Verve

Filled with food and spirits high, the party - and new guest - turned themselves to the daunting task of organizing their escape back towards Canterlot.

“Before we go, Trilvanos mentioned his grave. I’d like to visit it, I feel as if we should thank him for saving our lives - at the very least,” Celestia said, working alongside Arin to push the corpses of the now dead men from the deck of the ship. Before their journey, she would have been hesitant for a gruesome task like this, being royalty and all meant that she hardly handled bodies - but with time, she overcame that fear.

“I’ll talk with Tempest about it, once she finishes starting the engine. Oarkin probably has a good idea on where it’s at, at the very least - though we’re running short on time. I’d say we have… probably a day, maybe a day and a half or so, before the final hours are upon us. And I’d really like to not find out what will happen then.” Arin grunted, slinging a bloodied Seraph across the rail and towards the Edge.

Speaking of Oarkin, the giant Seraph struggled his way out of the tight decks below - turning his chest and crouching just to escape the doorway leading under. Covered in grease and carrying an empty barrel, he dropped the now useless Alchemist’s Fire container over the side, dusting his hands off.

“Ah! Fresh air, though the black sky scares me. I am lucky to be in better company, too! Tem… Tempurst is a good leader! And Yeen is kind to me.” He ruffled his beard, frowning. Pony names weren’t kind to his foreign tongue; he almost wished he could speak his home language. It also didn’t help that he rarely had a reason to speak, when he worked with the Seraphs.

“Tempest, and Vee. They’re both wonderful ponies, once you get to know them.” Arin smiled; he would clap the tall Seraph on his shoulder, but he’d need a step stool first.

The door to the lower deck clattered open, as Umbra reappeared. Fresh and clean after a quick scrub down, she carried two buckets of water in her magical grasp. Pumpkin followed close behind, humming as she levitated two mops to her sides in orange magic.

“This is degrading…” Umbra sighed, as Pumpkin offered her a mop. “The blood does not bother me. I see no reason to cleanse it.”

“I-It’s a um… tripping hazard, and i-it looks and smells bad.” Pumpkin frowned, holding her cleaning tool between her two hooves.

“Besides, Umbra! You were intent on making this mess earlier. You could have just snapped their necks, but you were dead set on making a gorey mess.” Arin chuckled, the former Umbrum rolling her eyes with a scoff.

“Perhaps I should wet the rags and clean you instead, loud mouth,” she hissed, dipping her tool into the bucket with a splash. It soaked her legs, but she hardly cared - swabbing the deck roughly and without precision. Pumpkin squeaked, as the wet head of the instrument slapped her legs roughly.

“Umbra, you’re just smearing it around, no - stop, here… let me help. Haven’t you mopped before?” Arin eventually offered, as the mess grew a little… unwieldy. She stared right through him in a deadpan glare, frowning.

“No. I have not. Peasant work is beneath me.” She dropped the handle, letting the lengths of cloth splatter against the floor.

“Pumpkin, may I see your mop for a moment?” Celestia hummed, offering a hoof to the little mare. With a confused tilt of her head, she pressed the pole into her grasp. The Princess set to work, scrubbing up the mess with pride. While she wasn’t particularly… good at it - she definitely put the effort forward. She may rule a nation - but she clearly proved her point. No work, no matter how simple, was beneath her when working in a team.

Seeing this, Umbra glowered - snatching the mop up in her emerald magic. “Very well then. If the Princess can stoop to such levels, then so can I.”

From then on, the duo worked almost in some sort of… weird cleaning competition, much to the amusement of the gathered group.

“Arin! Come, Tempest needs help yet. You are wanted with your skill!” Oarkin eventually spread his arms wide, embracing the air with a billow of his loud voice. “I will go wash - I like to be clean.”

Pumpkin mewled, raising her hoof to protest the two ponies mopping the deck without her. “U-Um, y-you may want to dip your mops in the water, it’s um…”

A double duo of competitive eyes reeled on her, quickly leaving her in whimpering silence. “N-Nevermind.”

Arin made his way into the hull of the ship - sunlight filtering through the canon hulls to aid the sparse lanterns around. The ship had three flights, with the engine being on bottom - guarded by a steel frame and several struts to eject in case of fire, it was protected from cannons through two heavy sets of steel plates. While it clearly marked where the engine was on the ship - it also prevented the worst in terms of damage.

Stepping into the engine hold, past a massive fuel tank and a preening Vee, who seemed to be using her feathers to clean up spilled oil - he found Tempest, belly up and smothered in grease. Her damaged armor stripped and her leg freshly bandaged. A toolkit lay next to her hindlegs, scattered wrenches and screwdrivers lining the floor. She was easy to find, as a trail of curses led him straight to her.

“For mane’s sake! You’ve got to be bucking kidding me...” she growled, the Seraph soon interrupting her.

“Uh, Tempest?”

