Verve

Regrouping and shaking off the dirt, the party made their way out of the now faded tomb; the branches old with age and shedding red leaves, plants and wildlife galore having shrunk back at the drain of magic. Breaking into the far light of the city, the massive trees loomed before them towards the east.

Every single one of the vibrant leaves had lost their green hues; shifting to a more autumnal, but foreboding brown. They fell endlessly from the massive branches, rays of light striking the murky floor of the dark forest far below.

“Is he… gone? For good?” Arin asked, as they took in the sight before them.

“He will carry on through us, if he is. He gave much of the life of his forest in hopes we will save the world he tended to, and the kin he cherished,” Umbra remarked, approaching the Seraph’s side. “We should not tarry. Time is a valuable resource, one we can not buy. I am ready.”

“Oh! Right, you don’t have wings.” He laughed quietly to himself, offering his hand - which she took. With a heft, she was quickly settled against his chest. Tempest joined Celestia, regardless of the pain her dignity bore from the act. With Pumpkin hopping up onto Vee’s back, Oarkin spread his wings - and the group left the abandoned Old Autumn Court to its roots.

Their hooves - and two sets of legs - soon clattered on the ship, partners quick to dismount as Tempest took charge. Umbra needed a moment to collect her belongings from the Captain’s cabin - if there were there, and left to do just that.

“Oarkin - the ignition key, if you will. And thank you.” The Commander offered her hoof to the towering Seraph, who billowed a laugh.

“It is strange to see a small pony be so serious! But yes. Here. I will work the anchor, Captain. Let us go be heroes!” The massive key was settled in her grasp before he turned to the wheel on the center mast, the Unicorn cantering quickly down the deck to the engine below - Pumpkin close at hoof to watch. With any luck, they’ll be able to move in minutes. Finding himself alone, Celestia in search of a rag to wipe the mud off of her - Arin approached a distant corner of the ship, to look over the dark sky’s edge one last time.

“Well Tall-fry, looks like we’re moving on to greener skies and bluer pastures. Or something.” Vee smiled, grasping a fresh cup of coffee in her wings. “Think I’ll make it to see the sunrise? You know, before I go to the big cafe in the sky. Or not! I’m not a cleric.”

“You’ve still got time, right Vee? You weren’t specific with the details, but… we’re not cutting it close, are we?” The Seraph frowned. Vee did mention she was kinda… well, dying. Slowly. Back before Driderhold, in the quiet moments of that fateful morning.

“That depends entirely on how many wingchops I need to give that Jerk-face back in Canterlot. I only have so much of Onyx’s magic snooted away, just like bits. Once it’s gone, so am I.”

“Onyx is gone, too?... That’s how you’ve lived so long? Through him?” He looked over his former employer with worry; how would Pumpkin handle her death?...

“Indeed, Tall-fry! I told him to protect you and help Umbra, after all. Shame it cost him his Material Plane license or whatever. I’m not in charge of him! Other things are. And those things don’t like it when he changes fate too much. Including the time I spilled my coffee, and had him rewind time to unspill it. Apparently ‘gross misuse of time control’ is illegal! Hmhm. Jerk-face Time-Fuzz, snooting in my business…”

Speaking of coffee, another sip of the good stuff soon followed. “Anyway, Tall-fry. I’ve got a few walls to stare at. If you need me, please refer to the nearest pillow. I’ll probably be there. Thinking. As per usual.”

And with that, Arin was left alone to his thoughts. A click and rumble sounded far below, as the ship gave a rumbling shake - a full cloud of black smoke billowing out of the engine bay’s vents, the machine roaring to life. The massive propellers on the back and sides whizzed and spun, before clicking at a slow idle pace. Everything seemed to mostly be in order. At least from his limited knowledge of aircraft.

It’s funny - he came to this side of the ship to be alone, but as he finally found his thoughts - Celestia’s wing scooped him up, the Princess looking a little more sanitary. She nuzzled firmly into his head, sighing. “Well. It’s time. Our journey, as chaotic as it was, is finally coming to a dramatic close; after we restock and relax with the deer, of course. Are you as nervous as I am?”

“Nervous? I don’t even want to think about it.” The Seraph ran his fingers over his spare hand. “We’re likely charging into an army we can’t kill, because they’re all innocent lives trapped in a nightmare. And sure, we make a wonderful team - but there’s only six of us. Seven, if you count Oarkin - but he’s not as close as we all are.”

Celestia’s hoof cupped his cheek, dragging him into a sweet, calming kiss. “It’s alright, Sunshine. We’ve been through worse; we’ll think of a plan.”

“I’m not hopeless, Tia. I never have been. I’m just worried about hurting another pony. I’ve never hurt a pony before. Not seriously, anyway. What if I have to kill Honey Rose, or one of the guards I used to work with? I don’t think I could ever come back from that; by the Feathers, I could hardly stand the thought of you being injured. Seraphs are one thing; so many of them are just… horrible, soulless creatures. It’s rare that we find somepony-er… someone like Oarkin who’s willing to change for the better. I know we can defeat Nightmare Moon, but… at what cost?”

