Author's Note

Afternoon Readers,

Bit of a filler episode, but a lot of important world-building and character development went on for this one. I hope you enjoy. Art update: I just paid the first half for the book cover today. By I, I mean my editor did. So work has begun. I can't tell you all how stoked I am to see this page come to life.

Stay tuned for updates as follows, and a possible revival of my Kofi account, where I will likely house most of the images I get for the story.

As always, leave a comment if you like the story or have interesting thoughts on where it might go. In any case, I love you guys. Thanks for reading.

Now, on to the 29th chapter!

Peace!

Blood and Bargains

Grace, stared across the large stone slab that the Diamond Dogs had dug up at the behest of Orion. The rough makeshift table glittered in various hues of purple and red in the mid-afternoon sunlight.

When she had asked what it was made of, her friend had simply told her to be patient as it was part of the show. She wasn't sure what he had meant by that, or how to feel about the dismissive tone in his voice when he said it, pointing to one side and telling her to stand where she was now.

When they had first touched down, a sole Dog stood toward the end of the clearing in a rough patchwork of old cloth and leathers that likely hadn't been taken care of in a great many years.

The black colt recognized him instantly as Balo, which immediately set her feathers on end when he said the name with a bit of malice.

When she questioned him further, he divulged that it had been him who had sat on his back and held a knife to his throat. That had gotten her blood to boil, but Orion told her to let it go.

"No point, Grace. These guys were just desperate. Are desperate. I may or may not beat the hell out of him later, but right now, I want to get this done, and done right."

Eberhard had agreed with him and had wrung his hands, the claws making little clicking sounds as they smacked together in his concern. Considering her loss of control this morning, his worry may just be valid.

Schooling her features to coolness, they had followed the Diamond Dog underling under the tree canopy. The loss of the sky made her shudder, but her friend simply patted her shoulder and told her everything was going to be fine.

Now that they were there, Orion's soothing words seemed paper-thin assurances.

"My Lady, perhaps we were too rash in allowing the…uh…Diamond Dogs to pick the location for this meeting." She was inclined to agree.

On one end, stood her and her retinue of six guards and two advisors. Orion Falls being the first, and her steward being the second in that list of intermediaries. In fact, her friend was leading this negotiation, insisted upon it, and so stood near the middle of the rough-hewn table.

Across from her seemed to stand the entirety of Barker Den. Every mutt that could walk, crawl, and stand was there, unarmed, as was agreed. But their sheer numbers were intimidating, and she had brought only a handful of guards with her.

Before she could respond, Orion spoke up from his position in the middle of the table.

"Alright, now that we have awkwardly stared at each other long enough, how about we get down to business? First, what the hell Barney? Did you really have to bring the entirety of your Den here? The fuck is that supposed to achieve?"

Grace winced. That was no way to start negotiations with anyone. Least of all this volatile group, he was certainly not negotiator material and she was beginning to regret letting him take the reigns of the discussion.

"Don't look at me!" Shouted the diminutive leader from his place at the other end. He was too short to really look over, it had been comical to see until another Dog had come up with a similar colored stone, and now he stood upon it, glaring daggers at her friend. "It was Tilly's idea. And don't you think I forgot da little parting gift ya gave me."

"Watch your tone, or I'll give you a greeting version of it." The shaggy mongrel paled and nearly lost his booster rock. "Now, seeing as she was named, will Miss Barker please make good on the agreed deal we made?"

"Deal? What deal?!"

Before she could voice that question, the little all-white Dog came swiftly around the table to present him with a bag.

"Tilly! What da fuck are ya doing?!" Barney Barker cried out, clearly recognizing the pouch.

"He said he wouldn't do anything for us until he got his things back." She replied tersely, plopping the old, nearly rotted sack into his hand.

"Thank you, Miss Barker," Orion said with a nod as his horn burst alight while the tattered strings unwound to allow small bits of wood and metal to float out in his magic's aura.

The black pony frowned at those. Some of his mane was still attached to them, and his frown deepened when he saw that. A glare flashed in the Diamond Dog leader's direction, causing him to swallow with some difficulty.

Finally, the colt shrugged, losing his angered expression, and the strands were burned away quickly before the ornaments settled back into the familiar spots in his mane.

Orion closed his eyes and breathed deeply as if he had been united with a piece of himself.

"Finally." He muttered, opening his eyes with a broad grin on his lips. "Okay, let's do it." Turning so both parties were in his view, he clapped his hands. "Alrighty, as we all know, I have an idea on how to make all of us the very best of friends. The details I have kept vague for my own reasons." Turning to Grace, he spoke. "Now, forgive my comment earlier. You wanted to know what this stone is made out of, yeah?"

Surprised to be getting an answer so quickly, rather than him dragging it on as a joke, all she could do was nod.

