzel so far only occupied the tower for three days, there was little in the way of personal decoration. Much of Orzel's book collection had reluctantly been returned to the shelves of the Castle Library, as had the phonograph borrowed there from. She'd been given one of her own, it and her record collection currently sat in silence at the top of the tower. Meanwhile, a small wooden framed radio rested on a table beside her workbench, filling the workshop with a type of 'Contemporary Draconic' music.

It was loud and brash, but altogether not unpleasant. Characterized by a hard bass line and an overall electronic sound, she found that it also aided in her acquisition of Draconic as a third language. It was already exceptionally similar to Szafirian, albeit clumsier and far less nuanced. At present she was getting perhaps three in every ten words, not great, but better than the day before.

The Princess primary focus, as was the case for the past several weeks, on the creation of a functioning animation enchantment... Something beyond the crude facsimile's she'd thus far managed. It hadn't been easy to convince Luna that she would be the very picture of caution, or to equally convince her she wouldn't attempt any 'advanced' enchanting until she was ready, but a reminder that she was also a Drake helped set the older Princess's mind at ease. Only recently had Orzel's grounding ended, allowing her to work unhindered on her own. Luna briefly attempted to get her to join an 'Enchanting club', but Orzel vehemently refused. While the rest of the country remained to be seen, she knew the people of Canterlot didn't like her. All they'd want to do is undermine her studies, or worse... Deliberately sabotage her work. None of them could be trusted.

There were so many projects Orzel wanted to begin, but many of them were still 'advanced' by Luna's standards, presenting significant risk of injury or other unwanted side effects. This likely would've been another hindrance exacerbated by whatever 'club' she might join, and she wasn't about to let some arbitrary group of rule makers dictate to her the research she'd pursue. The era of being dictated to in any way was thoroughly done with, and there was one group of people to whom Orzel felt compelled to answer to. The girl therefore did her best to convince Luna she was much safer than her Mother gave credit for, to varying degrees of effect, with the hopes of beginning her research in earnest.

For example, even if she were to again attempt to make a steam enchantment, which she'd sworn up and down she wouldn't, Drakes were far more resistant to heat than typical Equestrians. A steam explosion that might scald an average Spell-Caster would be relaxing to Orzel... Of course, there was the downside of having all but the hottest of baths or showers feel bone chillingly cold. She shuddered to imagine what winter would bring, though for the moment the chilling effect was restricted to water. That change, like so many others, had started not long after her return from Neighport News. It'd been gradual at first, yet much like the growing definition of her muscles, or her unthinkable desire to eat gemstones, it eventually asserted itself obtrusively into her daily thoughts... Along with half a dozen other physical changes that had taken hold as of late. Once again, much to her annoyance, a significant increase in height wasn't among them. She'd grown maybe an inch, if that much.

At present the Princess stood upon an overturned apple crate, as it was the only means with which she could better reach the surface of her workbench and the portable enchanters tablet thereupon. Using a portable tablet was far less effective than the Enchantatarium, but Luna was still dubious about granting her access to wider facilities at present, and at any rate this project was little more than a proof of concept. Her hair was concealed by a headscarf bearing a amber floral pattern, which covered her head, neck, and eventually terminated at her shoulders. In Szafiria, such garments were typically worn a means of displaying which God or Goddess in the Imperial Pantheon one worshiped, among other things. Some were worn purely for the sake of being fashionable. In this case, following the launch of ESS Sokol, Orzel had chosen it because she scarcely recalled a time when her Birth Mother was without one... Orzel still missed her desperately... That that the scarf helped keep stray hairs out of her face while she worked was also a plus.

Her almond locks now grew past her shoulders, as there was no time recently to set up a visit to get a haircut. Her schedule of studies, lessons with Luna, and personal research simply didn't allow it... Besides, like the headscarf, women with exceptionally long hair were considered fashionable in the Empire, and the style was starting to grow on her... The girl chuckled slightly at her unintended pun. She doubted Imperial fashion was that simple, there was likely some specific sort of hair style that would've been the talk of Cesarski, but Orzel had little to go on other than the few brief conversations she'd had with her Mother on the subject. It was just another reminder that her links to her old home grew more tenuous with every passing day, and she often wondered if half the things she insisted on doing weren't just pitiful affectations, or misplaced attempts to rekindle some sort of nostalgia...

The girl fully embraced her new identity of Princess Orzel, Daughter of Princess Luna, but every passing day since that acceptance left her feeling less like Orzel z Glosem-Smoka, Daughter of Sokol z Glosem-Smoka. Even so, she could count on one hand just how many people knew her full name. Including Doctor Scratch, the total came to four... Once her parents' friends numbered in the dozens, and all had known Orzel's true name...

Much of the turmoil she felt within came from her own shifting world view, and perhaps most importantly, her place in that world. It wasn't as if she'd had a choice to decline the role of Princess, it was just the cost of her new life in this world... Nothing in life was ever free, so she wasn't about to start blaming other people. Even if she wanted to blame someone, it wasn't as if it would do anything... Much as she'd come to trust Luna, Orzel still wasn't exactly sure she wouldn't just be told to shut up... Not in her heart, at any rate, and in the scheme of feeling better that was really all that mattered.

Adjusting the white lab coat she wore above her tunic and trousers, the girl reached over to the radio and changed the station until the pounding sounds of music were replaced by a talk show. The fast paced beat just didn't feel appropriate anymore... She wasn't really paying attention to what was being said either way, though it sounded like a news anchor or some other similar broadcast.

Laid out before her was an assortment of enchanter's supplies and around twelve humanoid figures. They were one sixth scale, made from metal and held together with tiny springs, chains, and screws, painted to look like generic people. She'd based them on an action figure she'd seen on a trip to acquire her latest model ship, though she'd tweaked the design as needed. The articulation at the joints was greater, and being made from metal granted them superior durability. Originally she'd dressed them in scale cotton replicas of Lunar Marine Uniforms, but then altered the colors of the uniforms to be more tan, speckled with other earth tones. Now she was putting the finishing touches on the runes she'd hidden within their helmets, also made of metal.

These would be what allowed them to animate and move about on their own, though without any degree of consciousness... Similar to the automatons Orzel read of in the latest in science fiction novels, as the helmets were simply too small to do anything more advanced. Granted, she wouldn't make them conscious even if she could, for a myriad of reasons, mostly moral ones. No, they would serve her purposes far better as unfeeling machines. Tightening the straps on the last toy soldier's helmet, Orzel cleared her throat and donned a pair of tinted safety goggles over her spectacles.

"From my lips into your ears, these words must be clear..." Orzel stated commandingly, looking at the impassive faces of the action figures impassively. Part of her was reminded of the various soldier's she'd watch marching about the Castle walls, and that had been the reason for the change in uniform. Those men so dutifully patrolling the ramparts weren't automatons, and the tan uniforms created a sort of disconnect. She shook her head, she needed to focus. "Up you shall stand at my behest, so that my theories I may test!"

She watched the familiar blue glow of magic flow away from her lips, lingering in the air for a moment before splitting into twelve thin tendrils that descended upon the enchanted helmets. Small as they were, several experiments revealed that Arcanium bonded incredibly well to the material, though not as well as plastic. Metal provided more mass, however, which allowed a higher density of runes. The runes in question glowed faintly for a few moments, but nothing happened beyond that.

Slumping her shoulders, Orzel lifted the safety goggles to check one of her nearby notebooks, rereading her conclusions so far. She'd followed every step she could think of... Maybe her rune scribing simply wasn't accurate enough yet? Maybe her incantation hadn't been powerful enough? Honestly, while the job of rhyming spells was getting easier with practice, it was proving to be one of the most limiting things in regards to her studies. With a frustrated sigh, the girl began searching her workbench for her thesaurus...

"...mass celebration from rural communities coinciding with mass protests in the cities most affected, namely Manehattan and Los Pegasus, and Applewood. Numerous Non-Aligned citizens and councilors have banded together to create what many are controversially deeming the 'Black Crown Party'." A woman's voice echoed through the workshop, only now registering in the girl's mind. Orzel's eyes lifted to the radio, she'd almost entirely tuned it out of her mind...

In that moment Orzel brought her palm to her forehead with a sharp 'smack'. Of course the incantation hadn't worked! Her magic was verbal, and someone else was 'talking' in the background. It typically wasn't an issue for regular spells or enchantments, but untested enchantments were finicky. If she ever wanted to prove Enchanting was more a science than an art, she'd need to be more conscientious... Ideally operating in as sterile an environment as possible... Something she'd have to consider when setting up her dedicated workshop.

"The rally held in Unicorn Falls was the largest staged so far by the new party, with conservative estimates putting the number of attendees at over fifty thousand." The woman continued evenly. "Following the passage of Bill Two-Fifty, there are fears among Noble Party officials that 'Seditious Nightmare Radicals' are attempting to infiltrate the political mainstream. Among the agenda of these new 'Black Crowns' is an expansion of what they term 'Lunar Primacy', further sparking concern over a resurgence of Pro-Thestralese sentiment-"

Orzel switched off the radio, plunging the cavernous chamber into silence, before looking back at the creations laying before her. Bill 250 and the Black Crowns were all that anyone seemed to care to talk about lately, though admittedly with good reason. Both had effectively devastated the Noble Party's stranglehold on Equestrian politics, to a point it was unlikely they'd ever recover. The bill wouldn't come into effect for another month, so technically the Council still had over five hundred members, but the powers of the superfluous councilors were all but completely stripped.

On a deeper level, deeper than perhaps she cared to admit, Orzel took some shameful joy in seeing her former tormentors culled from their once unassailable positions of power. Despite the best efforts of her Mother and Aunt Celestia to keep her neutral, she thoroughly despised the Noble Party, and almost everything it stood for. Their pompous arrogance, their posturing and demanding nature, piously acting as if they had the best interests of the nation at heart. Orzel knew better, they didn't care about Equestria, they cared only about themselves, just like the Empire. They'd cheat, steal, and swindle, do whatever they had to in order to maintain their power.

No, no amount of attempting to remain impartial could quite quell her bitter resentment. Orzel wanted them to suffer as she had suffered, to feel powerless, to look upon the looming deadline with unspeakable dread... The perverse sort of pleasure she took in that suffering had a sobering effect. It was a topic that she and Doctor Scratch had covered once or twice, though little progress was made. As much as she hated the Nobles, she resented herself more for continuing to despise them.

That wasn't what Princesses were supposed to do, they weren't supposed to single out one group of their subjects to hate. Moreover, in her view, it signified that on some level the damnable curs still held power over her, they still lived in her mind rent free... That only further fed her ire, and because of her sensibilities she would be forced to pay closer attention to how she handled the Nobles in the future... To ensure that her hatred didn't influence her decisions too heavily. Perhaps the Noble Party would soon die out, at least in its current form, alleviating her hatred in its passing.

The birth of the 'Black Crown Party' proved an equally interesting, and welcome, development. From what Orzel could gather, the name was a reference to the Obsidian Crown, likewise the party drew much of its symbolism from the long defunct Thestral Imperium. In a sense, Orzel pondered, Bill 250 might've 'bombed' Equestrian politics back to the Pre-Nightmare Age.

The Black Crowns were comprised mostly of Thestrals and other disenfranchised enclaves of Equestrian citizens, both native born and naturalized. Among their positions was a heavy reduction of government overreach, a gutting of the bloated bureaucratic system, increased military spending and an emphasis on re-asserting Equestria's position as the world's leading 'Great Power'. They felt that Luna would better suited to the role of 'Primary' Princess, and thus would go a long way to achieving their ends.

While officially there was no such position, the wide consensus saw Celestia as the de facto 'Primary', after all someone had to be in charge of the people in charge. With the sudden materialization of a new united political faction, events were unfolding now that previously she never would've dreamt possible. Nothing like this had ever transpired in the Empire, not to her knowledge at least. There was only ever one Party, the Party. Just as the Nobles, it'd ruled with an iron fist, only in the case of the Empire there was no gentle guiding hand like Celestia or Luna to steer it away from the darkest depths of tyranny.

Those she'd been told were dissidents, radicals or insurrectionists were, in essence, the 'Black Crowns' of her world. The way in which both the Nobles and the Party labeled their opponents was uncanny. Deviation was treason, calls for change were sedition, uniformity was 'unity', and anything that went against that was 'radical' or 'Pro-Thestralese'... Willingly aided by their propagandists parading as newspapers, the Nobles would attempt to cudgel the new Black Crowns into submission. Orzel doubted they'd be successful. Successful as they'd been, the MIS had never fully stamped out dissent, and the Nobles were nowhere near as competent.

Ironically, the more she thought about it, the less she wanted to think about it. At a certain point, all the talking heads on both sides of the issue just blended together, and ultimately all that did was give Orzel a headache. That was why she would rather focus on her enchanting and engineering studies, such as the very task she was supposed to be working on in that moment.

That briefly raised the idea of creating a larger version of the action figures, possibly even life sized, and enchanting it to serve as a sort of 'mechanized assistant'. Something that could nudge her whenever her mind wandered off, not to mention being able reach the top shelves in the library... That alone would be worth the effort. There would be plenty of practical applications for such an arcane puppet, the sort that could very well make someone fabulously wealthy, if they cared for that kind of thing... Then again, making money would allow her to pursue more research, which could allow her to make more money, which would lead to more research... The girl sighed, once again she was letting her mind wander. Best to get back to the topic at hand.

With the radio dispatched and her mind returning to the moment, Orzel lowered her safety goggles and repeated her incantation, slowly and clearly, in Equestrian. The air was suddenly charged with static as once again the magic flowed forth, this time illuminating not just the helmets, but the entirety of the twelve unmoving figures. Arcs of cerulean lightning crackled through the air, the figures slowly levitating from their place on the tablet. They glowed as brightly as a welding torch, and if it weren't for the tinted goggles she might've been forced to look away... A wide grin rapidly spread across Orzel's face, as the sensation of so much raw arcane energy coursing through her and into her enchantments was... Quite invigorating...

The flow of magic ceased in one great flash of energy, and just like that the light faded away. The Princess watched the action figures intently behind the lenses of her safety goggles. At first she feared once again that her incantation would prove to be a failure, at least until one of their little rubber boots twitched. The toy soldiers gradually began moving more smoothly, pushing themselves up from their laying position and standing. Inclining their tiny heads upwards, all twelve figures were looking at her, awaiting her command. She could hardly contain a squeal of excited joy at that, clapping her hands together before quickly pausing for a moment to remove the safety goggles and outline her findings about the incantation in her notes.

"Brilliant!" She cheered, taking a moment to actually pump her fist. It didn't last long, there was still work to be done. "Now... Let us test your basic functions. Come to attention!" Orzel stated carefully when she was done, and as one the small contingent of small soldiers did precisely that, their little metal joints clanking ever so softly with each tiny movement. "How about your balance and multitasking? Present arms, then... What else?" The group saluted accordingly, then surprisingly all opted to stand on one foot, which brought another wide grin to Orzel's face.

Taking her pen from the breast pocket of her lab coat, she once again quickly began to quickly jot down her latest observations in her notebook. The action figures somehow knew what she meant, even though she hadn't given specific details on the task, which made her wonder just what else the figures could understand. They were still incapable of independent thought, but their ability to troubleshoot vague commands had her curious about what else they might be able to do. Setting her pen before the group, she pointed at it.

"One of you, pick up the pen." She ordered in Szafirian, and to her continuing amazement the figure closest to the pen knelt down and picked it up with ease. Twirling it several times, as she'd expect of a soldier manipulating a spear, the figure then offered the pen up to Orzel. "I wonder..." She mumbled, gently taking the pen. "What is half of twelve?" The group split into two groups of six. "How about eight minus four?" First two of the figures joined a group of six, who in turn separated into two of four, which lead to Orzel emitting an uncontrollable joyful squee of excitement.

"You can do mathematics!" She added giddily, practically dancing in place atop her sturdy apple crate. "Those are simple equations, but we shall need more of you to solve the question of if you are capable of advanced multiplication! So many questions... Maybe it is congruent to the actual number of figurines? Possibly a sort of 'combined computing'?" The girl rattled off quickly, rubbing at her chin as the thoughts flooded her mind. "I need to calculate some numbers, but given what I have learned in your construction I think I could easily create a dozen more? Maybe two dozen? What do you think?" The figures stared at her unblinkingly... Blushing with slight embarrassment that she'd essentially just been talking to what amounted to walking toasters, the girl couldn't contain another happy coo. "Oh, just wait until Mother sees you!"

Her excitement was abruptly shattered when three stern thuds rapped against the steel door... Someone's ears must've been burning. Cringing at the sound, Orzel looked around and spotted a familiar clock on a shelf mounted above the workbench. It was nearly seven in the evening, and suddenly Orzel remembered just how significant the night would be. Jotting down her final notes and returning the pen to her lab coat, the Princess let out a dejected sigh. The tunic and trousers beneath were comfortable, but hardly acceptable attire for a high class social function. Tonight was the Grand Galloping Gala, apparently said to be the most 'high class' social function of them all, and she'd completely forgotten to get ready! Three more heavy knocks echoed through the room, Orzel could just picture the annoyed Princess Luna standing beyond the door.