“Ah, Arin. Good. I need you down here. You’re smart and you’ve got hands. Join me.” She scooched to the right - giving him space to shuffle in beside her. A well-sealed lantern lit up the underbelly of the massive machine, air vents on either side bringing a cool breeze - and restricted sunlight - inside in spades.

Accompanying the mare, he turned on his back with a grunt - tucking his wings in to make room. It was a shuffle and a push to get himself in, but looking up at the beast before him left him feeling a tad inexperienced. He hadn’t worked with machines of this caliber before, as he so keenly told Tempest not too long ago.

“So… what’s wrong?” he asked, Tempest giving a sigh.

“My bucking hooves are too big, that’s what. I can’t reach the final bolt here - these bastards idled the engine too long, and I have to pop out the charging crystal to imbue it with power again. Bucking pieces of… buck!” The commander snagged her hoof on a sharp corner, gashing into it. Arin clenched his fist - sending a spark of light to wash over her body with a chime of bells.

“Really, Arin? Is that bucking necessary right now? I don’t want healing magic. I want to be mad! Just… bucking pop it free, before I bash it off,” she growled, wiping the now closed wound over a nearby oily rag.

“Sorry, just trying to help. Gimme the wrench.” She plopped it in his hands, the Seraph quick to dart his nimble fingers up and snag the bolt. With how deep it was in the engine bay, it’d take a hundred small turns to loosen it, leaving him uncomfortably close for the action.

“So, how long uh… you’ve been working on airships?” Arin asked, as even the stiff breeze couldn’t wash away the sweat soon forming beneath his clothes. The engine room was just an uncomfortable place to be, especially this close.

“Since around… fourteen years old, around my birthday. I started taking part in Engine maintenance, after we snagged a ship or two from the docks in the Badlands. I had the smallest hooves at the time, save Grubber - who was simply too short to really reach in and grab anything important. Luckily, they kept a few books on hoof, giving me plenty of time for light reading to understand how these things work.”

“Huh. You know, my first job at ten years, I was banging out nails for the local blacksmith on his spare anvil. By the Feathers, it sucked. Sweltering heat, high demands, slow work… but it paid for food, as my Mother and I were pretty broke. She was a sickly woman, who still worked to keep the roof over our heads. Loved her to death, but she died during a yearly cleansing, leaving me alone. They came for the house soon after, and I was left on the streets at… fifteen? I think. Haven’t celebrated my birthday as long as I can remember; never had the money for it.”

“I stopped having birthdays when I left home. You know, it’s coming up soon - Prancetember twenty ninth. I was thinking of having a little party among my new friends, to play catch up. Since I lost hope for friendship in my younger years. After we take back Canterlot, of course.” She caught the bolt with a hoof as it fell, quick reflexes aiding her in that regard.

“If you don’t recall the date of your birthday, we can celebrate it on mine. Me and Pumpkin, you and Celestia - Vee, Umbra, we’ll find a reason to sneak out… pretend things haven’t changed, and have a quiet night on the town. Paid by Celestia, of course.” Tempest reached up, pressing her hoof to the heavy metal box - with a click of a latch, she lowered it down gently, exposing a large, dull gem.

“That sounds great, and I totally agree - but what do you mean… ‘pretend things haven’t changed’?”

“You know as well as I do, the moment we finish Nightmare Moon, our friendship won’t last, right? Come on. Celestia is going to go back to her throne, Vee will want to run her shop and focus on herself. Umbra will probably stick to you like glue as you take up Knight duties at the castle, and I’ll be lucky to have Pumpkin by my side. It’s just how the world works. Then it’s back to being alone. Friendship is a wonderful thing, but it’s fleeting, Arin.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at that, as she finally withdrew the gem in her hooves. She ignored him, tapping it to her horn as chaotic lightning coursed through the jewel for several seconds. Shining and sparkling, she eventually reached up to fit it back in place.

“What, did you finally break and realize it’s all a sham in the end, or?...” She frowned, the Seraph breathing in deep to settle his breath.

“No no, just… I’ve never heard a pony be so confidently wrong before. You know friendship doesn’t die when life gets in the way, right? If it did, I’m positive Twilight and her friends wouldn’t be able to send me to the moon on a moment’s notice. You saw how torn up and stressed she was in the library, her friends off living their lives - but in the end, when they met - that light within them never died. And that’s why they could still cast Harmony.”

Tempest held the box in place, thinking quietly to herself. “Well, how do I know they really mean it? That they really like me? That it’s all… real?”

“Well, the fact that everypony listens to you when you speak is a good sign. That I’m here encouraging you also helps, too. And the fact that you feel comfortable enough to just… open up to me like this, when at the Waterfall you wanted nothing to do with me - that should tell you how much you’ve grown.”

The scarred Commander turned to face him, smiling. “You know, you’ve definitely found a brain behind your feathers, as Vee would say, or… something. You know that, right?”