"Well, Tilly, if you would be so kind as to inform Lady Fairheart just what this particular lump of earth is?" He gestured to the tiny mutt while rapping a knuckle on the object, who had taken up a position across from him in the middle.

Clearly, both were acting as negotiators while working together.

"Of course." It was her turn to face Grace. "Your Ladyship, this stone is mostly just that stone. However, it is filled with an ore that Orion Falls tells me would be most valuable to you during this time."

The hen cocked her head in confusion. "What in Equis would I find most valuable?"

"Don't leave her in suspense, Tilly." Orion said, smirking in that insufferable way he did when he knew something others did not. The fact that it was most often the case did not matter; it was still annoying.

"Iron ore. The hills in this area are full of it. If truth be told, we haven't found much of anything else, except what Mr. Falls here has called coal." His grin grew wider. "That's in large portions southeast of us."

"Tilly!" Barney interrupted again, frustration plain on his face. "Why are ya even telling them all that? What's da fuckin' point? Why are you just giving away information!? Thats not how bargaining works!"

"The point, my magical midget asshole, is that superheated coal can make coke. If done properly, that is. Coke and Iron mixed together…" He paused for effect. "Makes a steel even better than I had planned to show you in the first place, Grace."

Grace nearly swallowed her tongue. Orion had said that the only way he knew to make steel was by using charcoal. He had never said anything about coal being used for anything other than melting metal more efficiently.

"So what." The Barker Den leader said angrily.

"So, between myself and Tilly, who had informed me that coal was in the area in large deposits, we have come up with a solution that will benefit all here involved." He held up a hand when the dog opened his mouth. "Shattup. And listen." Nodding to himself when the mutt complied sullenly, he went on. "The interesting thing I found out is you guys can smell Iron. Hell, you can smell all kinds of things besides diamonds and gems. But for our purposes, Iron and coal are enough."

"Okay. But why should we?"

"Barney, cut the tough guy act. Your people are starving; hell, some of them are fuckin' sick and dying." The mutt glared at him defiantly. "Dude, some of the poor bastards were carried up here, weren't they?" Barney's eyes flickered with uncertainty. "I am proposing a way to help them. Help you, goddamnit!"

Grace's heart went out to him. The anguished look on his face spoke volumes of his desire to help. He had clearly worked very hard on this proposal, and it looked like he was going to get stonewalled.

"And all we have to do is sniff this shit out?" There was a gleam in the little leader's gaze, suddenly seeing the easy solution.

"No," Orion said quickly. "Anyone can find coal and iron if they look hard enough. But you guys can do something that would take griffons, and even ponies, forever to do. You can dig. Now, wait." He held up a hand and turned to her again. "Grace, from what Eberhard has told me, you are capable of making certain deals pertaining to your territory. Such as temporary citizenship pending official royal sanctions. In exchange for the Diamond Dogs that are here services. You pay them, provide them with food to get them up and running, and education. They can buy the clothing later. That all comes with crown protection as if they are citizens." He gave her a pleading smile. "This is a good deal. The best deal you, or anyone, could hope to get. Not to mention this would help solidify your claim. When you produce results, it will be because you made the right decision, here and now. So…?"

Grace tapped her beak furiously in thought. He had made an excellent case, if somewhat naively. It was true that she was in her right to make them citizens of the kingdom under her banner, and her uncle could authorize the initiative, but the general populace may just revolt over the very concept of the idea.

Already the economy was strained enough as it was. To place the load of an entire people, though numbering only a few hundred, may just be too much for supply to handle when it came time for provisions.

Then there was the public's view on it. Diamond Dogs were, and still are, often seen as little more than beasts. Given the stories from ponies, it seemed rather fitting as they were notorious slavers.

Something she had originally feared would happen to Orion.

Still, if this business venture, for that was exactly what it was, did as he claimed it could, then public opinion may just swing in their favor once the first steel bars rolled into smith shops around the kingdom. Others of her peers and higher would no doubt take note of the craftiness of such a decision while at the same time be publicly lambasting it as reckless. However, there would be no doubt who would hold sway in this land, and it would most certainly not be Rosebreast, who was already going to suffer for her sabotage in this region with the use of Lotti.

She looked past Orion. Past Barney, and really looked at the Dogs standing there.

Fear, worry, anger, depression. She could see it all within their eyes. But what really hurt was the vacancy she saw in the little ones that clung to mother's legs with little real effort. As if going along with the motion because that's what was expected of them. They had given up hope and were just being pushed along by the Winds of Fate, waiting for them to decide what to do with them.

The fledgling, no, pups, were the worst. Their clothes are nearly non-existent. These people couldn't fulfill the needs of the kingdom. Her uncle's kingdom. Could they?