"Open the door, Orzel. We are running late!" Luna's voice commanded, and like that the girl's shoulder's slumped. Tucking her hands into her lab coat's pockets, the girl sullenly approached the door and wordlessly turned the knob... She'd need to see about installing a lock later on, maybe just a new door. The twelve action figures reoriented themselves into a loose mob, watching their creator return towards the workbench while the door swung inwards, propelled by a small glow of magic. Orzel paid it little mind as she disregarded the apple crate to stand closer to eye level with the impassively faced action figures. "By the stars, you have yet to even dress?" Her Mother chided, Orzel simply hummed and straightened one of the soldiers' helmets before stepping aside. The girl looked at her Mother, the woman was wearing the most ornate ball gown Orzel had ever seen. Luna's eyes soon fell upon the quietly standing action figures, which wordlessly saluted in greeting at the other Princess. "I see. You lost track of time once again..."

"Sorry..." Orzel apologized half-heartedly, awkwardly kicking at the floor. She wasn't entirely excited to attend the Gala to begin with, especially now that she'd managed to complete her latest work. "Look, though, they know simple mathematics, and understand Szafirian!" Luna nodded, approaching the workbench and examining the action figures with evident interest. "What is two plus two?" The girl asked in her native tongue, and a group of four of the toy soldiers stepped forward. Orzel could see a faint glint of pride in her mother's eyes, which in turn made her feel slightly better than before. "You were correct, using a humanoid figure made the conceptual work much easier to grasp, though it would have been even simpler had you shown me."

"I had every confidence you would find your way if left to your own devices." Luna responded, conjuring in her palm a small glowing ball of magic. Gradually it coalesced into a humanoid figure like those on the table, though as the light faded it took the apparent form of a woman in a gown and wearing a small tiara. Unlike the toy soldiers, Orzel saw no visible joints or seams, and the figure moved with much more fluid motion. "As for the mathematical and linguistic skills... Unless you enchanted them with such abilities, I am afraid they are not as capable as you might think." The woman tapped the side of her head. "They are tied to your mind. Whatever skills you know, they 'know', albeit in a far more limited capacity." Orzel deflated slightly, but Luna's smile didn't diminish.

"Cheer up, this is still a great achievement!" The woman assured, pointing to the figure she'd conjured herself. "Soon you will be able to craft and even conjure puppets with far more dexterity." The action figures saluted the small princess as Luna wordlessly directed it to join the metal guard contingent. "The next step towards that accomplishment, however, will take time... Carry on in your other studies, do not become overly focused on the 'animation' facet of enchanting..." The Princess shook her head, smiling faintly. "That will need to wait for tomorrow, unfortunately. We are already late as it is, hurry along and get dressed."

"I have studies, Mother, surely they take precedence..." Orzel started, but Luna shook her head. "Fine..." The girl groaned as she removed her lab coat and hung it on a wall hook beside the work bench. Looking at her creations, she smiled and patted one of them on the head. "Rest easy for now, we will have much to do tomorrow." The little men once again saluted, then the toy soldiers locked up and fell over with dull metallic thuds... Deactivated for the moment. Luna's own conjured figurine vanished in a puff of blue smoke, leaving little trace that it had ever even existed. "So... Should I wear the burgundy or the indigo?"

"The burgundy, most certainly." Luna responded as Orzel approached the stone stairway spiraling upwards along the tower's inner wall. "After all, I am already wearing indigo." The woman gestured at her own gown, Orzel nodded quietly, it probably would've been bad form to wear matching outfits. They were still working on building the public impression that Orzel was more than just a smaller version of Princess Luna. Thankfully, the constant coverage of Bill 250 had considerably reduced the coverage of Orzel's 'alien' origins, and that made it easier for the girl to distinguish herself. "Do try to hurry, as I said, we are already running behind schedule. Twilight Sparkle's assistant Spike is in attendance tonight, and he expressed an interest in meeting you." Luna's tone was distinctly dubious at that statement. "Perhaps this is a chance to make a friend."

"Yes... A friend... Of course." Orzel responded, unable to keep from rolling her eyes at the thought. Lately it seemed Luna's encouraging of her social activity was increasing, more and more Orzel was urged to 'spend time' with people, to start 'rubbing elbows' and 'making friends'... As if that was even hypothetically possible. The girl had read enough Statesman to know that a Princess was more likely to be stabbed in the back by one of her 'friends' than any of her most outspoken of enemies. Excepting perhaps her bodyguards, her family, and Doctor Scratch, Orzel couldn't see every person seeking her 'friendship' as anything other than a potential threat.

Again, Luna insisted that Statesman's work wasn't to be taken at face value, that there was a nuance Orzel was missing, but it all seemed so clear to the teen. Given her highly placed position, it was more than obvious that this 'Spike' character only came to the Gala because he wanted access to the new Princess... He might've been friends with Twilight Sparkle, but to Orzel that mattered little. Most people were dangerous, those that purported to want to be her friend even more so. How could anyone want to be friends with her after reading all the newspapers? They called her unseemly, illegitimate, weak, frumpy, and a whole host of other labels she didn't care to reflect upon... No, how could anyone read such vitriol and still legitimately want to be her friend?

With that 'cheerful' thought Orzel opened the door at the top of the stairs, then stepped into her room and trudged gloomily towards her wardrobe. The room wasn't much to look at, not yet, though she had moved some of her basic furniture in. Her new mahogany desk, a gift from Aunt Celestia, was near one of the numerous arrow slits running along the tower exterior. It was apparently enchanted to be nigh indestructible, which her Aunt insisted was a must have feature for any furniture owned by an adolescent Drake. The arrow slit above the desk allowed a sliver of moonlight to pour through onto an unfinished model of an Equestrian Navy collier. As per usual, her bed was made to exacting standards, with corners pulled so tight one could bounce a coin upon the surface. Her stuffed animals were similarly arrayed across the front of a decorative throw pillow, set up in order from largest to smallest.

They served little purpose other than being cute, and that was more than enough. Prior to coming to Equestria she'd never been allowed much in the way of toys, they were too fragile, too expensive, or some mixture of the two. The closest she ever came to a plaything was a little figure she'd fashioned from twigs and twine, that and a stuffed bear that her Mother had handed down from her own childhood... Undoubtedly lost in the flames of Cesarski, like everything else the girl ever knew or loved. Now in Equestria, the friendly smiles of stuffed unicorns and other plush forms filled her with that odd sense of relief she couldn't quite put into words...

With every day the world grew more complex and dangerous, requiring the girl to take a hard and cynical view of everything. So sometimes Orzel needed something cute and soft to break things up when she went to sleep. The nightmares proved her only respite from the stresses of the waking world, 'respite' in this case being used in the most liberal of senses. Bearing in mind those other 'happy' thoughts, and considering she was about to toss herself into a room filled with political sharks, a little relief sounded good about then.

The Princess approached her bed and picked up the most cherished of her collection, a brown plush bear, around the size of a loaf of bread. The simplest of the lot by far, with mismatched button eyes and slightly matted fur. Orzel had found him during one of her walks within the gardens, near where she and Sokol first arrived in Equestria. Discarded and alone, the bear felt oddly familiar, and she imagined it looked much like the one her mother had given her. The latter was never seen clearly enough for Orzel to know for certain what it actually looked like. It couldn't be the same bear, however, for two simple reasons. Firstly, that would be virtually impossible. The second became clear when Orzel hugged the bear, then heard a familiar click in his soft round belly.

"You're my favoritest friend!" The bear, whom she'd dubbed 'Wojtek', cheerily declared in a voice laced with static. Orzel knew Wojtek wasn't alive, he wasn't conscious or capable of feeling, but... The words, hearing him call her his friend, somehow meant more to her than they had any right to. Maybe because he was an inanimate object, and therefore incapable of lying or insulting her. He was the only 'friend' she'd thus far felt comfortable confiding into, because... He couldn't hurt her, like a real person might.

In this instance the bear's soothing words helped to blunt the anxious dread rapidly welling up within the Princess that clutched him in her arms. Orzel set her jaw, trying to force herself into stoic repose, to disregard the surging emotional pain... She couldn't afford to appear weak, not in front of the Gala attendees, she wouldn't allow them any more ammunition to use against her.

"Do you wanna play!" The bear added as Orzel squeezed him again.

"More than you know..." Orzel responded somberly, yet despite her sudden frustration she gently placed Wojtek back on her bed, right where he belonged, patting him on the head. It wasn't Wojtek's fault he'd struck a nerve, those were just the phrases he was programmed by his creator to say. She had to wonder just where he'd come from... If could actually feel emotion, would he feel pain over losing everything he used to know? Would he mourn the world he'd lost...?

Obviously not, he was a stuffed animal. Just a combination of fabric, thread, buttons, and some puffy cotton stuffy. Did his previous owner even notice he was missing? If they did, did they care? Or was Wojtek just some 'thing' to them... Something to be discarded so easily discarded. Orzel doubted the latter to be the case. Wojtek was sewn by hand, and he'd had various busted seams sewn back together numerous times. If any stranger from Canterlot had looked at him, happened upon him in the Gardens as Orzel had, odds were they would've picked him up and tossed him into the nearest garbage can. They would callously toss away all that work, all the little bits of humanity imbued in fabric through the loving care of his creator.

Orzel had to stop herself again... All these thoughts of abandonment and callous disposal of childhood playthings weren't getting her anywhere, they were just the latest manifestation of her ongoing state of melancholy... Even now, the excitement she'd felt just minutes before was fast being devoured. The seemingly permanent depressive mood always lingered in the wings of her mind, eager to seize upon any opportunity to drag her down... Tonight was bound to be no different.

Approaching her wardrobe, the girl cleared her throat and finally asserted a look of stone-faced resolve. The Gala couldn't be avoided, not now, not if Luna had anything to say about it. Panic joined depression in creeping in from all sides, Orzel's thoughts were spiraling out of control, just as they had so many times before... This time, however, she felt as if everything had been dialed up to unparalleled extremes. She only barely managed not to completely descend into a panic attack, struggling hard to pull herself out of the dive. As Doctor Scratch was so fond of reminding her, she had to ask herself a simple question. How was panicking going to help her? What good did it serve her in that moment? None, none whatsoever... Freaking out or snapping at people wasn't going to make her night any less harrowing.

Removing her headscarf, the teen shook her hair free and opened the wardrobe. It was an ornate wooden thing, not unlike the one she'd had in her old room, except this one was tall enough and deep enough for her to theoretically stand in. One of the doors' interior panels held a full length mirror, reflecting Orzel's somewhat sloppy appearance and the bed at her rear. Standing there, ponderously looking over the various gowns and dresses hanging within the wardrobe, she noticed one of the stuffed animals in the mirror's reflection was out of alignment. Odd, considering she'd just been standing there. More importantly, she didn't recall having a stuffed mouse, and stranger still it looked remarkably detailed for a toy. How she'd missed it was beyond her, but it's placement beside Wojtek made no sense as it was much smaller.

Once more approaching the bed, in the hopes of further forestalling the inevitable, Orzel reached out to pick up the mouse. On closer inspection, it looked not unlike those she'd occasionally see roaming the Castle gardens. Her fingers wrapped around it, and suddenly she became aware of warm fur and a desperately beating heart. The stuffed mouse wasn't stuffed at all, it was a living, breathing animal, and it made this fact known even more clearly by emitting a high pitched keening shriek while it flailed in Orzel's grasp.

"Kurwa!" A startled Orzel swore in Szafirian, the first time she'd ever uttered such a word to her recollection, recoiling from the yipping, squirming, wriggling creature. The Princess jumped several feet back, sending her spectacles clattering to the floor, her heart pounding loudly in her ears.

The mouse meanwhile let out another chittering sound, bolting from the bed and leaping onto the Princess's chest. Its tiny claws helped it cling to the fabric as it clambered around her torso, likely searching for any means of toppling its colossal prey. With her thoughts moving suddenly far too fast to process, Orzel swatted at the creature with growing panic. Essentially blind, the Princess could do nothing but flail and smack herself in a frenzy. The silky black fur of mouse, coupled with its comparatively small size, blended surprisingly well with the blurred fabric of her tunic.

"Mother!" Orzel hardly recognized her own voice, so high pitched and frightened as it was... After all she'd seen, all she'd endured? All that she could think about was the night Cesarski had burned, when so many chitinous forms viciously piled onto screaming people. The mouse was small, almost pleasantly soft, yet it clung to her like one of those wretched beasts all those months ago. In another world, in another life... She knew then why chittering squeaks and indiscriminate scurrying filled her with such terror. A flash of light filled the room, and even though Luna was hidden in the blur of Orzel's struggling eyes, it was no less reassuring. "Get it off! Get it off, get it off, get it ooooff!"

"Stand still!" Sternly ordered Luna, Orzel did her best to comply, at least until she felt the mouse start making its way towards the opening of her shirt collar. With the young Princess panting and still swatting at herself, the ordeal was abruptly halted when Luna's magic pulled the chittering rodent free from her torso. It levitated in the air, a foot or so from Orzel, going abruptly silent save for a few frustrated squeaks which Orzel assumed were directed at her.

"There..." Luna declared as the teen dropped to the floor, intent on searching for her spectacles... At least until she both felt and heard a sharp snapping 'crunch' beneath her right knee. Sighing in frustration, Orzel struggled to feel her way towards her bed. "Never fear, this is why we have spares..." Luna stated a bit more calmly, using her magic once again, this time to summon a pair of spectacles directly in Orzel's hand. The Princess placed them on her face, returning the world into clarity as she pushed herself back up onto her feet. "Are you alright, were you bitten?"

"I... I think I am fine." Orzel responded, staring at the mouse as it floated in the air, held aloft by a faint indigo glow. It was one thing to see a mouse from a distance in the gardens, but to have one so close... It stared at her with expressive eyes, the tiny round orbs were oddly golden in color, not unlike how her own had once been. It didn't look angry, or menacing, not with it just hovering there... No snapping teeth, no squeaking, just a faint chittering sound. It almost sounded... Playful? Orzel, however, was no longer in any mood for play. Her nerves were all but shot in the brief altercation, and one question barged to the forefront through all the turmoil. "How did it get in here? I thought this tower was cleared by the exterminator..."

"It was." Luna grunted, levitating the mouse closer to her and taking it into her palm. To Orzel's surprise, the creature didn't seem all that hostile, allowing her Mother to gently scratch under its chin. "I do not believe our visitor is here by accident. Sense its arcane presence and you shall understand." Orzel stared at her mother, still utterly bewildered, but also curious... At the very least, if she was lucky, she could hopefully convince her mother she was too shaken to attend the gala. So she played along, mumbling the 'Identify' incantation that by now came with so much ease. She sensed Luna's magic, obviously, as she was holding the animal, but... She also sensed her own, almost identical to that of Luna's, just slightly different. "You, my dear, have a acquired a familiar."

"I do not want, nor do I require, a familiar..." Orzel stated, her heart rate gradually returning to normal as she crossed her arms, glaring indignantly at the relaxing creature. "Let alone a familiar that accosts me so!" Luna simply grinned at her, patting the mouse on its head and scratching behind one of its ears. Aside from her continued confusion as to just what had happened to her, Orzel's first concern was more towards how her Mother was going to respond. The young Princess was only just allowed to return to personal enchanting, and she could only imagine how long she'd be grounded this time if she didn't set the record straight. "I made no effort to summon such a creature, Mother. I would never do such a thing without first consulting you."

"Never fear, Orzel." Luna assured, approaching Orzel and offering her the mouse. The girl stared at it as if it carried a plague, for all she knew it probably did. "While most familiars must indeed be summoned, that is not always the case. If a mage reaches a certain level of power, or for any other number of reasons, a familiar is inadvertently created to serve as a sort of... Companion. As I recall, Celestia's familiar Philomena arrived with little warning as well." Orzel looked at Luna, then back to the mouse, then down at her trembling hands. "That leaves several explanations, but I deduce it has to do with your latest achievement. Your power is growing, further confirmation to me that soon you may be ready to begin taking on more complex enchantments..."

"You are certain it is... Safe?" Asked Orzel, her Mother nodded and held the mouse out to Orzel. The girl took the mouse into her palm, running one of her hands along the length of its soft fuzzy body. The creature let out another high pitched squeak, nuzzling its head more deeply into Orzel's palm. She couldn't keep a small smile from breaking through as the mouse maneuvered itself onto its back, apparently demanding the Princess rub its belly. Looking it over in this context, it became easily apparent that the creature was a female... Idly rubbing the mouse's belly, the girl looked back at Luna. "Must I still attend the Gala? Now that I have a familiar to apparently care for, maybe it would be wise to learn more about mice?"