“Why thank you. And you’ve found a big heart in your chest over the days, to give me a compliment so easily. Here - let me help.”

Arin reached over her chest - plucking the four bolts from her side before quickly slipping up, twisting them taught over the threading. At least, as tight as he can, before seizing the wrench to finish the job.

“So, I guess this makes you captain now, right? I’d say you own this thing, since you’re the only one who knows how to repair it.” He finished tightening the nut, working on the next one.

“It’s an ugly ship, but I guess the title will make up for it. But I’m short on names. I don’t suppose you have any ideas, huh? I spotted a paint can in storage, and I happen to know a Princess with wonderful calligraphy skills.”

Arin thought for a moment, finishing the second bolt and turning to the third. “...Well, how about… ‘Bringer of Dawn’? That’s what we’re doing, anyway. All of this to raise the sun over Canterlot once more. I think Celestia would get a kick out of it, anyway.”

“...Very well, it’s a fitting name. It matches our task nicely.”

The fourth bolt was a bit of a problem - just like before, he had to angle and squeeze himself in, settling the nut in its place. “Speaking of dawn, Celestia would like to visit the grave of Trilvanos, somewhere in the ruins. To thank him for saving our hides, before we go.”

“I suppose a quick expedition can be arranged - we do have a mountain-sized Seraph on hoof that may know where to find it. Or at least where to look. If the old Forest God makes an appearance, I can think of a few questions to ask, anyway. It will help sate my curiosity, at the very least.”

Finished and wiggling free, Tempest offered the Seraph a rag to clean up with. The grease was thick like gel, and he was quick to accept. But something like this wouldn’t come off with scraping alone. Again, a bath was something everypony - er… everyone craved now.

“After we clear the West, think we’ll have time to stop in Silversun? We’ll need more gear to even consider taking the Castle, and the deer may have some cloven hooves to spare at the very least. That, and… I could definitely go for a proper shower right now. I still have sand in places I wish I didn’t from Crystal Horn Cove.”

“I was actually going to set course for there first - if the Feywild’s magic hasn’t been completely overwhelmed. Let’s head up top - I’m a sweating mess, and fresh air would be good for us both. By the way…”

She looked over the massive hole in Arin’s armor, frowning. “You might want to strip and switch to your old gear. Pumpkin looks cute in your green vest, true - but I think you’ll need it more than her.”

Tightening the anchor and storing some of the balloon’s helium, the ship began to sink closer to the town, at a much more manageable level to fly to-and-fro. Arin carried Umbra, who had grown comfortable with the idea over three years of living with Seraphs - and Celestia bore Tempest on her back, Oarkin guiding the way on his lofty wings. Pumpkin and Vee weren’t far behind - though they hadn’t managed to find her broom, Vee was more than happy to give her a lift.

“We had been cutting at these branches for hours - many hours! They are thick and plenty, and there are more above the tomb! Perhaps one of the ponies can open the path?” He billowed, as they approached ever closer to the edge of the world. He tilted forward on heavy wings, aiming for the floor with a beat of his powerful pinions.

Dismounting their riders, and grouped up - the seven stood at the edge of a large, vine-entwined manor of a grave. Against a crumbled wall by the Edge, massive, bushy trees had overtaken the ornate, gold-laced doors in swathes of thickets. The foliage was so thick, it took some careful eyes to even see past it into the dark.

Celestia approached first, Arin sticking close to her side - once more bearing the green vest across his chest. He fumbled his fingers over the hilt of Sun Song, considering taking the blade to cut at the trees. But he hesitated, looking over the sheer quantity of work before him.

“Well, I’m convinced this is his tomb. We’re basically in a miniature forest,” the Princess said, tilting her head to either side to try and figure a way in. “Would you like to try your hand at gardening, Arin?”

“Hmm… no, it doesn’t seem like it would work. Oarkin, about how many days have you worked on trying to clear a path through? I know we keep the sun raised, but - if you had to guess?”

The large Seraph ran a hand over his scraggly beard, thinking. “Three, maybe four days.”

“Four days, and look Tia - besides the dry branches on the floor, I don’t see a single sign of effort. It’s as thick and lively as ever. Like they never even touched it.”

Umbra approached, her horn sparkling quietly - blasting a thin wave of magic over the door. “I detect nothing save the presence of trees and nature. No spell of Regrowth, nor signs of enchantment. Perhaps there is a key?”

Pumpkin - snuggled close to Tempest’s side - spotted a familiar mushroom growing against the trunk of one of the trees. Chicken of the Woods! Digging around her hat with a hoof - she clenched a harvesting knife in her muzzle, before clopping her way over to stuff it in her pack.

But as she grew close, her Emerald Earring began to shine - a gleaming green magic that illuminated the door behind. A flash of light forced it to click open, the trunks parting or molding against the floor to reveal the wood-lined path forward, into the tall crypt. A thick marble stairway held the branches above, green leaves forming life into the still tomb.