"Orion, I'm…not certain this will work. Look at them; they can barely function anymore." She leaned over to whisper to him.

"I have, Grace." She inwardly smiled at that. He never called her Scream anymore. She hadn't asked why, but she suspected it was because he, too, recognized that the past needed to be left behind. No matter how fond the memories were. "I have, and there is a little more. Tilly?"

Her friend turned to Tilly Barker, and she nodded.

"If you agree, we…we won't be the only ones to try and make a life here. There are other Diamond Dogs out there, in small packs much like our own, looking for a home as they try to find what we failed to."

Grace blinked at that.

"I would be agreeing to more?! That sounds almost like an invasion!"

"I know that look. Or at least I can take a shot in the dark. You're worried about a massive influx of 'em, aren't ya?" The colt spoke up suddenly. She both loved and hated how he read her so easily.

"It would be…quite a lot, Orion. How many are we talking about?"

"From what Tilly tells me. Roughly three to five thousand. The low end of that is more likely than most, given the likely failure rate of each expedition. I mean, these guy's plan was supposed to be one of the most successful ventures. But I wouldn't fear too much. Word would trickle out slowly as is, and only to those packs Barney and Tilly trust. Sure, eventually, you will have to deal with more, but by then, they will have proven themselves. It would take what…eight months just to find the nearest group?" Orion shot a look at Barney, who was no longer looking disgruntled at all.

If anything, he looked to be thoughtfully considering the proposal himself from the way his brow furrowed, and his fingers scratched at his chin.

"Couldn't send out a…uh…emissary? Is that da word? Couldn't send someone out for at least a couple of months. Have ta get ourselves fixed up first." He looked at her. "But yeah, they'd come for sure. Meantime, we have enough strong backs to provide for this little plan of yours ta start with."

"That's perfect." Her friend looked at her. "That would give more than enough time for you to prove this would work. Hell, I bet you a bag of bits, royal weight, that they could plow and till fields too. But that could be a long-term goal for later. Right now, we need to prove this all works." His grin returned. "So what do you say, Barney? Grace? Is this not a workable idea, something that can speed things up without too much to screw it all to hell?"

Grace turned and looked at Eberhard, who had remained incredibly quiet during the presentation.

The old drake was grinning! His eyes sparkled, and he gave a nod to her, letting her know that this wasn't just some half-baked scheme the colt had come up with on the spot, but a legitimate opportunity.

The twelfth in line swung her gaze to the iron ore table before her, and she tapped it with a claw, causing a flake of purple to break away to float on the sudden breeze.

Slowly, she nodded. Looking up, she nodded again, much firmer than before. Barney Barker quickly followed suit.

"Yes, I believe this could actually work. Aunty's public relations team is going to be a nervous wreck having to make the Diamond Dogs look like anything more than rabid beasts, no offense."

"None taken. I know we got a bad rep. And it's Iron Dogs if that might help." Barney said with a cocktail smile that grew into a chuckle when everyone looked at him oddly. "What? We ain't looking for diamonds or gems anymore. No use holdin' onta da past like that. If we are gonna be digging up iron for ya, and maybe weeds, we need to embrace that change."

"Very progressive of you," Orion said, nodding sagely before a sliver of a dangerous smile appearing on his face. "Hey, you know, speaking of letting go of the past, I need one thing before I can let go as well." He said with false delight.

A chill shot up Grace's spine.

"Orion, no…"

"Oh? And what would dat be?" The now Iron Dog leader said cluelessly, wondering what else there was to talk about.

"Ohhh…you know…"

With a resounding pop, the black colt vanished and reappeared in front of Barney in a flash of golden black magic. Before anyone could do more than gape in surprise, the pony swung with a fist and punched Barney under the chin, once again sending him flying and dead to the world.

"The first,” He spoke through gritted teeth, “was for the fucking knife to my throat and a nasty hairy ass sitting on me. That,” the pony pointed at his prone form, “is for beating the shit out of me when I was tied hand and hoof ya little asshole!" He shouted with a grin on his face, sharp teeth glinting in a stray sunbeam.

"ORION!"

"Don't bitch at me. He had it coming! Didn't he, Aspen?"

From a hole in the ground that Grace had not seen before then, stepped an absolutely massive white-furred canine, all muscle, and limbs, covered in a very ratty-looking old torn dress.

"Yep! Barney. Dick!" She cried happily.

"And that, right there is why I insist on the education portion of the agreement. As the ponies would say, ghastly!" He smiled smugly. Then that arrogant smile vanished when Aspen leapt at him. "NO! BAD DOG! DOWN GIRL! GET THE HELL OFF OF ME!"

Shining gazed out onto a broken landscape of blood and death. The fresh corpses from a battle not long past had yet to foul the air with their stench, but that would soon change as the sun rose higher, and the carrion eaters would arrive to claim their harvest.