"An admirable attempt to avoid the night's festivities, but nonetheless you must still attend." Her Mother spoke chidingly, reaching out and gently plucking the mouse from Orzel's grasp. "I will keep an eye on your new furry companion while you change." Orzel sighed, ultimately conceding to the fact she couldn't avoid the Gala any longer. "As I said, burgundy would suit you well. Do try to hurry, I have a few items to give you when you are fully ready." With that cryptic encouragement, Luna made her way to the door. She closed the barricade behind her, starting her descent to the bottom of the tower, leaving Orzel once again alone in her chamber. The girl looked to the floor and mumbled a few brief phrases, her magic accordingly collecting the shattered remains of her old spectacles and setting them on her bedside table for later disposal.

It took her a total of fifteen minutes or so to swap from her comfortable attire to a rather extravagant burgundy ball gown. It wasn't nearly as puffed outwards as Luna's, but it was nonetheless a cumbersome garment, including various frills and embroidery in amber thread. As she had with her visit to the Naval Yard, and all other public appearances since, the girl draped a striped sash around herself, alternating between white light blue, much like the Equestrian Naval Jack. The sash served no official purpose, existing more to add some contrast and asymmetry. On some level, she supposed, it served as a symbol of her triumph over the machinations of the National Council, and commitment to the Navy... Or perhaps she was just reading too deeply into things. With that sorted she restored her headscarf to its place about her head and shoulders. Straightening the hem of her gown, Orzel stared at herself in the mirror... Momentarily sighing, she cleared her throat.

"Though my features I would prefer plain, from this wish I must refrain. A different appearance, the crowd does seek, so come forth alterations to my cheeks." The spell was one that Luna taught her following the christening of ESS Sokol, and in this instance her magic applied the barest minimum of makeup. She supposed it would've looked better if she had something besides the headscarf on. Luna reclaimed the Obsidian Crown for the Gala... Orzel couldn't complain, by all rights it belonged to her Mother, but by now she felt almost naked without it. "No doubt the Nobles will be pleased." Orzel grumped, closing the wardrobe and glancing back at her bed. Crossing the stony floor, Orzel picked up Wojtek and held him close again. "At least you do not judge me..."

"I love you!" The bear cheered as she squeezed it one final time, nearly cutting the Princess to the quick. Setting Wojtek back on the bed, Orzel once more set her jaw, taking on the stoic mask she had adopted from Luna's example... The expression was almost comfortable at this point, having been broken in like leather. Rapidly descending the tower stairway, the Princess had to be careful to brace herself against the wall, as she'd traded her trusty work boots for dainty formal shoes. Arriving at the base of the former Eastern Guard Tower, she found Princess Luna still affectionately petting the yet-to-be-named mouse.

It didn't take Orzel long to spot a pair of wooden boxes resting on the workbench, the polished brass fittings and accents glinting even in the dim lantern light. One was around four feet long and half a foot wide, the other was more akin to a cigar box, though considerably taller in height. Both were hewn from redwood, polished to such a finish that Orzel almost swore she could see her reflection in them. Both bore a gem encrusted crest recessed into the center of the front faces. An obsidian black shield, bearing a polished bronze dragon. It was a rough facsimile to the emblem of the Szafirian Navy, though only in general concept. The dragon depicted was far more fearsome, in a way that practically oozed martial strength, clutching a wrench in one claw and a scroll in the other. Drawing closer to the workbench, Orzel could additionally see that the shield was inset with white gemstones that glittered like stars...

"Surprise." Said Luna in a subdued voice, setting the mouse on the workbench as she approached the boxes herself. Orzel stared at the two containers, unsure of what to make of them. Her eyes flitted to Luna, asking the silent question. "It was high time that you have a crown of your own, and a symbol to adorn it... I have the moon, as you can see, and Celestia has the sun. These are our 'cutie marks', to use the modern term. As a Drake, you do not have one, so..." The girl glanced to the Obsidian Crown that rested atop Luna's head, then back at the boxes. She'd heard talk of 'cutie marks' before, but she'd never actually seen one... She didn't want to contemplate just where they were on a person's body... "I hope you do not mind the selection, it seemed an appropriate choice."

"I... Do not know what to say." Orzel mumbled quietly, running her hand along the surface of the longer box. It was half the height of the other, roughly four inches tall. Looking at Luna as if to ask permission, she received but the barest of nods. Orzel opened the long box first, its hinges moving effortlessly, to reveal a sight that the girl had never dreamed of seeing again. Within the box, resting on a bed of red silk, was her family's sword. To her surprise, despite being forged from ancient steel, it was taking on a distinctly bronze hue. Examining the runes scribed along the length of the blade, a small chuckle escaped her lips.

She recognized some of them now as a security enchantment, making the sword wieldable only by those trusted by its owner, and rendering it quite unmovable to anyone else... Judging by a braided gold lanyard, it could still be 'lifted' for the purpose of moving it. There were other enchantments imbued in the sword, though at present they remained advanced beyond Orzel's understanding. The runes hardly retained any magic in her old world, only enough to alter themselves when the sword passed from one owner to another, but they would undoubtedly be far more effective here in Equestria. It was more proof that, long ago, her ancestors once walked this realm with powers unimaginable to their descendants, powers she'd since started the path of retaking as her own...

"You are returning it to me? Just like that?" Luna nodded as Orzel reached into the box, taking hold of the hilt. "This sword has been in my family for generations..." With an ease that surprised even herself, Orzel lifted the blade and examined it closely. Both Luna and the mouse looked on, the young Princess gave the sword a few test thrusts. It was the first time since that fateful night she'd held it, but it was still as light and nimble as she remembered it to be. "Mother told me that it came with our ancestors from the 'Old Realm'... It was the only item with any sort of magic I had ever seen before coming here." Orzel added, solemnly twirling the blade, though with her inexperience she nearly lost her grip. Despite this, she remained unfazed. "Now that I know that this is the Old Realm, perhaps, one day, I may see what else it is capable of."

Resting the flat of the blade on her fingers, she found it to be perfectly balanced, even despite the trials and ordeals of countless centuries. How many of her foremothers and forefathers once wielded that sword in combat? How many foes shed their blood upon that bronzing steel? Like her, it too endured the fall of Cesarski, it too had been taken far from home. Orzel hoped it would never again need to taste the blood of an enemy again, but she wasn't counting on it. To her further surprise, gripping the hilt imbued her with a feeling that the blade itself was an extension of her body... Not in literal sense either, but as if the blade belonged solely to her. This was the sword her Mother grasped in her final moments, a sword that should've been passed on only after Sokol died an elder, not... Not how things had been. The inanimate piece of metal in her grasp connected her to Sokol, however briefly, and forced her loneliness to vanish for a few fleeting moments...

"Thank you, Mother..." The girl's voice was barely a whisper, and she carefully moved the sword back to the box, resting it upon the bed of silk remaining within. Much as she might've wanted to spend more time with the weapon, that simply wasn't an option at present... Even so, the brief contact was more than enough. "I cannot tell you how much it means to me, to have my family's sword returned..." Without hesitation, she reached out and hugged Luna, the woman readily returned the embrace. "What is in the other box?" Stepping back from her daughter, Luna looked at the container and lifted the lid.

"Kneel, and I shall show you..." Luna stated gently, Orzel looked at her in confusion but complied. From within the box, Luna drew a crown similar in appearance to the Obsidian Crown...While not the Obsidian Crown, it had certainly drawn inspiration from the genuine article. It was crafted from a dark-silvery metal, which was broken up by odd almost blackened swirls throughout, not unlike Damascus steel. Ornately emblazoned on its front, crafted in bronze and set upon an obsidian shield, outlined in silver, was the same dragon Orzel had seen on the box.

"This crown was cast from a wolfram-arcanium alloy, designed specifically to accept any enchantment you may conceive of... I would request you refrain from actually enchanting it until you are of considerably higher skill." Luna explained smoothly. "A public coronation will be held when you come of age, but for the moment this will suffice. Forgive me if I forgo much of the pageantry, we are running late, as I have said." The woman smiled, carefully orienting the crown. "By the powers vested in me by the Obsidian Throne, I, Princess Luna, do hereby confer upon you the ownership of this sword and crown, that they might serve as your badges of office." Orzel looked at the floor as the crown came to rest upon her head, a far better fit than she'd expected. It was heavier than she'd expected, likely the result of it's being comprised of an exceptionally dense material. Now was hardly the time to bring that up, however. "Arise, Princess Orzel..."

Orzel stood shakily too her feet, mostly on account of her shoes, though the 'ceremony' hadn't helped matters. Where before Luna previously loaned her the Obsidian Crown to wear, this crown... It was hers. It had no fancy name, not yet at least, but it was hers... The 'Wolfram-Arcanium Alloy Crown' didn't necessarily trip off the tongue. Name or no name, no one could take it away from her. The past half hour was a fairly condensed hurricane of emotions, from annoyance at the thought of going to the gala, to the sudden arrival of her unexpected familiar, and now the bestowal of a crown to call her very own. Orzel had to wonder what the crown's design would mean on a political level... Even if it was made from an advanced metallic alloy, weren't they trying to set her apart from Luna? It didn't matter for the moment. The night was still young, but Orzel doubted there was much that could top what already happened. Luna surveyed her daughter with a proud appraising eye, smiling fondly. Once again, just as it happened on the train, Orzel got the distinct impression that her Mother was seeing more than she let on.

"You wear it well." Luna complimented with a warm smile before gesturing towards the door. "Come now, we have kept our guests waiting long enough." Orzel nodded, then looked at the mouse standing patiently on its hind feet, head cocked sidewise in silent curiosity.

Luna was already walking towards the door, paying the rodent little mind, but Orzel couldn't ignore her familiar so easily. Even if she hadn't asked for such a companion, it didn't feel right to just leave the poor thing behind... For all she knew, it wouldn't have done any good, as it apparently had no trouble passing through the walls of Orzel's tower. With a silent jerking nod, she offered her arm and allowed the mouse to scurry up and perch upon her shoulder. Hopefully it wouldn't draw too much attention, though she doubted that...

"You may not realize this, but tonight is also the first Grand Galloping Gala I will attend..." The woman stated as she stood by the door. "So you will not be alone in your inexperience."

"I hope you understand if I do not share your enthusiasm." Responded Orzel, clasping her hands behind her back as the two of them passed through the old security door. Luna chuckled faintly, using her magic to close the metal slab behind them.

Now they strode through the stone hallway beneath the Castle rampart, and to Orzel its utilitarian architecture was a welcome change from the typical designs of the Castle. Flat white paint, clearly marked signs, the only artistic flair came in the form of posters espousing the benefits of re-enlisting or other such things...

The brief diversion didn't last long, however, as the two passed through another door leading out into the Castle gardens. The air was cool and rather uncomfortable, for Autumn's chilly embrace was quickly overtaking Equestria at large. There sprang the subtle scent of fallen leaves, accented by the charcoal smell of a wood fire burning... Somewhere. Flashes of a burning city filled Orzel's mind, conjured into being by that oh so simple of aromas. They were banished only moments later through shear force of will. Closing her eyes, the Princess called upon her memories of fonder times. She needed only to imagine the raucous squawking of gulls, and with them came a dozen fonder memories... Albeit, dulled now by the veil of time. As she'd realized in so many instances before when reflecting on life in Canterlot, the absence of the otherwise bothersome scavengers proved a constant aberration she could never quite ignore.

It was fast becoming the time of change... Another aspect of Autumn that depressed Orzel's overall mood, for it was the season of decay, when things died or otherwise became dormant before the sweeping snows of winter. The Gala might've been nice, had it been held in Spring, or even Winter proper, just... Not Autumn. Even in Cesarski, Orzel always preferred to remain alone when Autumn came around. Her parents never really understood why their daughter grew so glum at that time of year, and she couldn't really blame them. To Szafirians, Autumn was the season of the final harvest, when celebrations abounded, and people were expected to be jovial in anticipation of the Winter Solstice.

Doctor Scratch presented a number of theories as to just what was the cause behind Orzel's seasonal gloominess, but nothing concrete as of yet... Equestrian psychological science was light years ahead of its nearest Szafirian counterpart, but it was still widely considered a new field of study. Sometimes she had to wonder if Doctors weren't just making things up as they went along. That was another question better saved for her upcoming session. For a few moments the wandering of her mind broke her concentration, and she was confronted by a series of flashing memories... Sokol laying on the ground, with... Unspeakable things pouring from the wound in her abdomen... So much blood. No matter how hard Orzel tried to scrub, she could never seem to make the last vestiges leave her hands.

"Kurwa!" Orzel suddenly cried out in surprised frustration and pain as she recoiled from walking face first into a lamppost. Once again she'd become so enamored in her own thoughts that the rest of the world registered as little more than a blur, and once again it'd cost her.

Luna let out a sharp gasp of shock, both at the sudden profanity and the fact her daughter had just slammed into a pillar of wrought iron. Even the unnamed mouse seemed aghast, yelping ever so quietly from its perch. Looking about at her surroundings, Orzel found that they were approaching the Castle proper. The hedges were growing slightly unkempt, some trees were covered for the winter, and it seemed there were guests milling about among those few displays still bearing color.

"I am sorry, Mother... I was lost in thought again, I did not mean to say that..." Meekly apologized, feeling rather shocked at herself as well. Evidently she'd have to fight even harder to keep her emotions in check, not budging a single inch further...

"I suppose I can forgive your profanity, so long as it does not become habit." Luna disapprovingly replied, watching as Orzel quietly adjusted and straightened her crown, which sat slightly askew above the girl's headscarf. The woman gestured towards the Castle, specifically the ballroom that opened out onto a garden patio. "Let us not dally any longer, after you..." Orzel nodded quietly, taking the lead and making sure that this time she didn't let her thoughts run away with her. It was bound to be a long night, and while she was certain her feet would be aching by the end of it, it remained to be seen if her nose would fair any better...

Blueblood wanted as little to do with the Grand Galloping Gala as possible, a fact the man had known for as long as he could remember. He'd only ever attended because not doing so would've been detrimental to his political power. It was a little too stuffy for his liking, and boring, so very very boring... After all, it was attended every year by more or less the same people. They were nice enough people to talk to, at least on a surface level, but Blueblood knew just how thin that veneer of niceness truly was. He'd maintained that same veneer, and an equally despicable persona beneath it, in order to gain their trust and support, alienating not only his Aunts but indeed much of his family in the pursuit of beating the enemy at their own game...

Typically this Gala would've been more or less the same as all the others. He would've put on a tuxedo, gone out among the people, and made an utter ass of himself. This year was different, however, in that the great goal Blueblood had striven for so ardently since first entering the field of politics finally was finally coming to fruition. The Noble Party was thoroughly and utterly shattered, the equilibrium of power knocked decidedly out of order. He should've been over the moon... Except he wasn't. All that work, all those sacrifices and years of making himself out to be the most wretched cur ever to wear a crown, made useless simply by virtue of the Noble Party's own hubris. His goal behind toppling the Noble Party went well beyond a sense of moral imperative, it had been his personal mission in life to see them laid low, but ideally by his own hand. He doubted they even remembered the insult that had spurred his silent crusade...

There was nothing left to do now but regroup and ponder strategy on how to repair the image he'd gone out of his way to tarnish... First he'd need to just drink it all in. Currently he was doing so in a literal sense, sitting at a bar erected nearest the inner wall, his tie askew, a glass of cognac held firmly in his hand. The man couldn't help but chuckle, capitalizing on the arrogance of the Noble Party by provoking them to temporarily withdraw from the National Council proved a most clever trick... The sheer arrogance, to think that the government would cease to function because they didn't turn up to vote, was almost comically typical. Another chuckle passed Blueblood's lips, thoroughly devoid of any mirth, as he was struck by a sudden realization. He'd gone out of his way to cultivate his terrible image in the hopes of convincing the Noble Party to make a mistake, to erode and undermine their efforts over the course of a lifetime, when in actuality all he'd needed to do was sit back and wait for the fools to shoot themselves...

It wasn't even contingent on the arrival of Princess Orzel, as it was no secret that Celestia was seeking to expand the Royal Family. Sooner or later, Luna would've chosen another potential successor who would've arrived to a similar level of derision, then he would've suggested the Party refuse to partake in the Council while at the same time informing Celestia to keep up the pressure. Celestia would've known he wasn't as bad a person as he made himself out to be, and he could take solace in the knowledge that his vengeance had been enacted. The plan could've worked, it could've been him that the non-aligned Councilors were grateful too, instead of Celestia or Luna, or his diminutive recluse of a Cousin... All of his work, all of his schemes, unraveled by the elevation of a commoner girl...