At that, Celestia did relent. She hadn’t considered this part of the conflict before. Sure, they could just charge in, arrows flying and swords slashing - but knowing she had to slay her royal subjects… It struck a new fear in her heart. Everything she’s done in her long life has been for the betterment of her ponies. It’s why she was so well loved.

“I’m sure we’ll find a way, Arin.” She eventually managed to speak, “Perhaps there’s a way to break my ponies from their nightmares. I… wait, that gives me an idea.”

Celestia reached forward with her muzzle, planting a firm kiss on his cheek. “I need to find Vee. She’s good with dream magic, there may yet be a way to approach this.”

And with that, she was gone - off to find the preening Purple somewhere below deck. Tempest brushed past her with a nod as she rounded the stairs, followed close behind by Pumpkin carrying a toolbox - both taking point on the helm of the ship. It wasn’t a quality vessel that could bear a command deck like her old ‘career’ provided, and as such - she’d be exposed to the elements while she steered, and fiddled with the rusted controls.

“Arin! You read Seraph, right?” she called with a frown, beckoning him with a hoof. “It’s labelled in your language.”

Oh yeah. This was formerly piloted by Seraphs. He gave a quick flash of his wings - a powerful leap and flutter landing him close at hoof. Pumpkin had an empty page of her journal on leg, waiting for an answer.

“What’s the problem - ah! That’s… a lot of levers.” Indeed, there were around 20 different knobs and bars to pull, twist, push… “Er… from left to right, it’s… Gear, thr… throttle? Sorry, I’ve never been behind the controls of a ship before - pitch, yaw, first, second, third, fourth, fifth, choke, reverse, stall, clutch, list, doors… Why is there a lever for doors?” He blinked, Tempest was quick to answer.

“It controls the airtight doors that block access to the engine, and when pulled with choke and gear, it will break the safety locks on the hull - allowing the engine room to basically fall out of the ship. It’s to prevent a fire from taking down the entire vessel. It also shelters the fuel bay and helium canisters. You keep these drawn during combat.”

“Ah, alright… uh. Well, after doors, it’s… lock, disarm, then the two closer levers are just ‘left’ and ‘right’ - wait, don’t you have a steering wheel? Why do you need levers for left and right?”

“Those control the side propellers' thrust, and aid in hard turns. If you squeeze the trigger on one, it will deactivate the other fan - and tugging the lever itself increases the power supplied to wing engines. The ones on the exterior of the ship.”

“You know a lot about airships. Ever thought about taking it on as a full time career?” Arin shrugged, as if the suggestion wasn’t already considered.

“I may know how to pilot and service a ship, but it was more so out of necessity than desire. I’m self taught in many aspects. But… thank you. The compliment doesn’t go unappreciated.” The mohawk mare bowed her head. “Pumpkin, did you get all of that?”

“Yes, Tempest!” The little mare saluted. She tore the page from her journal, before roughly strapping it to the wheel with a familiar leather strap. Arin swore he saw it somewhere before; wasn’t that the same one wrapped around her-...

“Check if we’re safe to move - see if Oarkin needs help settling the anchor. It shouldn’t take more than a dozen hours to reach Canterlot - scout ships tend to be fast and easy to handle. Besides, I’m going to need a minute to kick the rust off these gears. This level of neglect would not have been tolerated under my command.” The chipped horn mare nodded to the Seraph. Well, it wasn’t like he had a schedule or anything… it wouldn’t hurt to do a little heavy lifting.

Joining the massive mountain of a Seraph on the main deck below, he gave a wave as Oarkin pushed the anchor’s pinwheel in slow, agonizing circles. A job like this was built for four Seraphs, or eight Inert, after all - but the fact that Oarkin could do it alone was astounding.

“Room for one more?” Arin smiled, taking a massive peg on the other side.

“Ah! Help is always welcome, King. If you will!” He gave his usual boisterous laugh, the Knight quick to aid in drawing the chained anchor from the ruins far below. It churned into place with satisfying clicks of steel, but regardless of their combined efforts - it would take a minute.

“So, why do you call me King, anyway? I gave up that title when I returned here.”

“Aha! Any friend of the Fallen Ravens is a friend of mine! They were an honorable clan, and loved by many - even as far as the South, where I lived. But I was not a wise man; I was taken when visiting my mother’s grave, in Alma Sol, several years ago. I am a man of both countries, but I had little choice. Fight for Leotoln, or fight my way home. I am a strong. But not as strong as many, many men.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Oarkin. Do you still want to go back? I could probably set something up, after we take back the castle.”

“Now? Maybe. I have much to see! Equestria has good air, and many cute ponies - now that I am free, I want to be a hero. I hear there is a place like my home - far north, in the snow. Yakyakistan! I would like to visit. They say they hold strength… er…”

He thought of the word for several moments, before speaking. “Tests! Tests of strength, yes. It’s very good for someone like me.”