He hated such grim thoughts.

Some could be seen already circling overhead, dipping low before squawking angrily and soaring higher once more.

There were griffons wandering the field, searching for survivors. They would not dare begin till the land lay still. Besides, he knew from experience that vultures and other such scavangers liked their meals somewhat decomposed.

"Buck me." Storming breathed, and he could only nod in agreement, unwilling or unable to call her down for her unprofessionalism.

The eighty-three bandits that he and his soldiers had killed in defense a few days ago was a violent and bloody affair, but the charnel house that was just down the hill from them made that seem like a picnic.

Shining could literally trace the battle lines like lines on a page, telling a tale of struggle and desperation. Bodies stacked like cordwood in small hills of spilled flesh and cracked bone showed where defensive lines held back the main assaults. Here and there, he could see the way those formations nearly broke, bowing inward, dangerously in places.

This had been a major engagement.

At first, telling bandits and soldiers apart was difficult. But once he knew the colors to look for, he could see that despite the overwhelming numbers thrown against the Prince, he had won this day. If with far more losses than he had hoped.

Was this the end of the Prince's campaign?

The stallion hadn't seen anything like this since his time in Zebrica. When tribes of zebra had gone to war over something, none would speak of to outsiders of. But that didn't matter to the many villages he had seen in ruins, their dead left to rot in the elements.

"So strange that the sun could shine so brightly on such ugly sights."

"First Lieutenant Shining Armor. If you do not mind, the Prince is waiting." The voice of their guide broke the silence that had befallen them once they had come within eyesight of the battlefield.

"Oh. Apologies. This," he gestured at the sight of death, "just brought forth troubled memories. Lead on Hauptleute Shadow-wing." He nodded politely to his guide, a large brown griffon with golden eyes. The drake was dressed in simple chainmail and padding. It was dark red with the Prince's sigil upon them, with what was equivalent to captain's markings in the Equestrian Armed Forces on his shoulders.

Shortly before dawn, with clouds hanging low overhead, a squadron of Prince Gerhard's soldiers descended upon them with no warning. Only Shining had managed to remain free while the speedy Second Lieutenant Spitfire was apprehended before any of them knew what was going on.

In fact, she and Storming Wing had been targeted first. Slammed to the ground by a pair of soldiers using nets to tie up their wings quickly, and pinning them with catchpoles.

Pestle Break was the next to be restrained. During the initial chaos of the surprise strike, no pony had seen the lone griffon sneak up and place a nullstone ring around her horn before it was too late. One had come for him, which kept him from assisting her, but he had already brought up his shield before they had managed to get within arms reach.

Earnest Hearts was the last, and it took five to restrain the miniature force of aggression as she pummeled two immediately into unconsciousness. Her mistake had been trying to pull the pair of hammers she had worn out of her belt loops.

With his comrades down so quickly, his only real option had been to try and resort to quickly diffusing the situation. The Sergeant was fighting particularly hard to free herself, and the long blades this unit carried seemed designed to puncture the chainmail that they wore.

What followed was a quick back-and-forth between himself, and Hauptleute Shadow-wing.

Fortunately, the Captain was a little more level-headed than his own team, and his small force was released after their weapons had been confiscated.

It was interesting to learn, that unlike many in the Griffonian Armed Forces, Prince Gerhard still used his nation's old way of ranking, right down to nomenclature.

Now they marched across the recent battlefield toward a stand of tents set on a high hill before them, the churn of mud from steel-clad paws made it a bit slippery to traverse, and the ponies did their best to ignore what liquid may have turned the earth to its current state of dark.

As they got closer, the tents were looking the worst for wear. Shining could pick up patches of burned cloth that had been hastily repaired to keep out potential future rainwater. It seemed the battle was far from straightforward.

"I had heard your army was doing well…" The white stallion glanced down the hill toward a makeshift field hospital. Not a single cot had gone unoccupied as medics rushed too and fro with bandages and medicine. Beyond that, were pyres being constructed, an awful lot of pyres.

"The Prince's army has been doing well. Or at least, we were. My Liege will tell you more. I am only permitted to escort you." Shadow-wing's eyes never deviated from his destination, but a tightness appeared at the corners of his eyes.

The First Lieutenant nodded in understanding, respecting the drake's professionalism even if his questions were to remain unanswered.

Before long, the group marched into the middle of the tent city, and right up to a large pavilion set up in the center. A ring of soldiers surrounded the cloth structure, and more flew overhead.

"Wait here." The Captain spoke quietly, then walked the last few paces before coming to attention before what was clearly the Watch Captain "Hauptleute Val Shadow-wing. Reconnaissance, here with prisoners seeking a meeting with Prince Gerhard Bloodbeak."