"Faust above, I really do sound like them..." Blueblood mumbled to himself, taking a sip of his drink before turning to face the ongoing festivities. So far he was fairly impressed, many of the faces in the crowd surrounding the bar were new ones, and there seemed to be a genuine jovial atmosphere permeating the ballroom. The entire place was decorated unusually for the occasion, with fancy white tablecloths rather than the customary red ones. The checkered dance floor was dutifully polished and waxed, almost to excess, but that didn't stop any of the attendees from swaying in time with an up tempo waltz. The sudden culling of the event's typical guest list certainly made for an interesting crowd, comprised mostly of business owners, celebrities, and foreign dignitaries, though a fair number of those present also wore military dress uniforms. One of whom Blueblood recognized fairly well, as the man's big grin and brilliant red jacket certainly stood out among the Naval and Lunar Marine Blues, as well as Army Olive Greens.

Captain Shining Armor, resplendent in the uniform of the Canterlot Royal Guard, and looking particularly handsome while doing so. He'd only recently been promoted to the position, and though the Canterlot Royal Guard served more as a Ceremonial Unit, it was nonetheless a high honor. Delicately, Shining Armor carried a trio of plates, each loaded with food taken from the buffet table, deftly maneuvering through the dancing couples and chatting officers. Not once did the smile leave the strong features of his face, if anything it seemed to grow wider with every step closer to the table of one Princess Mi Amore Cadenza. A perfect counterpart Shining Armor, she was absolutely radiant, perhaps even rivaling the beauty of Princess Celestia herself. The muscled Guard Captain came to a stop beside the table, dutifully setting the plates before Cadenza and another young woman, then moving to take a seat beside the Princess.

The two were just some of the many new faces in attendance, indeed the other young woman joining their table was Celestia's pupil... Twilight something? Blueblood didn't really remember her full name, he didn't particularly care either at present. As for Cadenza, or Cadence, he couldn't recall which she preferred... Either way, she was thankfully drawing more and more attention away from him. The Prince couldn't have been more pleased not to be noticed, as he was not well liked among the crowd in attendance, nor was he particularly popular with the few Noble Party members that actually managed to gain an invitation. Canterlot, for all its size, was a considerably small pond when it came to politics. In that metaphorical context, Blueblood was seen as a very large, very obnoxious, bottom feeder.

The epilogue of Statesman's 'Rogue State' gradually barged into Blueblood's thoughts, when hundreds of years had passed and the 'Rogue Queen' was vindicated by history. Those that demonized her were now seen as the enemy, those that had aided her were praised as heroes of the New Kingdom... Bill 250 would be just one of the innumerable victories in Celestia's name, whether it was a footnote or an entire chapter of history remained to be seen. History was written by the victor, so would it really matter in the end? The more things changed, the more they'd stay the same. It was the immutable law of the world, be it politics, business, or warfare. Defeat one enemy and another steps right up to take its place... Sometimes better, sometimes worse.

What would replace the Noble Party as Equestria's greatest internal 'enemy' was still in the air, but nature abhorred a vacuum. Possibly the Black Crown Party, though they were growing ever more popular simply because they weren't the 'Nobles'... Mutual hatred was a potent motivator for cooperation, but it could only go so far. Would the pendulum swing so far backwards that the Council would start taking orders from the Thestrals? In the days prior to the Nightmare War, a similar shift in power had taken place with the assassination of the Tribal Council... Even to this day, no one really knew who was responsible, though there was no shortage of theories. While no one was actually killed in a contemporary sense, the effects of 250 would undoubtedly be the same. The Black Crown Party was the newest player in the great game, and with everything in so much disarray, it was likely they'd consolidate great swathes of power for themselves... Yes, perhaps they were the new enemy, or maybe the Nobles weren't totally defeated after all.

"Your highness..." A gruff voice spoke up from beside Blueblood, prompting the Prince to turn on his stool. The source was a stout portly pegasus man with stubby brown wings, neatly groomed, dressed in a suit and tie. Olympus Solare, owner and founder of Solare Automotive Industries, one of the most detestable people Blueblood ever had the misfortune of knowing. The company installed substandard braking pads in several thousand vehicles, at Solare's personal direction. This cost cutting measure and others like it resulted in at least five hundred accidents, many of which were fatal. It was only stopped because the Equestrian Government stepped in, but of course the Council Hearing resulted in little more than a slap on the wrist, as the Noble Party always watched out for its own. "I trust recent events won't impact our arrangement?"

"This is an entirely different ballgame now, Olly." Blueblood responded with a smirk, he knew just how much Olympus hated the nickname. The arrangement to which Olympus referred to was a bid to get him onto the National Council, as part of the Party ticket of course. In return for Blueblood's assistance, the newly minted Councilman Solare would back Blueblood in passing bills that were otherwise unpopular. Now there was no need for Olympus' presence on the Council, and, more importantly, no seat to cram his pudgy form into. "I'm afraid I have no further need of you... I have what I wanted."

"You have what you wanted?" Olympus' voice rose an entire octave, his surprised rage all the more evident by a sudden flush of purple to the man's face. There was that temper of his, yet another aspect of the Canterlot elite that Blueblood had come to despise. They'd been living in their ivory towers, in some cases literally, for far too long... Olympus was a prime example, Blueblood had seen him ruin people's lives for the smallest of slights, and usually there was nothing the targeted person could do to stop him. "You want Princess Luna to put that scaly gutter rat on the Obsidian Throne? Do you have any idea what kind of damage that could cause!?" He spat the word 'Princess' as if the very word revolted him. "I don't see what scheme you're playing at here, so start explaining or I'll-"

"You'll what?" Blueblood's smile turned quickly to a snarl, his grip tightening on his glass. "I have cultivated a reputation for stabbing people in the back when it suits me, Olly... Do you think anyone will be surprised if you tell them I disregarded our deal?" Olympus fumed furiously in silence, glaring at the Prince. Somehow, despite the reminder that Blueblood had built himself up to be a 'bad guy', he actually felt rather nice. Then came the realization that with the end of the Noble Party's political dominance also came an end to the need to wear his mask, at least for a time. Now he could take a sort of vindicated joy in the suffering of those whom he'd schemed against for so long... Even if it hadn't been his own doing. "The truth, Olly, is that I hate your guts... You and everyone like you."

"So you would have our country be led by a Drake to satisfy your own hatred?" Olympus snarled, unsteadily rising to his feet. "Without the Noble Party, who will look out for Equestria's interests in the future? Princess Celestia and Luna will not hold the throne forever, 'Prince'. Who will replace them? Cadenza? That mongrel commoner brat? She can barely speak Equestrian, she's hardly smart enough to rule!" Blueblood felt a sudden flood of anger that nearly overtook him, which was only brought to heel by a fairly large sip from his glass. "It should be you." Olympus declared. "You are playing a dangerous game, one that you will only win if you join us... Challenge her right to the Obsidian Throne, it will mean more coming from you." The man's voice grew colder. "The time for Princesses is coming to an end, surely you see that... Do not stand in the way of progress."

Blueblood couldn't stifle a laugh at that point, but it was bitter and filled with malice. 'Progress'... The meaning long ago corrupted into the laziest excuse he'd ever heard, just a cover for bad people to do bad things for 'good' reasons. It was one thing to scheme and plot for his own ends, but there was one line that Blueblood had sworn upon his soul never to cross, and that was to scheme against his own kin. However distantly they may have been related, Luna and Celestia were still his family by blood, and he counted Princess Orzel among that family as well. Many people tended to forget just how difficult a job the Princesses held, and for a time perhaps he had been among those people. Every problem in the world landed squarely on his Aunts' to resolve, from treaty negotiations to piracy crises. Unlike Blueblood, Celestia and Luna lived countless lifetimes, each minute spent more or less doing that under appreciated toil of good governance. Princess Orzel, as a Drake, would likewise outlive him and everyone else in that room...

How many sleepless nights would she endure, how many future crises would she face that Blueblood would never live to see? Truth be told, despite his earlier thoughts, Blueblood hadn't spoken with Princess Orzel enough to know her personally. Over the course of several nightly Royal Family dinners to which he'd been invited, the Prince observed his new cousin to be quiet, introspective, and a tad impulsive... From the discussions he'd overheard on the matter of ESS Sokol, he also gathered that Orzel held a very 'pro-military' and 'pro-Equestria' stance. While at the moment Blueblood wouldn't be the first in line to swear fealty to her, due to her youth and inexperience, he got the sense that Orzel would one day bear her mantle with integrity and determination enough to last a thousand life times, just as Luna and Celestia had done. That was more than could be said for Olympus or some of the other people in the room.

"The Princesses will look out for Equestria's future, as they always have, and as they always will..." Blueblood stated with a bit more resolve than he'd expected, his lips curling down into a frown. The idea of turning on his family sickened him, and as it stood, he could afford to allow his temper to flare for a moment or two. "If you are so keen on challenging the rule of the Crown, perhaps you should still consider a run for public office?" Blueblood leaned forward, grasping Olympus by his lapels and staring malevolently into the magnate's soul.

"Assuming you run on a platform of deriding myself and my family you had best hope you win resoundingly, because if you don't?" Blueblood shook his head, his voice as cold as ice. "There won't be a country on this planet where you'll be free to do business. By the time I'm through with your company, people will think that SAI is some sort of a social disease, and you won't be worth a plug nickle." The Princes flashed a predatory grin, chuckling faintly. "Remember, Olly... This is me we're talking about. If there's one thing I stick to, it's threats." The man smoothed Solare's lapels, then straightened his tie. "So try to cheer up, mate. Tonight's supposed to be a happy occasion!" With a playful pat on the man's cheek, Blueblood left the sputtering Olympus in his wake, standing and making his way towards the buffet table.

He conjured a brief flare of magic to clear his head, while the spell was intended to be used in the event of poisoning, it served just as well to help clear up his state of modest intoxication. Stopping beside the buffet table, he gathered a plate for himself and gradually began to examine the various offered meals. Most were the standard 'Fancy Party' fare, chicken, steak, a few pasta dishes. Some were obviously the doing of Princess Celestia, most notably the large cake at the end of the desert table. There was also an assortment of Thestral cuisine, obviously Luna's favorites, and lastly a few fish dishes that had a distinct draconic flare to them. They were in and of themselves also incredibly different from any other draconic meals he'd had before... According to the caterer, one of the few people that Blueblood actually considered a friend, those particular recipes were lifted from some ancient 'Kwarczkie' text. It was obvious whom Celestia ordered those dishes for.

Ultimately Blueblood came to the conclusion that he wasn't hungry yet, so he set the plate back with an eye towards taking a stroll through the Castle gardens. The night was still young, Princess Luna had yet to arrive, and he was hoping to at least make some progress in restoring his tarnished honor. On his way to the doors he gradually heard the gentle waltz from the orchestra subside, though the chatting party goers didn't seem to notice at first. That short lived calm was abruptly shattered by a resounding salute of heralding trumpets, echoing triumphantly from the passage to the Castle gardens. All eyes turned to face the source of the noise, and now that he was at the front of a small group of people he could see it clearly.

Princess Luna and Princess Orzel had just entered the room, flanked on either side by men in Lunar Marine dress uniforms, as well as a small cadre of heralds standing off near the bandstand. The bodyguards were behemoths of a sort Blueblood wouldn't have thought possible, eclipsing even the amazonian Princess Luna in height. With snarling stoney faces that could've been lifted from a pair of gargoyles, the strange soldiers stood resolutely behind the two Princesses, looking ahead with eyes that burned as hotly as the dawn. Blueblood's sight was then drawn to the crown resting atop his younger cousin's head, he couldn't help pondering wordlessly what the Black Crown Party would do upon seeing that. They were Pro-Luna, but were they Pro-Orzel as well? There were too many variables, and this was no time to contemplate them all.

"Presenting Her Royal Majesty, Princess Luna and Her Royal Highness, Crown-Princess Orzel!" Boomed the voice of one of the heralds, nodding his head towards the band. The group started playing at first what sounded like 'Faust Save the Queen', and Blueblood was briefly confused by the choice of song. Equestria officially never actually had a Queen, the song having been written to try and pressure Celestia into taking the title, so why would it be played for Luna's entry? Quiet murmurs went up through the crowd as the Sailors and Lunar Marines in attendance snapped a sharp salute. They were followed, almost reluctantly, by the representatives of Equestria's Army.

The rest of the crowd broke out into cheering ovation, similar to that which had reigned when Celestia first opened the night's ceremonies. Blueblood's eyes roved over the cheering faces, many of the loudest voices surrounded him. Their clothing varied from dresses, suits, tuxedos, and military uniforms, but all bore a single common denominator, a small lapel pin. Unsurprisingly, the pin took the shape of a crown, made from some form of black glass or enameled metal. He hadn't noticed them until that point, primarily because he'd been wallowing in his own self pity. To Blueblood's shock, it was more than just thestrals wearing the pins, but Pegasi, Earth-Walkers, and Spell-Casters alike. It gave him pause, perhaps the Noble Party's estimates of Black Crown appeal were drastically understated...

The ovation gradually faded as Princess Luna made her way through the crowd, occasionally stopping to speak with someone or shake a hand. Orzel likewise was moving along, occasionally speaking up, but only when addressed directly. Blueblood couldn't hear what they were saying over the din of excitement, even as the party began to return to normal, their voices were drowned out by resuming music and chatter. The Prince concluded that approaching them would hurt their already tenuous image, so he opted to leave his Aunt and Cousin alone for the time being... Tucking his hands into his pockets, the suave nobleman made his way out into the castle garden. If he was lucky enough, maybe he'd be able to see the Royal Rose Garden before the bushes lost the last of their pedals...

Cadence sat in silent fascination, absorbing the party atmosphere, watching with occasional interest as dignitaries of varying degrees of note came into view. The gown she'd chosen was flowing and simple, with a color not dissimilar to that of a tangerine. Her hair was done a bit more lavishly, the typical blonde strands being accentuated by pink highlights. With her locks coiffed and feathered just so, Cadence was certain there would be no one present that could ignore her radiant appearance. She only cared to draw the eye of one man, however. The dashingly handsome Captain of the Canterlot Royal Guard. Shining Armor, Twilight Sparkle's brother, a powerfully built man with the overall attitude of a marshmallow.

It had been with great reluctance that Cadence accepted the invitation to the Grand Galloping Gala. She'd never done so before, but this year was different. As with so many of the faces she saw milling about the room now, she was there only because the typical crowd of politicians found itself essentially barred from the ages old celebration. That alone made going a far more tempting prospect, but what finally convinced her to attend this year was the news that her dear friend Twilight Sparkle would also be present, as would the aforementioned Captain Shining Armor. Theirs was a romance fraught with difficulty and peril, mostly brought on because the two of them currently lived so very far away from one another.

It all started when Twilight was just starting to grow out of the need for a babysitter, and continued as both Cadence and Shining Armor's lives developed of their own accord. Cadence had accepted the ascension to the role of Princess, and Shining Armor found himself accepted to the Royal Military Academy. From there, Cadence was temporarily detached to the West Coast, working with the mayors of Applewood and Las Pegasus to solve a housing crisis. Their romance would've ended then, if not for the determination of both parties involved, and no matter the distance Cadence always felt the presence of her dearly loved knight. This evening would mark the first time they'd see of one another in over a year... Double that time for Twilight Sparkle. The young woman in question sat currently across from Cadence, grinning broadly enough that her smile could serve as a runway at Neighless Army Air Corps Base.

"You know your face will stick like that?" Cadence's voice held a faux-chiding tone as she adjusted the placement of the crown atop her head. Twilight simply smiled wider, apparently undeterred. She was a joy to have cared for all those years ago, even being wound considerably tighter than her brother. Nonetheless, Twilight was blossoming into a fine young woman, and it was Cadence's fondest hope that someday the unshakable scholar would wear a crown of her own... She already did, technically, as the bearer of the Element of Magic. For now, however, she could see a mix of wonder and curiosity present in those young staring eyes. "I think you'll explode if you keep your questions to yourself any longer, so go ahead and ask."

"How are things in Las Pegasus? Have you made any progress with the construction spells I developed? Do you need any more, I can make more, I just need more time, you know?" Twilight blurted excitedly all at once, Cadence had to suppress a chuckle as the questions poured forth. "Do you know when you might be finished? When you'll come back? I've missed you, I think Princess Celestia misses you to, and Shining... For some reason... Isn't that strange? Not that you aren't worth missing!" The girl hadn't taken a single breath in the entire time she was speaking, so Cadence gently raised a hand of caution.

"Let's take it one at a time, okay?" Cadence evenly offered, to which Twilight paused and nodded. She was fidgeting in her seat still, and Cadence suspected a jackhammer would've bounced up and down less. After a few more moments the girl took a breath and started to relax. Seeing that her companion wasn't about to keel over, thankfully, Cadence continued. "Las Pegasus is fine, we're wrapping up construction on the latest development. Your spells were remarkably helpful, if a tad complicated..." Twilight visibly deflated at the last part. "A few tweaks had them running perfectly, you should be pleased." Her friend perked almost entirely back to her previous self, albeit a bit sheepishly. Likely she realized just how excited she appeared, as Twilight took on a more reserved posture. "Don't worry, just a few more weeks and I should be set to come back. For good, this time. We'll have a lot of catching up to do."