“Well, I’m sure Celestia can make you a citizen too, if you’d like. After all - you should be rewarded for your help.” Arin smiled, grunting as the clicking of the anchor grew high.

“No! A hero does not work for reward. I am doing this to feel good! Like you do, when you help your many friends. You feel good, yes?” The anchor clicked into place, lodged in the center of the hull. An odd place to put it - but perhaps it had some kind of significance to its position. Oarkin waved with his hand - pointing for the smaller Seraph to stand nearby as he worked.

His giant hand seized the side of a grill - ripping it up to rest on its hinges, repeating the process with the other half on the far side. With a click of his powerful gray magic, he hefted the anchor system up - before letting it click and slam back down, a floor below. Once everything was back in place, he tossed the iron grates down with heavy bangs - clearing the top deck for the journey, and securing the anchor so it couldn’t be dropped by accident.

“I guess you’ve got a point, Oarkin. But anyway, if you feel like sticking around after this coming conflict, I’d say talk with Tia. She’ll know a few places you might fit in, besides Yakyakistan. At the very least, Equestria could always use hearts in the right place.”

“My heart is in my chest King. Do… hm. This must be a saying. I am not good with saying. Explain.”

Oh yeah. Equestrian, or on Erenorn - Sarin, is Oarkin’s second language.

“Equestria needs more heroes like you can be. That’s what I mean.” The Seraph smiled, offering his hand to the not-so-gentle giant. The mountain of a man seized it in an iron grip, billowing with laughter as he gave a very powerful handshake. Ow. OW.

“Now you speak words I like! Yes, I will talk to the ruby horse. She seems very nice. She is down below deck, yes?”

Arin slowly withdrew his absolutely destroyed hand, quietly hiding the broken fingers beneath his arm. Stifling the pain, and putting it down somewhere deep - he gave a grunt and a nod. “Yep, downstairs. Please don’t hug her or shake her hoof. She may die. Thank you.”

At that, the Knight quickly turned away, forcing himself to cast Antithesis on his smashed hand. The bones popped back into place, mending quickly. By the Feathers, if this was a hoofshake - er… handshake, a hug would be fatal. Thus the warning.

Umbra stepped free of the dim Captain’s cabin, her usual saddlebag draped over her barrel as the ship began to move. She looked a lot healthier now, and as strong willed as ever - save for her bare ribs. That would only ever heal with time. At least she didn’t scar easily.

“Hello again, ‘spooky horn’,” Arin teased, the dark mare smirking at the jest.

“And to you as well, my suicidal friend. Do not think I did not witness the hand you clasped. You are lucky to have a limb left at all, I am sure.” She tossed her mane, giving a quiet yawn as the forest creaked beneath them in the faded sunlight. Tempest was gentle on the throttle, thankfully - from the way she described the lack of care for the ship, he wouldn’t be surprised if this thing was on its last legs. He simply couldn’t see the damage, unlike her.

Celestia did note, long ago, that airships were costly things on the crown budget. Maintenance must have been the core reason.

“I was curious, Arin. Are you fully committed to Princess Celestia? Or are you simply biding your time on a final decision for your love of Princess Luna? The details of this revelation were rather… murky, when you explained it earlier,” Umbra asked, not caring to check for snooty Princesses. She was either as equally suicidal as he is when it came to emotion, or simply had too much gall to care if Celestia heard her prying about their relationship.

The Ascended grew a little nervous at the question. In truth, there were a lot of emotions there, enough to keep a therapist busy for a few months - and he couldn’t just lie to Umbra. It was near impossible; she could see right through any fib you fed her, and she was very quick to exploit that skill. And he couldn’t just walk away, either. After her stunt on this very same deck earlier, she deserved a proper explanation.

“Here. Let’s head somewhere private. Though uh, privacy is going to be hard to find on this ship. There just isn’t much room to work with.”

“Oh? If you were truly in love with the Princess, you would need no privacy to admit this. But very well, follow me. The Captain’s Cabin is still free of errant ears.”

With a flick of her tail, she turned and led the way back inside. It almost felt wrong, following her - especially because he knew their friendship actually had three years of sustenance behind it, and any point he’d bring up about staying with the Princess would be quickly dismantled. He had a feeling that this wasn’t going to be a fun talk about sweethearts. More like a direct assault about his poor judgement.

It also hurt that she pinpointed a problem with his relationship. How much love did he really have for his sunlight mare? She did push the letter, at the start… quite hard, too.

Maybe he’s overthinking things. He was just going to explain the situation to her, she would nod and say a few sagely words, then she’d let him run off with his tail between his legs. After all, it’s not like he had much choice in anything he’s done so far. Well, besides maybe what he wore in the morning… set of clothes A, or set of clothes B.

…

Arin definitely had problems. Maybe he’ll go to the same therapist Celestia will, when it’s all said and done. They could call it couple’s therapy. The door to the small cabin clicked shut behind him, plunging him into the dim light of the shuttered windows and burning candles.

This careful flight back was going to be exceptionally rough for him. He could tell.