Shining raised his hand at the angry mutterings coming from behind them. He said no words, but they got the hint and soon silenced themselves.

He understood his team's disgruntlement. They were not prisoners. There was no active conflict between their nations. However, he also understood the difference in procedure. If Shadow-wing had simply said they were visitors or even emissaries, they may have been left waiting. By declaring them prisoners, it meant they moved up in the scale of importance.

"Hold." Was all the Watch Captain said, then dipped inside the covered tent.

With nothing to do but wait, as his escort and soldiers, were not much in the way of conversation, the white stallion looked around. More importantly, he looked at the soldiers that were going about their duties.

Many walked with their backs straight. But more than a few seemed to drag their hooves getting to their tasks.

It seemed this campaign the Prince had been on had been a tiring one for his forces, and the wear was beginning to show.

His ears caught the sound of weeping, and he shrugged uncomfortably. His instructors had spoken about the difficulties of keeping lovers in the same units. It wasn't just because of the risk of fraternization or favoritism, but survivors' guilt. It was one of the biggest reasons a pony would take their lives should they feel their survival was unjustified when a loved one passed on the same field of battle.

Worse if it was family.

He sighed heavily.

"The Prince will see the prisoners' leader now."

Years of training to watch a hall had left him with the ability not to jump from alarm at sudden sounds, but he still felt it and mentally scowled at the watch captain.

Turning to look at his group, he spoke to Spitfire. "Second Lieutenant, you have command. Behave."

It was rude, but considering her actions since their search began, he thought it best to remind her of her tenuous position. She flushed in anger and embarrassment but nodded all the same.

"Lead on, Captain." Was all he said, facing the tent once more. While he had met the Princess on numerous occasions, speaking to foreign royalty always left him nervous, never truly knowing what they may be thinking. Squaring his shoulders, he marched in step with his new escort. Hauptleute Shadow-wing remained with his ponies.

Inside the tent was hot and musky. The scent of unwashed bodies tried to make his nose wrinkle, but he fought down the reflex with practiced stoicism.

In the Equestrian Armed Forces, command tents were typically ornate affairs. Banners displaying nobility, if it applied or the officer in charge was well connected, would be hung about in prominent areas with suits of armor or a rack of weapons underneath. The floors would be covered in rich carpets that blocked all sight of the ground from the pavilion's occupiers. A long table would be set up with sheets of paper and maps as its decorations.

Not so for the Prince.

His decorations were non-existent. In place of banners were privacy curtains where Shining found medical professionals coming to and fro from in rushed steps. Groans from behind those thin barriers of fabric indicated that like the field hospital outside, this tent too was backed with wounded.

"How badly were they hit?"

Around him rushed officers and under officers, carrying paperwork on what was likely reports about the military action before.

The only thing resembling a long table was a rickety thing more at home in a poor barn than a military camp, and in front of that, stood an imposing figure. His back to him as the obvious Prince looked over whatever was in front of him.

"Prince Gerhard. The captured leader, sir."

"Perhaps they do think we are enemies of the state after all." Shining mused as Prince Gerhard turned around and regarded him.

Shining Armor got a very serious case of deja vu when the griffon looked him over. In everything but height and width, he was his father's offspring. The difference being only that he was leaner and taller than the old bird.

"Are you fucking blind? Does this look like a bandit to you?" He suddenly barked, surprising the white stallion and making the officer that guided him in, jump.

"S-sir? They were brought in underarms and without weapons. Hauptleute Shadow-wing himself brought them in."

The griffon Prince gave a fair approximation of a pony's snort of derision and responded. "Val knows me. If he would have announced them as guests, I would likely have just pawned them off on one of the other commanders." His eyes swung back to him. "Name? Judging by that armor, I should ask rank as well."

Shining did not waste time with the normal flourishes of title and pomp normal for an Equestrian Royal. "First Lieutenant Shining Armor. Currently under her Highness's First Recon and Recovery Division."

Gerhard's eyes widened in surprise.

"Fucking Equestrian Armed Forces? Here? What in Tartarus are you doing all the way in the armpit of Griffonia?" He laughed.

"Pursuit of a wayward foal." He risked a smile and a chuckle of his own. "To be fair, your Highness, it's a long story. Your father sent us out this way, claiming that Orion Falls came this way with your cousin. Grace Fairheart. Have you heard of their whereabouts?"

"Father pulled a fast one on you, didn't he?"

"I suspect so. However, I believe he might have had another idea." He commented dryly.

"Hmm." Gerhard's only response was as he looked him over, tapping his beak in a steady rhythm before his eyes widened. "Wait just a minute. Are you The Shining Armor with the Unbreakable Shield?"

The pony blinked in surprise.