"Definitely." Twilight's smile returned, once again it seemed the studious young woman was irrepressible. Cadence couldn't help still seeing her as a girl, but as with so many things, times had changed. Shining Armor appeared through the crowd, smiling that big goofy grin of his as he carried several plates of steaming food from the buffet. He was quick about setting them down in front of everyone, adjusting his uniform afterwards. "Hey, did you hear Cadence is going to be back in a few weeks?" Blurted Twilight.

"Really?" Shining asked with an audible hint of hopefulness, just subtle enough that Twilight didn't notice. Cadence gave the man a friendly nod as he took a seat beside her, picking up his fork and taking a bite from his plate. From the looks of things he'd gone for his usual selection at such functions, steak and potatoes. He had placed before Twilight a burger with fries, which Cadence knew to be a special order on the request of Princess Celestia. Cadence, meanwhile, was pleased to see Shining hadn't forgotten her own preferences. Just a light salad, nothing too fancy... Shining's voice pulled the Princess back into the moment, cheerful and optimistic as always. "That's great news! There's been a lot of changes lately, but this is one of the good ones."

"Well, I'm glad you think so." Cadence smiled knowingly, looking about the room at the various party guests. A pair of Lunar Marine Officers walked past, apparently sipping champagne. Shining's comment about change took on a new light when she spotted the pins on their lapels, and in a moment her eyes shifted back to Twilight. "Speaking of change, Luna adopted a daughter? I mean, I know what the newspapers are saying, but I haven't had time to really meet her in person." Twilight nodded after taking a bite from her burger. Wiping her lips with a provided napkin, she swallowed the morsel before speaking.

"Princess Orzel, yes. I met her when she first arrived, but I'm afraid I haven't had a chance to see her since." Twilight admitted, Cadence detected a sudden thoughtfulness to the woman. "When I did meet her it was right after she arrived, and she wasn't in the best of places mentally speaking. Celestia says she's doing better, and I hope that's true..." Twilight trailed off as the music was suddenly replaced by the heralding thrum of trumpets.

Shining Armor abruptly stood to attention, as did several other officers seated nearby. Cadence and Twilight rose as well as the sound of 'Thestralmarsch' wafted through the ballroom. To someone without an extensive ear for music, it might've been confused for 'Faust Save the Queen' at first, but Cadence was nothing if not musically inclined. Looking towards the garden entrance, Cadence easily spotted her Aunt Luna. The enigmatic Princess Orzel was no where to be seen, despite her arrival being announced with that of Luna's.

Gradually the crowd began to disperse, and with that the trio returned to their seats. Cadence's eyes remained set on Luna, wondering if perhaps her daughter had refused to come. After a few more moments, however, she came to the realization that Princess Orzel was indeed present. The diminutive form was previously hidden by the standing crowd, and now making her way along a row of dignitaries. She had that same stony face expected of Aunt Luna, but Cadence was fairly good at reading body language... Mentally speaking, her new cousin was in a very defensive and uncomfortable posture. Turning back to Shining and Twilight, Cadence silently gestured at the distant form with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, that's her." Shining Armor confirmed as he cut into his steak, his eyes more focused on his plate than the distant Princess. Cadence wasn't able to discern what the man was thinking, a rare occurrence, but not unheard of. He didn't seem overly enthused by their current conversation, though Cadence supposed that might've been more on account of Princess Luna. Cadence inwardly sighed, there were many still wary in the wake of Nightmare Moon's return... She personally hadn't met this 'Princess Orzel' yet, but Cadence doubted she could be lumped in with the likes of Nightmare Moon. "I haven't really met her." Shining conceded. "I know she borrows things without asking, that's about it. She spends most of her time with Princess Luna, or by herself. Now, with Bill Two-Fifty, it makes me wonder just what she's being taught." He further added with restrained distaste, more or less confirming Cadence's worries.

"After reading some of the stuff they've said about her, I'm sure you'd want to stay out of the public eye if you were her." The Princess countered, stabbing into her salad with a fork. Shining raised an eyebrow at the apparent disagreement, though he didn't seem angry. "Don't forget, Princess Luna isn't the same person as Nightmare Moon. I'll admit, from our brief interactions she can be a tad intense, but you can't deny there's more to her than that." Shining Armor appeared to consider her words, as if somehow trying to concoct a retort. "Also remember, putting forward Bill Two-Fifty was Celestia's idea, not Luna's."

"Be that as it may, the timing of this 'Black Crown' Party forming is a bit suspicious." Shining finally responded, taking another bite of his dinner. "Equestria's been doing fine for the past thousand years, then all of a sudden some alien girl just shows up, gets made Heir to the Obsidian Throne, and now these people coincidentally decide they want a change that'd give the Obsidian Throne more power?"

Once again Cadence could understand the man's concerns, she herself was uneasy with how quickly the new Party was taking shape. The fact that they made use of a lot of Thestral imagery, imagery associated with the Nightmare War, didn't particularly help. The positions of the Black Crown were likewise unsettling, generally advocating for what they called a 'Firm Hand' approach to foreign policy. Their primary beliefs seemed to lie with the individual, calling for an end to what they deemed 'governmental overgrowth' and 'obstructive bureaucracy'. In that sense, Cadence supposed she agreed, though not so much with the Firm Hand aspect. Yet before she could form her own rebuttal, it seemed Twilight was already set on her own.

"Not really..." Twilight started, setting her burger back on its plate. "Statistically speaking, I'm surprised another party hadn't formed sooner. The Noble Party is popular in Canterlot and other big cities, but certainly not universally." She shrugged and leaned back in her seat, looking thoughtfully at another pair of people bearing the ubiquitous Black Crown lapel pins. "If it wasn't the Black Crowns, it could just as well have been some other group capitalizing on the opportunity." The young woman picked up one of her fries and dipped it in a small puddle of ketchup at the edge of her plate.

"As for why they picked now? I suspect it's because there weren't any other options before. Luna's only been back a short time, and now she's the only Princess that has a chosen successor." The woman explained evenly. "The balance of power has, in some people's minds, shifted to a point favoring the Obsidian Throne. Bear in mind, I don't necessarily agree with that position, but given Celestia's uninterrupted reign of over a thousand years...?" Twilight trailed off. "I don't think their desire for change is necessarily an extreme position."

"I suppose..." Shining conceded, looking thoughtfully at his potatoes, as if thinking hard enough would somehow transform them into something else. Cadence had a good read on what was likely going through his head in that instant. Twilight was one of the most Pro-Celestia people Shining knew, so if she was saying the Black Crowns weren't a big issue, who was Shining to disagree? Cadence could still detect a faint lingering sense of uncertainty, but she wasn't expecting a miracle. Sensing the two siblings were going to spring into a tangent, the Princess tentatively tuned them out, pondering her own position...

Princess Luna's resurgent popularity wasn't a total surprise, Cadence had foreseen it happening sooner rather than later. That it came with the addition of Luna's daughter hadn't been part of the equation, but Cadence suspected the girl's mistreatment at the hands of the Noble Party and the press was what acted as the catalyst. She'd seen a great deal of disdain for the Nobles among rural farmers while dealing with the Las Pegasus housing crisis, a disdain the Nobles more than reciprocated... She was sure many people still felt hesitant about Princess Luna's reformation, but their dislike for the Noble Party outweighed that fear...

Watching the young Princess Orzel now speaking with Twilight's young ward Spike, Cadence got a sense from Orzel that there was quite a lot on the girl's mind. She didn't know her well enough to make any distinct conclusions, especially considering the girl displayed all the emotional range of a block of wood. In that respect, Luna and Celestia were excellent teachers. They were additionally good teachers when it came to diplomacy and decorum, as well as the rules for ruling and all the details of government... Still, Cadence had a feeling the finer points of actually living life, things like 'fun' and 'friendship' and 'risk', were falling on deaf ears.

The Princessly stoicism was already something the girl was evidently in the process of mastering, undoubtedly at a cost of her social life... Orzel probably needed a friend, a friend closer to her own age, lest she lose touch with a good portion of Equestria's citizenry. With Twilight and Spike both off in Ponyville, and Orzel unwilling to leave the Castle at present, Cadence considered herself the best candidate. She was in her late twenties, hardly a teenager, but far closer in approximation to Orzel than either Luna or Celestia. It would need to wait until she returned from Applewood and Las Pegasus at the very least, barring any sudden changes in her travel plans.

Watching her cousin studiously, it was obvious to Cadence that the girl was hiding a great deal from the world. Cadence wasn't entirely sure what was being hidden as of yet, but as Princess of Love she'd always been rather decent at sensing the hidden emotions of those around her, even those emotions hidden from the very people feeling them. Cadence resolved to herself that sooner or later she'd find out what lurked beneath the still water expression Orzel displayed. For now, she would much rather spend the rest of her night speaking with those she cared about, so that was precisely what she did...

Orzel briefly glanced at the floor, half expecting to spot her recently arrived familiar, but just as abruptly as it appeared so too had the mouse vanished. The creature disappeared not long before Luna and Orzel entered the Castle, though Luna assured the girl it would turn up again when it wanted to. Although they appeared in animal form, a familiar was actually a sort of 'spirit'... Orzel didn't really care for that term, primarily because it was imprecise, though the fact that it was a reminder of her ongoing crisis of faith certainly didn't help matters.

Regardless of what they actually were, familiars were generally smarter and possessed a higher level of 'consciousness' than the animal they portrayed themselves as. Orzel suspected, therefore, that the mouse, whom she'd dubbed 'Midnight' on account of its' almost pitch black coloration, disappeared of its own accord simply to avoid being seen by the various party goers. While it posed no threat to humans, it was likely most people weren't expecting to see a mouse freely roaming about the Grand Galloping Gala.

Despite the abrupt entry into her life, Orzel found herself becoming more fond of the enigmatic creature, even if she'd only actually seen it for less than half an hour. Undoubtedly that was another difference between a 'pet' and a 'familiar', their ability to bond with their masters even when not in sight. There was another word the Princess wasn't overly fond of, 'Master', as it implied that the relationship between mage and familiar was one of dominance and subservience. Familiars existed to help their mage with their studies in the arcane, anything else they did beyond that was their own business. A more apt description would be 'assistant' or, to some lesser extent, 'colleague'.

For the moment, however, there were larger concerns than the proper terminology to use when discussing familiars. The heralds had just announced their arrival, and as per usual both Grim and Fable materialized seemingly from out of the aether behind them. This time the two silent sentinels wore their dress uniforms, and Orzel had to admit they fit the party's aesthetic far better than the typical black suits. From the looks of the blue fabric, their frock coats were some sort of wool, with gold epaulets that dangled from their shoulders and shiny brass buttons. The cuffs and collar were the color of ripened cranberries, marked with golden braids to denote each man's rank in the Lunar Marines. This was her first time witnessing the uniform, and she was surprised to see that it included a golden sash, styled much like her own... A purely unintentional coincidence.

She briefly caught sight of the men removing their trademarked sunglasses, which the towering figures quietly tucked into their pockets. It must've been unbearably hot for them, and the rest of the Lunar Marines present, though likely more so for Grim and Fable given the prodigious amount of fabric needed to make uniforms of such size. Unlike the other members of the Lunar Corps, the two men additionally wore a pair of black helmets with a golden point at its crest and a white crescent at its front... Pickelhaubes, that was their name, at least if Orzel correctly recalled the history of the Thestral Imperium. Sweat beaded on the two men's foreheads, their now exposed slitted Thestral eyes glaring out across the sea of faces in search of any possible threat while the two Princesses advanced through the crowd. Meanwhile, a small corridor through the crowd opened to allow the pair passage through the eager throngs.

Already people were returning to their previous revelry, yet there were still those that came to approach the Princesses. Generally they wore formal clothing, gowns and tuxedos mostly, though there were some people that were adorned in drastically different fashion. Some wore uniforms unlike the familiar dress of the Equestrian military, which she assumed to mean these were likely foreign dignitaries of some kind. Some had wings like those of Luna and Celestia, others were more stoic in appearance. One group of men was absolutely massive, towering as tall as Grim and Fable, with deeply tanned skin. The head of this congregation wore an odd sort of headdress, and stood with an expression Orzel could best describe as 'wizened patience'.

Moving down the line of dignitaries, Luna shook the hands of numerous Equestrian minsters and officers. One man, an Admiral by the look of his navy blue uniform and gold piping, seemed particularly talkative. In addition to numerous medals and ribbons pinned to his chest, Orzel caught sight of a single black insignia pinned to his lapel. It was difficult to make out at first, at least until Orzel readjusted her spectacles. A pin shaped like a crown awaited her wandering eye, it was then that she realized a good number of those lining up to meet Princess Luna had them. They seemed just as pleased to see Orzel, a strange sensation given how she'd assumed she would be received. Orzel understood from personal experience that the rest of Equestria didn't give the tabloids much credence, but Canterlot was still... Well... Canterlot. The greetings went on and on until finally Luna and Orzel arrived at the first dignitary, the rest of the crowd gradually melting back into the party after having had their chance to meet the Royals.

"Ambassador Strong Back..." Luna said, nodding her head towards the man. He was brawny, albeit slightly on the short side, though still taller than Orzel. To her surprise, the man had a pair of short horns growing from the sides of his head. At first she'd assumed they were some sort of ornamental head ware, but it was clear now that they were, in fact, a part of this 'Ambassador Strong Back'. The girl did her best not to stare, but somewhere deep in the recesses of her mind she was struck by a sensation of primal fear... The Vindictan scrolls told of creatures with horns such as that, horrible creatures of the underworld, responsible for the destruction of miners that delved too deeply or those foolish enough to explore caves alone. Surely, this couldn't be one of the same creatures... Surely. "I trust your new embassy is coming along smoothly?" Luna continued, oblivious to her daughter's silent concern.

"It is indeed, your highness. Thank you for asking." The Ambassador responded cordially, in a refined voice belied by his outward combative appearance. He was likely in his mid-fifties, judging by the graying brown hair on his head and in the thick goatee on his chin. "Once again, the Minotaur Republic thanks you greatly for accepting our request. Moving towards a more inclusive society has proved challenging, I am glad we have Equestria to call upon in times of uncertainty." Luna smiled faintly while Orzel, as usual, remained silent. So this was a Minotaur...? She'd expected the head of a bull, that was how they'd been described in Szafiria, at least he didn't appear to be one of the dreaded 'under dwellers'. "I am pleased as well to see you, Princess Orzel. The topic of your ascension has been discussed at great length within my nation's administration."

"Thank you, Ambassador. I hope those discussions have been primarily positive." Orzel responded in Equestrian, taking on the cordial tone of Luna. Her voice still carried the thick Szafirian accent, something she could see caused the Ambassador a brief moment of confusion as he deciphered her sentence word by word. It took only a moment or two, and while it may not have frustrated Strong Back, it nonetheless stung Orzel's pride. For all the progress she thought she'd made, she still spoke with the voice of an outsider. "I look forward to learning more about your nation and its history, there is much about the world I have yet to explore in depth."

"Ours is a proud and honorable past, best told through story and song." Strong Back explained wistfully, smiling while tucking a hand into the pocket of his brown tunic-like shirt. "I hope you will find it as entertaining as you do informative." Orzel nodded, returning the smile with a simple bow of her head.

With that the Ambassador excused himself, and together both Luna and Orzel moved to the next delegation. Most had similar comments to make of Princess Luna, greeting her with the respect due her title and character. Some were foreign diplomats from far off lands, others came from territories that were a part of Equestria, yet functioned as more or less autonomous regions. The man in the odd headdress for instance, Chief Thunderhooves, was the ruler of a tribe of natives near the Equestrian frontier town of Appleloosa. A recent territorial dispute had placed the tribe at odds with the town, which resulted in a small skirmish between the two. Thankfully, no one was seriously injured or killed, save a few unfortunate pastries. The dispute was ended peacefully with the aid of Twilight Sparkle and her companions.

The incident and its ultimate outcome had forced Orzel rethink a great many things about diplomacy both locally and abroad, and she'd come to the conclusion that her original solution probably wouldn't have worked. Where Twilight Sparkle apparently sought to reach some common ground, Orzel's first instinct would've been to deploy the Army and force both sides to the table. In hindsight that would've just added more fuel to the fire, to say nothing of the negative press it'd generate. It was a policy typically enacted by the Emperor, whenever one of Szafiria's holdings got out of hand.

Her thoughts moderated as she and Mother made their way along the line, until finally they arrived at the last group awaiting Luna's presence. The men of the group stood with remarkable rigidity, each eying both Princesses with a hawkish gaze. Two of them, obviously soldiers, were dressed in dark greenish-gray tunics and jodhpurs. Both men wore shiny black knee boots, their chests decorated with ribbons and medals galore. They were far more vibrant and colorful than those on the breasts of Lunar Marines, and oddly matched the feathery wings protruding from their backs. Shining sabre scabbards sat ready on black leather waist belts, glittering in the light of the chandeliers overhead. One of them, obviously the superior, wore a golden monocle in his right eye.

Orzel suddenly felt her heart pounding once more with primal fear, madly trying to burst out of her chest, whilst a high pitched ring flooded her ears. For those few moments, just an instant, she was overcome by a sensation of purest terror. In that fleeting second she was certain two agents of the MIS had finally come for her, that the entire ordeal she'd suffered through was some sort of twisted means of driving her mad... Despite the calm she projected, the girl nonetheless trembled, rooted to that spot until such time as she caught sight of the other delegates.

Standing at the head of the two frightening officers, a pair of similarly hawkish people waited with a much friendlier appearance. One was an older gentleman, like the officers he stood tall and stern, dressed in a variation of a tuxedo that somehow seemed more... Restrained than one of Equestrian make. A red ribbon around the collar terminated above his sternum with a metal pendant of sorts, likely steel, depicting a talon clutching a scroll. Beside him, dressed in a mustard colored gown, was a woman around his age and height, though she seemed far more relaxed. The man was brooding, with angular features and a powerfully cut jaw. The woman, by contrast, had a rounder, almost cherubic face, and lips that curled up into an amiable smile. Each had impressive wings, colored mostly in earth tones. All, as Orzel had come to expect, towered over her diminutive stature...

They had to be the Griffon delegation, both by appearance and process of elimination. The uniforms of their accompanying guards, for example, were similar to those MIS and the Szafirian Empire in general for good reason. The land known as the modern day Griffon Empire was at one time under joint Thestral-Draconic rule, only becoming an independent state at the conclusion of the Nightmare War and a subsequent 'Separatist War'. It made sense, at least by Orzel's estimation, that they would retain some semblance of what were known in Equestria as 'Draconic aesthetics', though obviously with their own flare. As avians they reveled in bright colors, hence the wide array present throughout their collective attire.

Realizing that Luna was speaking to the group of dignitaries, Orzel set aside her thoughts on the finer points of history and placed herself back into the moment. Her instant of fear was all but completely gone now, and she suspected it would soon be little more than a faded memory, if that.

"Ambassador and Lady Flaumfeder, I hope you have been enjoying the evening. Please forgive the wait, there was a matter of protocol that needed tending to." Luna explained evenly, clasping her hands together at her waist while the Ambassador snapped his feet together and nodded, the brooding look giving way to a smile.

Orzel's attention was drawn more to the two soldiers guarding the ambassadorial couple, both of whom were staring at her with strange intensity. While the Ambassador seemed politely friendly, the Princess was getting the distinct impression that she wasn't exactly wanted there. Why were his guards staring at her so intently, if not attempting to intimidate her? Given their uniforms, it wasn't so much an 'attempt' as she might've preferred to admit. Still maintaining an outward appearance of stoicism, Orzel was internally preparing for whatever might happen next. She didn't fear a physical attack, Grim and Fable could easily protect her, no... Her fears arose more from what might be brought up in 'casual' conversation. Details about ESS Sokol perhaps? Maybe they'd idly broach the topic of the Castle's defenses?

"Of course, your highness. We were not put out in the slightest, your sister is a most gracious host." Ambassador Flaumfeder responded in slightly accented Equestrian, his posture relaxing as he gestured to the two Griffon officers. "May I introduce Major Klippenschaber and Oberleutnant Braun of the esteemed Griffon Armed Forces." Both men snapped their heels together and gave disquietingly sharp salutes before returning to their previous silent stance. "You know my wife Harrier." At least Orzel knew what to call them now...

"Very good to see you all, as always. Please, allow me to introduce my daughter, Orzel..." Luna responded, looking briefly over at her daughter with a somewhat expectant expression. It was likely she picked up on the young Princess's internal defensive posture, if not the cause, giving a warm smile as if to reassure her that everything was going to be okay. Orzel wasn't quite sure what method her Mother used to divine such things, perhaps the girl just wasn't as good at hiding her inner feelings as she thought she was. Regardless of reassurance, Orzel still eyed the guards with suspicion and lingering dread.

"Ja, we have heard much about her." Harrier responded, the smile not once leaving her lips. Orzel had heard that line nearly a dozen times in the past half hour, but no matter how many times it came up she still couldn't help feeling some level of unease. "I was particularly fond of your first address." She added, looking at the girl directly. "A lot of talk of swords and shields, not words I am accustomed to hearing from Equestria."

These weren't just average citizens, they weren't even National Councilors, they were high ranking government officials from entirely different countries. She knew with fair certainty that the Equestrian government kept dossiers on all of them, and the idea that they held a similar file relating to her was... Unsettling. They could never hope to compare to the insidious auspices of the MIS, which was rumored to have as many as one agent for every one-hundred citizens, not including informants and unofficial operatives... The girl inwardly shook her head, she was safe here, the MIS couldn't hurt her... She was in control, she was safe.

"Thank you, Lady Flaumfeder." Orzel nodded gratefully, forcing herself to maintain her poise, even as she contemplated just what angle the Ambassador would pursue. "As many are fond of pointing out, I am not a typical Equestrian. My thoughts on the importance of national defense are likewise atypical." The girl stated simply. "I am unfortunately at a disadvantage, I have heard few addresses but those of my Aunt and Mother, are there any from the Griffon Empire you would recommend?" Harrier smiled and briefly glanced at her husband, the Ambassador in turn stood confidently.

"I would recommend the speech given by Emperor Grover the First on the day of his coronation." Offered the Ambassador, apparently pleased with the opportunity to enlighten the Princess. "If at all possible, read it in the original Griffish. Something is lost in the translation." Orzel nodded quietly, mentally taking note of the Ambassador's advice. She'd have to finish learning to speak Draconic first, but Griffish would likely come after. "If it wouldn't be too much of an issue, there are a few matters my wife and I would like to discuss with you, Princess Luna."

"I do not see why not, Mister Ambassador..." Luna nodded with a more professional posture, her eyes once again falling on Orzel. After a few moments of what appeared to be uncertain contemplation, her Mother pointed to a face in the crowd, the only person who still seemed to be lingering nearby. "Orzel, that is the young man I told you of earlier, could I impress upon you to introduce yourself while the Ambassador and I attend to our discussion? Please, try to keep an open mind..."

Orzel knew she didn't have much choice in the matter, Luna wanted her to 'make friends', even if she had to be figuratively dragged kicking and screaming into doing so. She didn't know the first thing about talking to someone her own age, let alone doing so without divulging any secrets. As Luna was so fond of doing, however, Orzel was being tossed into the deep end... All that remained was to sink or swim. At least it would give her a chance to get away from the soldiers that loomed at the edges of Orzel's fear.

"Of course, Mother." Responded Orzel as the internal battle raged between panic, paranoia, and annoyance. Nothing was going to get done properly if that kept up, and so with a great amount of effort Orzel closed her eyes and took a deep calming breath.

Once again, allowing herself to spiral out of control would do nothing to help her, in this instance it actually might make her appear weak. The worry and paranoid speculation found itself washed away by a surge of cold resolve. The weight of the crown upon her forehead made itself known once again, and in that moment she knew what had to be done. She would chat with her guest, she would be an excellent hostess, and she would 'make friends' as best she could... She would not allow herself to become the cause of some embarrassing incident by having a panic attack in front of a room filled with visiting diplomats. These thoughts, and the ultimate decision that followed, transpired in but a few moments time...

"If you would please follow me?" Luna offered, gesturing to an open table a couple yards away. The Ambassador and his wife gladly followed her, accompanied by the two Griffon officers. Grim and Fable distanced themselves, but remained just close enough.

Straightening her gown and clearing her throat, Orzel walked with eminent poise towards the lingering Drake. As with nearly everyone she'd ever met upon her arrival to Equestria, he was considerably taller than her. She had to remind herself that being short wasn't necessarily a bad thing, as shorter people tended to live longer, more healthy lives than their taller counterparts. It was all about perspective, she just had to keep looking on the upside...

Unintended wordplay aside, there was more to this 'Spike' fellow than just his lofty six and a half foot frame. He appeared fairly muscular, more so than other Equestrians, though he stood with a nervous slouch. Upon noting her approach, however, Mister Spike apparently shook himself free of his nervousness, though when he smiled it remained clear just how on edge he must've been. He was remarkably handsome, with soulful eyes, a chiseled jaw, and an overall air of debonair urbanity. Like many others he wore a tuxedo, though his crew cut vibrant green hair, ruffled shirt, and bright red bow tie certainly helped him to stand out among the crowd.

In all honesty, Mister Spike reminded the Princess of a midshipman named 'Bazyli', one the members of her Father's crew that was periodically invited to her family's estate for dinner and drinks with the Admiralty. Likely the person whom Orzel would have been betrothed to, in retrospect... A prospect she wouldn't have been all that averse to prior to her coming to Equestria. He'd been a kind soul, someone who genuinely seemed to like her, despite her various shortcomings.

That Luna had instructed her to make friends with Spike, coupled with his hauntingly familiar appearance, gave her a brief jolt of panic that this was merely the prelude to some sort of plot for an arranged marriage... It rapidly vanished, as Orzel trusted wholeheartedly that her Mother would never do such a thing. She just wanted her daughter to meet a stranger, a ruggedly handsome stranger, on her own, at a high profile social function... In the Empire, such a thing would surely breed rumors enough to fill volumes. As she'd needed to remind herself so many times tonight, this wasn't the Empire... Even so, the Princess suddenly felt very ill. Now it was her heartbeat that flooded her ears, her palms grew clammy, and her legs felt as if they'd been turned to noodles... She was upon Mister Spike before she could veer off to try and withdraw to make another strategy, there was nothing else to do but maintain her facade and remain calm.

There were many things Spike would never admit to, or at least things he wouldn't admit to more than once. He was just as much a patriotic Equestrian as the next guy, but there were plenty of times when he wished he could spend time among his own kind. Celestia's request that he come and meet Princess Orzel therefore came as a very welcome surprise, especially considering that Princess was a dragon like him. He'd taken as many steps as he could think of to make himself as presentable as possible, even going so far as to consult Applejack's brother Big Mac for pointers... The monosyllabic farmer was a font of wisdom as it pertained to women, even going so far as to provide the nervous dragon with a bottle of Bay Rum aftershave, which apparently was quite popular...

The heralding trumpets of the Princess arrival also heralded the demise of any cohesive strategy he might've formed in his head, because no amount of preparing could overcome the frantic nervousness that welled from within. He was going to meet not only a Princess, but a Crown-Princess... What if he said something wrong? What if she sent him to the dungeon, or worse, banished him, or even worse... Sent him to a dungeon in the place she banished him? These thoughts were quickly subdued, thankfully... He'd been through plenty of situations that were far more precarious than this... He'd gone up against Diamond Dogs to save Rarity, or at least, he would've if Rarity hadn't actually saved herself... Compared to that, meeting the girl that would one day rule Equestria would be a cakewalk, right? Right...?

So there he stood in the crowd, watching as Princess Luna entered, waiting to get his first glimpse of the one they called 'Orzel'. He didn't know much about her, outside of what he'd heard from Twilight... There was plenty of gossip going around Ponyville, of course. What he'd heard painted her as fairly brutish in appearance, and equally so in personality. According to the loose lips around town, the new Princess was a warmonger, out to undermine Equestria and turn it over to the Dragonlands. Ever since the arrival of Ponyville's Zebrican apothecary, thankfully, Spike put far less stock into such rumors. Though Spike knew the rumors were likely wrong on some level, he was also aware that sometimes rumors had a habit of being partially true. Then he laid eyes on Princess Orzel for the first time, and any preconceived notion of what she might've looked like was completely obliterated from his mind.

That the band chose to play 'Faust save the Queen' was certainly appropriate, for she was... Regal. Perhaps most Equestrians just couldn't appreciate the differences between their standards of beauty and those of dragons, or maybe they feared those differences? Regardless of whether or not she was the only other dragon he'd ever seen in person, Spike knew that by all metrics of draconic beauty, Crown-Princess Orzel was a knockout. While definitely a tad short, she asserted a physical presence that could rival that of her adoptive Mother's. Whatever she lacked in stature, she made up for by projecting an almost imperceptible aura of arcane energy. Her physical strength was likewise visible, and it left no doubts as to nobility of her draconic lineage.

The girl carried herself with all the dignity and nobility of Princess Luna, and was the very embodiment of the stoicism that seemed a hallmark to the Equestrian Royal Family. On and on she went, displaying barely any hint of emotion as she met with the various waiting dignitaries, each pause bringing her one step closer to him. Spike's throat suddenly felt very dry, his palms clammy, his heart beat faster and faster in his chest for the moment to finally draw near. The Princess stopped to briefly speak with the Griffon delegation, and then, just like that, she was walking towards him.

"Don't screw it up, Spike... You can do this..." Spike muttered to himself, doing his best to project an image of cool confidence, just as Big Macintosh instructed. It wasn't easy, considering the two walking mountains that loomed distinctly behind Orzel.

Thankfully it seemed her bodyguards weren't closing on him, not directly at any rate. Only as the Princess drew within a few feet of him did he realize that she was more than a tad short, as she seemed to come up several inches short of his shoulder. It'd probably be best if he didn't mention that observation, on second thought... Her wide almond shaped eyes looked at him, concealing all but the faintest glimmer of suspicion in their hauntingly beautiful cerulean glow.

"Um... Hello, your Highness." Spike inwardly cringed as the Princess offered him her hand, out of instinct and without thinking he accepted it by bowing his head and kissing one of her knuckles. The Princess didn't seem enthused at the greeting, but she didn't withdraw her hand until he'd released it either. "Sorry..." Spike added, straightening and taking note of the girl's granite expression.

"There is no need to apologize." The Princess responded in an almost monotone, clasping her hands behind her back. Spike had to take only the briefest moment to ensure he'd heard her correctly, as her accent was considerable. He possessed at least a basic understanding of a few Draconic phrases, and that helped remarkably well, but it would take a little time for him to fully decipher what she was saying in real time. "I was not aware such customs were still practiced by Equestrians..." There wasn't any hint of embarrassment in her monotone, but despite her outward lacking emotion Spike suspected she was flustered by something. "Though I must inform you that typically, among my people, it is reserved for those that are married or otherwise betrothed." Spike's cheeks flushed a deep red at that revelation, and while mortified, he at least didn't think the Princess was angry with him. Once again, it was hard to tell. "You are Mister Spike, yes?" Spike nodded, tugging slightly at his collar. "I assume I need not introduce myself."

"No, your Majesty, I mean your Highness, I mean..." Spike bit his lower lip for a moment, then looked frantically about the room. He was sweating far more now than before, and it seemed the Princess was noticing as she apparently sniffed the air. "I've got to say, I'm a tad nervous..." Princess Orzel merely stared at him, then looked off to the side, as if searching the crowd for something or someone. It was next to impossible to get a read on what she might've been thinking or feeling, but Spike suspected he should've put on extra deodorant before the gala. Way to go...

"The feeling is mutual..." The Princess offered with only the faintest hint of upward inflection, standing with remarkably rigid posture. "I believe you may have over indulged on cologne." Spike breathed an audible sigh of relief at her observation, as that was a far better alternative to his previous concern. "I believe my Father wore something similar. It is not altogether unpleasant, mind you... " Once again, it was next to impossible to tell if the Princess was being truthful or not about her last statement. "I must admit, I am unsure of where to go from here... This is my first time attending such a function." Spike smiled encouragingly, rubbing at the back of his neck to hide his continued inner anxiety.

"Yeah, I'm not so sure what to do myself." He admitted, looking about the room of ongoing festivities once more. "Want to sit down? Get something to eat?" Princess Orzel barely nodded, and just like that the pair was off, making their way towards a small table at the edge of the room, among the tables where the other Princesses were seated. So far things could've been a lot worse, and despite what Spike saw as a rocky start he was feeling confident that he could establish a rapport with his future sovereign. To his surprise, it was the Princess that withdrew a seat for him at the table. "Uh... Isn't that what I'm supposed to do?" The girl looked at the chair for a moment, then back at him, placing her hands on her hips.

"Yes? No? Maybe..." Princess Orzel mumbled something in what sounded like Draconic, though Spike could make neither heads nor tails of it. The Princess was obviously thinking aloud to herself, in an odd dialect no less. After a few moments she returned to Equestrian, this time her accent was a tad more difficult to understand. "Where I am from, it is expected of the homeowner to seat their guests. While I do not 'own' the Castle, it is nonetheless my home... Obviously I cannot do so for everyone, but... Would you prefer I did not do so for you?" Spike hummed thoughtfully, rubbing at his chin and feeling just the faintest remnants of stubble, thankfully too faint to be visible at present. He could understand the custom, in theory, but it just didn't sit right with his own idea of how one should act towards royalty.