"I am that well known to Griffonian royalty?"

"Ha! That sly old buzzard!" He roared with laughter. "Twenty-seven years, and he's still taking me to school!" Composing himself, he gestured at him. "I suppose you've already figured out that you've been had, haven't you?"

"Yes, your Highness." He sighed wearily. "I've known for some time, but it never helps to ask just in case. However, I also believe-"

"That you can ask for a boon if you render service to me." Irritated at being interrupted, he simply nodded. "You're not wrong. Should your assistance prove beneficial, I would certainly stand for your request." He gestured to the table. "Vorder, it looks like we have a way to implement that crazy plan of yours after all!" The Prince called out.

From around the corner, a wall shifted, and to Shining's surprise, it wasn't actually a wall, but another griffon. An even larger one than the Prince, his head brushed the canopied ceiling as he lumbered up to the makeshift command table.

Vorder was not just tall, but wide. The burly bird bore a strange forest green hue to his otherwise coal-black feathers.

He must have been staring, because the griffon chuckled and spoke up.

"Me mudda was what ya might call a Paraton." He rumbled out. "Me fadda was a griff. That make me tall, food make wide." His mirth bubbled over, and he chuckled richly.

"By the Winds Vorder, stop that. You have never even been to the Floating Isles. Tartarus, neither has your mother." Turning to the now thoroughly confused pony in the tent, he apologized. "Sorry about him. He thinks he's funny."

"I am funny, boss." Came a far more normal, if still earth-shaking tone. "You just don't appreciate it, none."

"Wait, so his mother isn't a Paraton?"

"Oh no, my mother is. She was just born in country here. My mother's family came with Gerhard's mother's family a couple of centuries ago. I just like to play off my family's roots, if ya get my meaning." He wiggled his brows. "But I did speak true on one thing. Food makes me wide."

Shaking his head at the big griffon's antics, Gerhard spoke up.

"Listen, Vor. Do you remember that crazy plan you had a month ago? About popping in amongst the bandit's main camp and just snagging their leadership?"

"Yeah, I do. You said it won't work cause we couldn't fly in fast enough to get in and out. And we didn't have ponies of our own to zip us in. You…" Vorder looked back at Shining and grinned. "There's more than one of you, ain't there?"

"Vorder, proper Equish, please." Came the Prince's mild rebuke.

"Equish." He snorted. "When we were growing up, it was just known as Equlisch. Just cause a pony is here doesn't automatically make it theirs." He smirked. "Besides, what's the point of speaking if you can't have a little flavor in there?"

"Again. Forgive him. I think he was a chef in a past life." Gerhard groaned.

Shining couldn't help the laughter that bubbled up from within. The dynamic between the two was charming, and if he was honest, the stallion was more than a little jealous of the camaraderie these two shared.

"It is okay." He said after a moment. "Now tell me, what is this plan of yours?"

As Gerhard laid out the rough plot, the white stallion couldn't help but mull over the words Vorder had used.

"Ponies of our own. What does that mean?"

Lotti Eagleheart's corpse was given a proper send-off. Despite her efforts to kill Grace and himself, the entire population of Aviary, and even the Diamond Dogs themselves, did not wish to deny her the Final Flight regardless of the things she had done.

Orion's friend had been surprised when he had confessed his ignorance about the burial practices of the Griffonian people.

"They don't exactly teach mortuary practices either in school, Grace."

He had tossed her old name of Screaming Rush, in all its variations, after the trial and the former mayor's end. That name had been for a goofy, excitable little hen with far too much energy. Grace Fairheart was a griffon of strong convictions, and a large heart to do right by her people. It would be a disservice to her and to the people she leads to call her anything else.

Even in his own head.

"The pegasi have something like this as well, Orion." She chided gently, standing beside him off the Cliffs that lead into the sea.

The twelfth in line chose to wear a richly embroidered skirt of black silk. Her blouse was gray slashed with sky blue. Her makeup was similar in color, sky blue for eyeshadow, and black and gray for her ears.

Funeral colors.

Many villagers were absent from this event. Those in attendance wore little in the way of specific colors, adopting a more neutral tan style of dress.

The way Grace had explained it, the villagers of Aviary were unsure how to regard their former leader. A griffon, who by and large was regarded as a traitor. Still, she was present and officiated many weddings, helped with births, and even assisted in the fields. Even if that last may have been to make sure things went according to plan.

Grendal Plumage had been the mayor, Lotti Eagleheart was regarded as the betrayer. Those not there couldn't reconcile the two, while the rest merely wanted to convey their thanks for what she did right, and pray for her soul for what she had gotten wrong.

"Yeah, but like, no one practices it much anymore save for a couple of the major flocks." He whispered back.