"Please, allow me..." Spike offered, gesturing to the seat. The Princess simply nodded, then quietly thanked him while gracefully seating herself, at which point the boy slid the chair in. She daintily rested a hand on the table, the other idly adjusting her crown, otherwise she maintained that continuing air of cold distance. Spike took that moment to look around the rest of the party, noting that Princess Luna was currently seated with the Griffon delegates. Despite her unheard ongoing conversation, the woman was nonetheless staring at him with unnerving intensity... As if trying to will his head to explode. With that comforting image in mind, Spike nervously gulped and looked at Princess Orzel. "I'm going to the buffet, if you don't mind. Is there anything you'd like, your Highness?"

"Yes..." The Princess began, only to trail off and look briefly into space, mumbling once again in her native language with evident concentration. A few moments passed before she abruptly snapped her fingers, apparently having figured something out. "Okoń smażony. The closest Equestrian translation is 'fried perch'? I am told it is available tonight." Spike nodded dutifully, committing the translation at least to memory for the moment. "Thank you, Mister Spike."

"Not a problem, happy to help!" Spike agreed, tucking his hands into his pockets before quickly making his way to the buffet table. It was difficult not to feel Princess Luna's eyes still following him, as every time he looked over his shoulder he found the woman glaring daggers into him. That was increasingly unnerving, considering the woman's previous vocation as a would-be despot, but Spike wasn't about to be dissuaded from his evening with the Princess... He quickly acquired the 'fried perch', heavily salted and apparently fried in vinegar of all things. For himself he took a plate of spaghetti with a nice thick red sauce, something he hoped would help him come off as classy.

In a matter of minutes he'd returned to the table, and thereupon placed the plate of perch before the patient Princess, before ultimately taking a seat across from her with his own meal... To his surprise, Princess Orzel was staring at his plate, only to avert her gaze towards him, no... She was peering through him rather than at him. It was a sort of stare he wouldn't have expected of a Princess, like she was looking at something a thousand yards distant. Spike quickly examined the spaghetti, fearing that perhaps there was something nasty on his plate, but he found nothing but the coiling noodles and crimson tomato sauce. It actually looked exceptionally tasty, in point of fact. For a few moments, Spike watched the girl rub her hands together, as if washing them... Abruptly the Princess shook her head, clenching her eyes for a few moments before regaining her focus.

"I am sorry, I was just... Remembering something. It is of little consequence to our conversation." Princess Orzel hurriedly explained as she picked up her fork and knife, cutting a small piece of her friend perch. Spike could only tell she was shaken judging by the fact that her hands faintly trembled as she brought the first morsel to her lips, otherwise she'd manifested that impenetrable mask of stoicism he was so rapidly coming to know. "I know you are a Drake, but that is all. Tell me more." Deducing that he wouldn't get an explanation even if he asked, and not wanting to linger on whatever had given the Princess pause, Spike carried on.

"Well, I work with Twilight..." The boy began, only to stop for a moment. "You know Twilight, right?" Spike asked, and the Princess nodded in the affirmative. "Anyway, I work with Twilight at the Ponyville Library. Honestly, she does most of the 'library' stuff, except when she's off fighting bad guys and saving the day." The Princess raised an eyebrow at that... Well, raised wasn't entirely accurate... It was so faint that it just as well could've been a muscle spasm. Spike suspected it was the closest he'd get to look of evident interest... Of course she'd be more intrigued by Twilight's exploits than his own, though Spike had a few stories he could on tell to win back her attention should things take a turn.

"You work in a library?" The Princess's question caught him completely off guard, though thankfully it seemed Spike hadn't lost her attention after all. He'd been expecting some request for elaboration on the 'bad guys', but Spike was nothing if not resourceful. "I can only imagine how wonderful a job that must be. I would not mind working in a library as you do." She added simply, Spike's heart sank slightly as he realized that Princess Orzel's interests likely wouldn't align with his at all... She'd be better off making friends with Twilight. Then again, Spike was also friends with Twilight, so why not the Princess as well? That tracked... Didn't it? "What of these 'bad guys'? Do you fight them as well?" Spike proudly puffed his chest out at the question, finally a chance to impress her!

"Heck yeah I do!" He declared proudly, bringing a hand to his chest. "One time my friend Rarity and I were looking for gems outside of Ponyville..." And so Spike went on to recount the story of how he and his friends faced a group of Diamond Dogs, though he may or may not have inadvertently exaggerated a few parts, it was more or less told just how it happened.

Occasionally the Princess would stop him to ask a question or two, or he himself would pause to eat some of his dinner, but otherwise the story carried on uninterrupted. He made exceptionally sure not to leave out the part where he bravely and heroically charged into the underground caves. The Princess just stared at him the entire time, practically never blinking... Had she not been breathing he might've thought her a corpse. Nonetheless she at least seemed to be listening with undivided attention, even leaning almost imperceptibly closer to hear him better.

"Of course... Rarity already managed to free herself by annoying her captors before I got there, but still... It's the thought that counts." Spike couldn't help but smile as the Princess giggled, or maybe it was just a cough? As with so many other of her mannerisms, she was almost mechanically restrained. Despite her coldness and nearly monotonous manner of speaking, Spike knew instinctively that there was more than met the eye... More than any Equestrian could fully grasp. In fact, he knew better than anyone in the room just what that mask of stoicism concealed. He hid the very same thing...

It took a great deal of practice to pull off in front of his Equestrian friends, but his 'feelings' were far different from theirs. Every emotion was stronger, more potent, harder to control. Anger burned so intensely it made his actual body temperature rise, sadness made life a gut wrenching affair, and the less he said about anxiety the better... He'd had all his life to learn how to keep those feelings safely under lock and key, to appear to others as normal, so as not to alarm his friends with an outburst that would be atypical of the average Equestrian. They wouldn't understand if he 'blew his top', or worse... They would. They would see him for what he was, a wolf pretending to be a sheep. They'd shun him... Fear him... Maybe even attack him...? There was that anxiety again. Thankfully, with his practiced self control, he was able to banish the thoughts before they grew too bothersome.

The boy knew according to what he'd heard from Twilight that Princess Orzel didn't have the luxury of a lifetime spent controlling her emotions, and yet so much more was demanded of her than of him. A Princess could not afford to allow her subjects to see unbridled emotion, after all... Perhaps that was why she chose to show no emotion whatsoever. Rather than dial back her emotions, she concealed them altogether. As he'd observed her up close, however, occasionally one could see faint glimmers of what was going on in her mind. Just by looking in her eyes, Spike could sense the depths of Princess Orzel's feelings, feelings that only he could truly comprehend... Perhaps that was the reason Princess Celestia invited him to begin with?

"Anyway... We've talked about me, tell me about you." Requested Spike, now looking at his empty plate. She too had finished her meal some time ago, though the party was still ongoing and the smell of the buffet still lingered in the air. The Princess perked up at that, leaning back in her seat and folding her hands in her lap.

"What is there to tell that you cannot find out by perusing any of Equestria's newsstands?" She stated flatly, in what Spike realized was her version of sarcasm. "If you believe them, most of my time is spent plotting the downfall of Equestrian civilization, kidnapping children, eating beloved family pets, and looking bad while doing it..." The Princess gave the barest of sighs. "In truth, I spend my days researching topics I assume most would find boring, or being tutored by my Mother." She continued without inflection, looking around the ongoing party. "At present, I would rather be studying in my tower. Not that I do not enjoy your company, but for reasons that should be obvious, I prefer not to interact with the people of Canterlot." Spike raised an eyebrow... "Do you not read newspapers? Surely you have seen the interesting fictions they have conjured regarding my nefarious aims to take over the world?" She added contemptuously, the only time thus far that Spike heard distinct emotion in her voice, and even that was fleeting.

"No... I don't put much stock in that stuff." Spike admitted with a shrug, hoping to assure her, or at least spare himself from the volcanic fury he suspected was boiling deep below that calm surface. "I read comic books and adventure stories mostly, though lately I've also been kinda interested in fantasy novels... Newspapers are more Twilight's thing." The boy further clarified, though once again he couldn't tell if his words had any effect... He'd likely need to try a new approach. "I know Twilight thinks the papers said some mean things, but..." Spike shook his head, speaking with honest bewilderment. "It's just so weird to me... That people would say stuff like that? I know you're new to Equestria, but the people who say that stuff don't speak for everyone. My friends certainly don't feel that way about you."

Then again, he didn't have many friends in Ponyville... Or even in Canterlot for that matter. He was friends with Twilight's friends of course, but so far he only counted Big Macintosh as a 'standalone' friend... Everyone else in town was polite and courteous, but... More acquaintances than anything. Likely only because he went out of his way to conceal the true depths of his feelings, so as to protect himself from the judgment of his 'fellow' Equestrians. It certainly made sense in hindsight...

Why did Ponyville so readily fear the apothecary Zecora upon her first arrival to town, if not for the simple fact that she was different. Spike had known nothing but the kindness and open-heartedness of Equestrians for all his life, but... Was it genuine across the board for most Equestrians. He didn't need to read the newspapers to know that the Princess wasn't quite so lucky.

"I believe that says more about the quality of your friends than it does the entirety of our country, Mister Spike." The Princess stated evenly, once again she paused to look about the ongoing gala. With a sigh of concession, she rubbed at the bridge of her nose. Adjusting her rather thick glasses, the Princess neatly placed her hands on the table. "I am inclined to believe that you are correct in your belief that the tabloids do not speak for the majority of Equestrians..." The Princess's looked Spike dead in the eyes. "Were you to read them, I wonder, would they speak for you?" Though her words lacked emotion, the sentence nonetheless impacted Spike with ice cold intensity... Assuring him that anything but the honest truth, even if he supported the papers, would end their conversation then and there.

"No, your Highness." He stated honestly, and the Princess saw fit to reward him with the faintest whisper of a ghost of a hint of a smile, which evaporated just as quickly as it'd arrived.

"I thought as much, but I wanted to be certain." Princess Orzel gave only a slight nod, returning her hands to her lap. "It seems to me that you are an honest young man, Mister Spike. I have only one more question before we continue our conversation in earnest..." Spike leaned back in his seat, waiting patiently for the girl to speak. "What are your intentions for me?" The boy's jaw slackened, his eyes going wide, his face as pale as fresh fallen snow. He hadn't expected her to just come out and ask him what his 'intentions' were... While certainly he found the Princess to be attractive, he still harbored a deep sense of loyalty and affection for Rarity, even if perhaps she didn't see him as he wanted her to. "I clarify..." The girl added. "What interest do you have in making my acquaintance? Do you seek access to my power? Are you a spy seeking information perhaps? Or is it as my Mother and Aunt Celestia say, that you truly desire to be my friend?"

Spike's thoughts came to a screeching halt... Of course that's what she meant! The boy stared at her, gaping like a fresh caught fish. Again her words were monotone, but her eyes conveyed a deadly seriousness. She'd believed him to be 'honest', and now she expected his answer to be equally so. The thought of gaining access to the powers of a Princess hadn't once crossed Spike's mind, nor had any notion of seeking to steal information like a spy... In a world where she felt every person she came into contact with likely hated her, Spike was starting to understand the bluntness and coldness with which he'd been received. It was different now, however slightly. Now she was presenting him a choice, lowering her defenses just slightly, perhaps even allowing him a glimpse of the vulnerable girl beneath the mask. He would not squander it.

"I have no intention of taking advantage of your power, your Highness." Spike's words were somber and sincere, as if spoken by some ancient knight of yore. In truth, he was taking inspiration from the various sessions of Ogres and Oubliettes he'd played throughout his time in Ponyville. Not the best place to draw from, but he'd take what he could get. "I will admit that I am certain your friendship might grant me access to certain boons, but these are not what I seek, nor would I ever dream of acting against you as a spy. You are my Sovereign, and I seek only your friendship, that I might better serve you, our nation, and the Crown..." He bowed his head. "On this you have my word of honor."

Princess Orzel stared at him for what felt like an eternity, and Spike worried if perhaps he'd laid it on too thick? He meant every word, of course, but he feared that his statement might've been a tad too... Intense. Few Equestrians spoke in such ways anymore... Then again, Princess Orzel certainly had an oddly verbose manner of speaking. Moreover, she hailed from another world where, if Twilight was to be believed, the era of swords and warrior codes was still very much alive.

"Very well..." The Princess declared in that simple monotone. "You understand why I must ask." She stated more than asked, Spike nodded his understanding. "You mentioned an interest in fantasy novels... Do you have any opinion on the work of Statesman?" The boy paused for a moment, pondering the name... He'd read a few pages of a book entitled 'Empire', which was more a compilation of novellas than a real novel, cataloging the rise of the eponymous Empire and following its development well into the future. Statesman seemed more interested in exploring the politics of a fantasy world than the world itself, and while that was fine for some, it wasn't so much for Spike...

"I admit I'm not that big of a fan. What I've read of his work can be a little, I dunno... Dry?" Spike stated honestly, half expecting the Princess to narrow her eyes or offer some sort of rebuttal, but she just stared at him. "It's also kinda hard to follow along, since it was written so long ago, y'know? I have to look up half the words he uses to understand what he's saying." Again the Princess's face remained blank.

"I was just beginning to like you... Now you must be executed. A pity..." The girl's blunt seriousness once again took Spike off guard, as his face went exceptionally pale and his eyes widened in their sockets. Then, just as before, he saw a faint quirking upwards of the girl's lips, accompanied by that hauntingly subdued short tittering laugh... "I am joking, of course." Spike laughed as well, exhaling a sigh of relief. Apparently the Princess's sense of humor tended towards the dry and dark. "I admit, Statesman's work is an acquired taste, and I would not recommend reading his entire library of works in one sitting..." As with so many other things about the Princess, it was difficult for Spike to tell, but she seemed... Relaxed. Or, at the very least, she wasn't sitting quite as rigidly as before. "Lately I have been quite intrigued by science-fiction of a more modern vintage. Have you read the 'EG-1' series of short stories?"

"As a matter of fact I have!" Spike agreed, smiling widely. The series in question followed a group of elite soldiers in the Army Air Corps, working in a secret underground facility, who would pass through a giant magic mirror, that would take them to other magic mirrors on different worlds. There they'd fight aliens, monsters, alien monsters, and so on... "I hear they're planning on making it into a radio series, though... I wonder how it'll be received. Most people I know don't like science fiction, and it's not like a facility that big could actually exist... A mirror that could allow someone to pass from one world to another also seems kinda far fetched." The Princess hummed thoughtfully, bringing a hand to her chin. "What... There's no actual secret underground facilities or mirror portals, right?"

"I can neither confirm nor deny the existence of such things..." The Princess once again spoke with a tone that Spike was gradually beginning to realize was 'joking'. "I can only hope that if it is made into a radio play, the network gives it the respect it is due, and does not cancel it prematurely..." She trailed off, once again looking around at the party carrying on around them. "I find am enjoying this conversation, Mister Spike." Then, for the briefest of moments, he saw her actually smile. "I believe this is the beginning of a meaningful relationship..."

To say the last few weeks had been difficult would be a vast understatement, but the ongoing crisis once again hardly registered in the mind of Princess Celestia. Seated as she was now, it looked to all as if she was completely oblivious to what was happening around her. The country was split between adulation and outrage, Pro-Black Crown supporters were coming out of the woodwork, and how did she respond? By sipping daintily from a small glass of iced tea, without any apparent care or concern. In truth, the burgeoning Black Crown Party wasn't an entirely welcome surprise, she'd hoped to refrain from further polarization, but she couldn't afford to show any concern now. To do so would give the impression that the Black Crowns were a problem, that they should be feared, an enemy to be destroyed, which would only feed the Noble Party sentiment and sew further division.

Instead, she sat at her table with two people wearing the feared 'Black Crown' pins at one side and two wearing the familiar eight pointed sun of the Noble Party on the other. Partly because she enjoyed the company the quartet provided, but more importantly to begin normalizing the new faction in the public eye. Regardless of party affiliation, they were all still Equestrians here, no need to become concerned or combative. Field Marshal Arcturus and Councilman Cold Front of Cloudsdale were the representatives of the Black Crown Party, currently engaged in an amiable discussion with Field Marshal Redwood and Mayor Mare of Ponyville. The topic of discussion seemed to be the upcoming conclusion of the Baseball season, as the first game of the Global Series was set to begin in a week or so.

In addition to the representatives of the two parties, a fifth man was present as well. He wore a suit likely purchased off the rack, which barely contained his muscular Earth Walker physique. Two soulful eyes of jade glanced about the table behind a pair of steel rimmed glasses, and powerful calloused hands rested evenly upon the tablecloth. Celestia would've recognized him from that alone, but the turquoise clasp of his bolo tie and the simple white star lapel pin made clear to even the most casual observers as to just who this man was. Senior Councilman Spindletop, the political architect that had managed to somehow convince enough delegates to vote on and pass Bill 250. Usually the Gala was attended by one of his aides, as he had publicly explained he didn't like spending taxpayer money to fund the celebration, even if it often served as a state function for the various visiting diplomats. Given the night's historic nature, however, this time he had opted to appear in person.