Orion had chosen that day to stand with the neutrals, and donned his least worn tan trousers and shirt, making him almost blend in like a normal griffon peasant. Save for the fact that he was very obviously still a pony.

His choice of garb had gotten him a few nods. Drakes and hens who had been stiff with him in the past had given him quiet words of appreciation now.

"They are culturally the same." His friend huffed, annoyed.

"Uh, yeah, no. No, they are not." He snapped back. "First of all, pegasi do it to keep their sky deity afloat. The way you have explained it, you do it so you guys can join this Boreas guy in forever flying the skies. Or until he decides its time for your return." Odd that they believed in reincarnation and the ponies did not. "One uses the ashes to sustain themselves, the other wants friends."

"Do you always have to be-"

"My Lady, please?" Eberhard sounded very close to losing control, and Orion peeked over at the drake, who stood just behind them in the column of not-quite-so-well-wishers. He looked close to breaking and saying something rude to his Lady.

"I apologize, Master Lonelycall." Grace flushed with embarrassment. She may have been flexing new authority in her position as Lady of Seacrest, but she still got that bashful guilt-riddled expression whenever the secretary bird got upset.

She looked at him sharply.

"What? He didn't say my name."

She opened her beak to reply, but then Gertrude Stillbeak spoke up, interrupting whatever biting remark she had prepared for him. Now that they were simply friends, she was a lot less restrictive in the way she spoke to him. It was both refreshing and irritating.

She could really lay on the castigation when she wanted.

"Friends, fellow griffons. We are gathered here today to pay final respects to one Lotti Eagleheart. Or as she was known to us, Grendal Plumage." The aged hen said in a strong yet strained voice. Her own dress was a pastel white, her powders an ashen grey.

Clearly, the reluctant leader wished to represent both sides of the internal conflict. Gertrude had not wanted the role, but as Keeper of the Village Records, she was the only one of any standing the people in the farm town would respect and listen to.

Many were bitter at the truths Grace and Eberhard had placed before the people. Allowing them to read, those that could, shifted a lot of the negative emotions from the twelfth's party. Which was for the good, but it also sowed seeds of uncertainty about the village's future.

"We may not have agreed with all that she had done in her life, but in many ways, she cared for us as if we were her own. I remember her working herself to the bone several years ago when wingrot had taken root in our village. How she risked herself to help those of us who needed it. True, she may have come with ill intentions, but she still learned to care for us in her own way."

"She was also a bully." Said a drake somewhere to the rear of the assemblage.

"That is also true, Hardanger Cropwing." She smiled ruefully. "She was indeed a bully. But had she not been so bullish, you would have lost that wing of yours. Wouldn't ya?"

There was a chuckle that rippled through the crowd.

"She helped my mother when the rot tried to take her. I never got the feeling she could do something so horrible as the Lady Fairheart showed." Another, a hen, spoke closer to him.

"No, she was a fine hen. Full of vinegar and fire. A true willingness to help." The new Burgermeister shook her head with a smile. "I've read them letters the same as all of you. If anything, I think she worked hard to keep the worst of her Mistress's plots from our little town entirely."

That may actually be true. Orion's own brief comb over the information in those pages had yielded a similar feeling. Rosebreast wanted everything from an attempted famine to a ninety percent reduction in the population itself. When Lotti had not done any of those, the messages took on a more threatening tone. Only in recent months had the words on those slim pieces of paper been cordial.

Despite her mission and end, he felt that she was trying to mitigate the damage to the village and heart that her leader so desperately wanted.

However, she had her prejudices too. Her hate of Diamond Dogs, for instance far surpassed her disdain for him and pony kind. Though her diary never got into the specifics of what had happened to her to bring about that level of vitriol.

"We may not be able to celebrate her life. No, she has done too much wrong for that. But we can respect her for the commitments she stuck to. Even if she did not agree." Gertrude spoke with understanding.

She paused and looked at the pyre on which Lotti's body rested, then back to the assembled group as if searching for something.

"Mr. Falls?" She surprised him by turning from the main body of the crowd to address him directly. "I, nor any other griffon, has the right to ask this, but would you be so kind as to light the pyre?"

Orion blinked in surprise and glanced around himself, at the faces of those gathered with them staring back.

Expectant faces.

"Well, shit."

Did he really want to do this? True, other than hurtful words and being a general jerk, she had never really done anything personal. But the looks he was receiving said they all saw it a different way. That he was a victim and that it would be okay for him to spite the former mayor.

"You always preach about accepting others despite their actions." He chastisedhimself. "The bitch is dead. No reason to be a hypocrite."

"You know what, yeah. I can do it."
Relief flashed across Gertrude's features so fast he didn't think he saw it at first. "But I'd like to ask, why me?"