He sat closest to Princess Celestia, his plate cleared of his meal, his features locked into a thoughtful frown. Celestia knew that didn't necessarily indicate any sort of annoyance on his part, it was just his resting expression. Spindletop had notably abstained from the discussion of the Global Series, and that proved a much better means of registering his mood. The Senior Councilman's much beloved Lone Star Roughnecks were going to the Series against their longtime rivals, the Applewood Wildfires... That the man hadn't so much as mentioned either team was disquieting, especially seeing as Field Marshal Redwood was an outspoken Wildfires fan. So Celestia paid little mind to the discussion of starting pitchers and pinch hitters, instead lacing her fingers together and leaning closer to the Senior Councilman. That drew the man's attention, and so he arched one of his bushy caterpillar-esque eyebrows.

"What seems to be on your mind, Councilman?" Celestia asked quietly, so as to not disrupt the other conversation. Spindletop regarded her with brief curiosity, ultimately biting his lower lip and clearing his throat. The woman was surprised once again, as the ever talkative Councilman ignored a perfectly good opportunity to start listing grievance after grievance. Opting to use that observation to her advantage, Celestia prodded further. "Come now, Spindle... We've known each other far too long, there's obviously something you aren't saying."

"I've been ruminating on a few things..." The man stated cryptically, glancing at the other members of their table. Verifying they were indeed still enamored with their own discussion, he cast his eyes back to Celestia and continued. She'd been in the game of politics for a long time, and the expression spreading over Spindletop's face told her this was likely not going to be a casual conversation on the finer points of Equestria's Pastime. Given just how monumental a favor she'd asked in getting Bill 250 passed, it was no wonder the time had come to pay the piper. "I'm gettin' long in the tooth, y'know? Not a helluva lot of years left as a public servant." Celestia nodded wordlessly, watching the man lace his fingers together. "Once Two-Fifty goes through, I'm thinkin' of hanging up my hat, goin' back South to live out my twilight years under the big Lone Star sky."

"Your service would certainly be missed..." Celestia's tone was genuine, but despite his spry appearance, the Princess knew just how many years the man had given to his country. He'd started out in the Equestrian Army, and from there he'd jumped right into politics. First as a mayor, then a Provincial Councilor, up to the National Council, and the coveted position of Senior Councilman. "I take it there's something you would like to ask me?" Spindletop grinned wryly.

"Forgot you ain't one to mince words..." The Senior Councilman said with a dry chuckle, his eyes roved over the four others at the table, still caught up in their discussion of Baseball. "It's tradition that longest serving member of the National Council becomes Senior Councilor, but it ain't written in law." Celestia nodded in agreement, though she didn't like where this was going. Equestria's legislative body had already been shaken up by the passage of 250, she doubted its remaining members would take kindly to another departure from the norm. "The next most senior to me is that jackass Neighsay. Man's about as lovable as a cactus patch, ain't a member of the Party, but he's a Noble through and through."

"I recall..." The Princess stated evenly, looking at the table. Neighsay was the Chancellor of the Equestrian Education Association, and as Celestia recalled, one of those few Non-Aligned Council members that had been involved in the 'Conduct Edicts' and 'Decency Demands' imposed upon her niece. While she didn't share Spindletop's dim view of the Chancellor, Celestia could certainly see the concern with giving him such a powerful position as Senior Councilman. Oddly enough, the Princess believed that Neighsay's desire to alter Orzel's behavior came from a genuine place of concern. He was a stickler for protocols and appearances, everything had to be just so, or as close to perfect as possible. Celestia also knew, despite his best efforts to remain impartial, Neighsay had a considerable bias against anyone that wasn't a Spell-Caster, doubly so for Non-Equestrians...

"I believe there is a way I can spin it so that his not being appointed will not cause to much of an upset." Celestia concluded, much to the apparent relief of her aged companion. "As Chancellor of the EEA, he would have a conflict of interest whenever a matter of Educational funding or other similar concern came up. Furthermore, someone in the Noble Party taking the most powerful position in the Council would go a long way to smooth some ruffled feathers, though obviously someone we can trust to do the right thing." The grin that spread over Spindletop's face was gap-toothed and lopsided, but nonetheless a look of genuine pleasure. "Councilor Fancy Pants will make a far better choice, don't you think?"

"He may wear the Sun-" Spindletop agreed, gesturing to the sun pin on the lapels of their two guests. "-but he's about as straight a shooter I ever seen in this town... Other than myself, of course. Damn near the only one to vote against them damn demands." The Senior Councilman nodded approvingly, reclining in his seat and stretching. Celestia heard a series of loud crackling pops, and when next the man relaxed she was surprised to see an honest to goodness grin across his face. "Yup, I'd say he'll do a fine job. Glad that's taken care of, now, if you'll excuse a change in subject." Without missing a beat, the man turned to Field Marshal Redwood and pointed a beefy calloused finger at him. "Now y'all listen here, ain't no way Fireball hits as well as he did in the playoffs! You and I both know the poor fool done tweaked his shoulder, how you Wildfires 'spect to win without a decent shortstop? Roughneck's got the series in the bag!"

Celestia was unable to suppress an amused giggle, genuine admiration spreading across her features. The Senior Councilman was nearly a century old, yet somehow he'd managed not only to hold a conversation about his successor, but also keep track of a second conversation about the odds of his beloved Roughnecks winning the Global Series. Watching as he and Field Marshal Redwood got into a heated debate about which team had the better starting pitcher, Celestia was struck by a sobering reality... There had been similar moments throughout the centuries she'd been alive, and each time the realization was as heart wrenching as the last.

It had to do with Spindletop, Redwood, Mayor Mare, Arcturus... Indeed just about everyone standing in the room with her that didn't wear a Crown. Looking about the room, she couldn't keep from imagining hourglasses above their heads, some with more sand left than others. Celestia's smile became notably brittle and forced, eventually slipping to one of melancholic acceptance. Sooner or later, Spindletop and the others would pass on... Just as so many of her friends and companions throughout the ages. Eventually, their faces and laughter would fade in her memory as gradually they were replaced, and the cycle of loss would continue onwards ad infinitum. The Grand Galloping Gala served just as much as a celebration as it did a sort of snapshot, which she would file away in a mental photo album for later reflection.

Orzel and Luna had arrived an hour and a half or so ago, and though they entered with much fanfare, Celestia paid them little mind until that moment. Passing her gaze over the bustling crowd, she spotted Luna speaking with the Griffon Ambassador and his wife, Orzel meanwhile conversed with Spike... The girl looked about as happy as she'd allow herself to show. Luna was well aware of the impermanence of those in the room, undoubtedly she would come to the same realization that Celestia reached in time. Orzel, on the other hand, had yet to face that reality. As a Drake, her lifespan eclipsed all but those of Celestia, Luna, Cadence, and Spike... That alone would have been disheartening, but as she shared an Arcane Signature almost identical to Luna's, it was likely even the most liberal estimation of a draconic lifespan would be woefully inaccurate. It became impossible for Celestia to maintain her smile then...

Her niece had already lost so many people, but those deaths were mercifully swift in the grand scheme of things. How would the young Princess handle the deaths that came with the passage of time, watching her friends and confidants age around her while she remained forever young, powerless to stop the ravages of time? Celestia could only hope that realization struck when Orzel was older and more at peace with herself... For if it came so soon after her Mother's death...?

Celestia shuddered to imagine what frightful damage the revelation would inflict upon her Niece's recovering mental health. Luna's warning, that Orzel nearly went unknowingly into an Elemental Transformation, still lingered at the fringes of Celestia's mind. The odds were that now it wasn't so much a matter of if, but rather when, the next change would commence. A sort of 'biological countdown' had commenced on the unseen teenaged time bomb... Thankfully, the Draconic Institute's reports on a 'treatment' for such an eventuality were promising. It was another reason Celestia invited Spike, why she hoped their friendship took root... In case a time came where she'd need someone honorable to lean on, someone that could understand how she felt in a way neither she, nor Luna, nor Cadence ever could...

Ah, Cadence... She too had yet to fully comprehend the enormity of the eternity that lay ahead of her, Celestia could see the way her own adopted niece looked at Captain Shining Armor. It was the primary reason above all others Celestia never took a husband, as she couldn't bare the thought of witnessing someone she loved age into frailty. Better to remain warm but distant than to allow the heartache to consume her. Perhaps, ironically, that had been her reason all those years ago for not standing up for Luna's relationship with Observos. To spare Luna the pain that came with the inevitable. Her sister barely survived the loss of their parents, and Celestia had worried that losing Observos would send Luna over the edge. In a way, Celestia supposed that was exactly what happened.

That realization made her decision to back Luna this time seem all the more proper. There were foes that she'd created inadvertently by doing something, but how many enemies had she allowed to arise through inaction? Could she even guess at such a figure? Did it really even matter? No... Looking back to those speaking at her table, Celestia did her best to appear upbeat. This was what mattered. Treasuring the time she had left with these good people, making every moment count. They were her friends, and she wouldn't waste another second of the precious time she had left with them worrying about their inevitable departure from the mortal coil...

Almost complete silence permeated the darkened office of Director Aquila, broken only by the sound of a grainy phonograph. The song was mournful and restrained, a recording of a Thestral funeral march... Soft enough in volume that no one passing in the hallway outside the unassuming wooden door would suspect the office was occupied. Seated in near complete blackness, illuminated only by the faintly glowing ember of his cigarette, the Director surveyed the latest progress report from Project Tartarus. With the combined aid of his Thestral night vision and a few other 'tricks' he'd picked up over the years, the ember was enough to read by, if only barely. The words upon the page hadn't changed since the man first received the file half an hour before, and no amount of hoping would change them now.

The arcane radiation given off by Discord's statue had increased beyond even the most liberal of safety levels, but that wasn't as much a problem as it was before. The Containment Vessel was thankfully completed just that afternoon, and assuming radiation levels remained constant, it would be more than thick enough to provide adequate shielding. It would also theoretically afford them at least an hour or two of time before Discord could escape the thick enchanted wolfram-arcanium alloy. The Director couldn't really imagine just how many tax dollars each panel of the material cost the Equestrian taxpayers, probably more than the average Equestrian made in their entire lifetime, enough to put a considerable dent in even the blankest of checks.

Budgetary issues aside, however, what the increased radiation signified most prevalently in his mind was that the inevitable had come at last. Discord would escape his granite confinement within the next three days, and there was nothing more Aquila or anyone else could do about it. Taking a slow drag on his cigarette, the Director quietly flipped through the report to the picture of the statue at its front.

The twisted visage of a creature composed of different monstrous beings stared back at him, frozen in its eerie pose of triumphant arrogance. Exhaling a small cloud of smoke, Aquila's ever present stoic scowl gave way to a much more emotional frown. He'd had a thousand years to prepare, and squandered most of it on other less important matters... They might have seemed a better use of resources in the moment, but each delay that seemed so insignificant at the time had all come back in force. They were out of time. He was out of time...

The ember of the cigarette had crept to Aquila's fingers, briefly burning him, before being abruptly snuffed out in a glass ashtray beside the dossier. Drawing a fresh cigarette from his suit, the room was briefly bathed in the dull orange light of the flip lighter. In the coiling smoke and oppressive gloom, Aquila's eyes focused on the fluttering flame held within his grasp. His frown deepened with a hefty sigh, stirring the smoke further. He abruptly snuffed out the flame without hesitation, and the implication of what such an act might represent lingered mournfully in his mind. Taking a drag on the newly lit cigarette, Aquila's eyes returned to the photo of Discord. Closing his eyes, he recalled the first time he had seen that frightful form...

The Nocturne Agency was making steady progress towards the discovery of an infiltrator from a long forgotten faction, just one of the many that sought to compromise Equestria's stability in its infancy. Observos the Watchful was paying particular attention to the Tribal Council, as he suspected one or all of its members to be involved. In typical Council fashion, they were less than pleased to hear of the investigation... Observos defiantly refused to back down, and Aquila knew that the council would retaliate swiftly. That retaliation arrived less than a week later, when the Council ruled against Observos' and Princess Luna's relationship. The only way to circumvent that ruling would be if Observos became a Prince... The only way to do that, at least in that era, was to create 'new magic'.

Observos took the news quite poorly, swearing the Director to secrecy on just what had brought the Council to make its decision. He had equally been sworn not to divulge the nature of what Observos was planning, no matter what. The investigation continued, and it was revealed that almost the entire Council was in on the plot. Arresting them would have amounted to nothing except the shattering of the fragile peace that unified Equestria as a whole. No, they needed to be dealt with more directly. That, however, was Aquila's burden to bear... Nothing some properly placed gunpowder and a sufficiently overcharged Arcanium crystal couldn't solve. All the while, Observos toiled away in his tower, pouring over tomes from all across the known world for the knowledge of an age long past. He would bring about the council's demanded 'new magic', even if it killed him...

Aquila humorlessly chuckled at that, he should have seen it coming. For months his friend piled up spell book after spell book, consulting wizards and sorcerers of all types, even those they'd helped to imprison. Aquila was powerless to help or stop the man, there were far too many threats demanding his immediate attention. He'd assumed Observos was still in his right mind, that he wouldn't attempt something foolish without first consulting Luna or Aquila. The Director had drastically underestimated just to what lengths Observos would go in order to ensure that he and his beloved Luna could be together. The devotion the lovestruck mage showed to the Princess rivaled the Director's own, perhaps even surpassing it, as Aquila harbored no romantic feelings for her.

Such a desire time and again proved the downfall of many mages they'd met in battle. Fear, anger, passion... They were powerful motivators, the sort that drove men to madness. Observos had been fighting rogue spellcasters for so long, he hadn't taken care to ensure he didn't become one himself. It all came to a head on an otherwise pleasant evening, that was when the first signs of trouble took shape. Clouds of cotton candy, that poured dairy products across the land, and other strange happenings. Aquila assumed it to be the work of drunken pegasi at first, or some practical joke on the part of Princess Celestia...

Then Observos burst into the Director's office, his clothing disheveled, his hair unkempt. Aquila got the distinct impression Observos hadn't slept in days, possibly even longer if the mage used magic stimulants. Then he'd noticed the whites of his friend's eyes were turning a distinct shade of yellow, the irises flashing between their familiar shade and a sinister red. He was fighting something, something immeasurably powerful and beyond anything either had faced before. Observos then cried out in pain, staggering towards the desk, the realization of what he had done evident across his features.

In those fleeting moments he remained in control, he once again swore Aquila to secrecy, and to look out for Princess Luna in his stead. There were many events that could have been avoided if Aquila hadn't taken that oath... The Nightmare War, first and foremost. His honor demanded his silence, and that honor cost him his peace of mind. In an instant, his foolish friend and confidant was gone, replaced by that foul creature that now mocked him in photographic form. The events that followed became known as the Chaos Crisis.

Heeding his compatriot's final request, and indeed the request of Princess Luna herself, Aquila had used his own brand of magic to alter certain details of the Royal Sisters' memories... Not only to spare Luna the grief and shame, but to preserve the honor of a man that gave the best parts of himself to what he'd deemed a noble cause, a cause for which he was rewarded with only more hardship. His lifetime of honorable deeds were what deserved to be remembered, not his one final mistake, and Aquila took great pains to ensure that history reflected that. Within the next two days, if the various deities that Aquila once worshiped had any mercy within them, the demon known as Discord would be separated from his long lost friend once and for all.

The truth would become clear then, and Aquila was certain it would come at heavy cost to himself... As if the existing cost hadn't been large enough. He would atone for his sins, no matter the price. Taking another drag on his cigarette, Aquila reached across his desk to the red telephone that sat beside his typically used black one. Raising the phone to his ear, he cleared his throat and dialed. A few moments passed with the quiet hum of the call buzzing through, abruptly broken by a woman's voice on the other end.

"This is Director Aquila..." Aquila began, glancing down at the photograph one final time. "Inform the Princesses we have a Priority Threat at Neighless, estimate containment failure within the next seventy two hours." A small cloud of smoke exited his nose as the voice on the other end of the line repeated what he'd said for verification. "That's right... Collect the Element Bearers as well, they should all be at the Castle..." There were a few other questions.

"It's going to get worse before it gets better, the initial containment breach will send ripples across the world, nothing for it but to be prepared. Ensure weather teams remain well clear of any anomalous clouds." Aquila paused as the final question came through the line. "Celestia says we can trust them to keep quiet, but the pink haired one's come up on a few watch lists. Have a Memory Redaction Chamber standing by, I'm sure Princess Luna can whip up a convincing scenario to account for the lost time. We'll need to send remote teams to Redact the memories of those they regularly contact, do so as passively as possible, leave no trace... Better to be safe than sorry." There was a note of finality to his words. "Enjoy the rest of your evening." With that, Aquila placed the phone back in its receiver and withdrew a legal pad from his desk. Clicking a pen and clearing his throat, he quietly set to composing his letter of resignation...