"In truth, in our haste to prepare, we neglected the one item we needed. Fire. I was hoping you might have a way to do it for us." The new mayor said with some embarrassment. That was a flat-out lie. There were braziers already lit around them, and all it would take is one of those dry branches from the pyre itself and, poof, barbecue chicken.

He chose not to comment on it.

"Ah." Pausing, he looked around. "Mind if I get closer? I don't want to risk missing and looking like an idiot." He whispered to the hen in feigned self-consciousness.

It was because he was too far away. In truth, with as much as Orion had practiced, he could hit a gnat blindfolded. But the distance from him to the pyre was a little beyond his limited range.

"Of course, please, approach." Standing aside, Gertrude gestured toward the carved stone slab.

It was like approaching a sacrificial altar.

There were three spots on what he suspected was a perfectly square-cut piece of marble. The "altars" were also made of the same material. Oblong in shape, it was cut with a bowl-like feature to let the body and wood rest comfortably within.

He could see the decades, possibly centuries, of scorch marks where others had come before.

Grendal, or Lotti as he had come to know her as, lay with a shroud obscuring her form. Judging by the smell that an errant blast of wind from the sea brought him, that was likely to keep what dignity she had left. Grace's blow had been a brutal one.

Taking a deep breath after stepping off to the side, he nodded to Gertrude, and she returned it. Taking that as the go-ahead, he ignited a ball of flame before him, noting that he had not needed to create this spell since he had been much younger.

In an inspired moment, he allowed the fire to gently descend onto the body and wood.

The moment the flame touched the cloth, the pyre was instantly consumed.

The Burgermeister nodded, a smile turning her beak. Facing the now blazing body of Lotti, she spoke.

"Lotti Eagleheart. We commit you to the skies. We commit you to the wake of the One who has come before. We bid you to dance in His Shadow, and be judged for your days. May you find mercy within His Wings, and should the day come you are judged worthy, return to us for a better life. May your Colors Burn bright."

As one, the assembled group of villagers spoke for the first time.

"May your Soul Soar High."

With that, Orion was gestured to come away from the fire, and collectively, the crowd of griffons and a single pony returned to the village.

"So, that was something," Orion remarked, picking his teeth with a sliver of wood.

Once the funeral had been completed, there was a dinner, with drinking. According to Grace, normal Remembrances had a whole party accompanying the dearly departed. A celebration of their flight to the heavens or some such.

However, due to the nature and revelations in Lotti Eagleheart's trial, not too many were very keen on celebrating the passing of one who had become a rather polarizing individual.

"What's something, colt, is the fact that you devoured a leg of gordat like it was nuthin'." Argust muttered.

Of his original work crew from his time making fields, only he and Tim had remained cordial. Arden had been downright hostile and was one of the few that agreed with Lotti and her cronies.

From what he could gather, the young portly drake was already making plans to leave Aviary behind. Rumors abound that he may just be another of the conspirators, but nothing concrete has turned up to give evidence to those conspiracies.

Orion was just confused as to how the griffon was so fat. While their village was not struggling, it wasn't swimming in excess either.

Arthur couldn't be found anywhere. That worried the black colt as the nature of that drake was shy and not very forthcoming in anything.

He hoped he was okay.

"Well, let's see. I haven't eaten a proper meal in almost a week. With everything going on, from the foalnapping to the trial, I've been too busy to do much more than eat a sandwich. So excuse me if I take time to indulge in a real dinner for once." He snarked to the normally reserved griffon.

Argust grunted at him.

"You know what I mean, colt. You're a pony. How in Tartarus are ya able to eat it?"

"Very unusual heritage." He smirked. The story for his eating habits hadn't changed in years, and it amused him to no end when he frustrated yet another now irritated inquirer.

The older griffon huffed and turned away.

"Shouldn't have interrupted in the first place, ass."

He had been speaking with Gilda, or initially trying to. Argust's butting-in had stopped the conversation before it had even begun. It was certainly out of character for the griffon, but Orion chose to ignore it, chalking it up to revelation anger.

"So…yeah. Anyways, that funeral was certainly something." He said again, turning back to his table mate.

They were currently holding the feast in the mayoral hall, where the trial had been held. The spot where Lotti Eagleheart had been smashed through was already replaced with new wood, the blood stains scrubbed out entirely.

Still didn't stop a few villagers from skirting around the location. Orion couldn't blame them. It was like walking over a grave.

"I suppose where you grew up, there weren't a lot of Griffonian funerals." Gilda mused, taking a sip of mead as she did so.

"Yeah, ponies tend to like graveyards and mausoleums. More the latter than the former at least in Canterlot. It may be due to a spacing issue, but I feel it more likely that it's just nobles trying to be uppity with their money." He chuckled. "I hear old earth pony families tend to bury their own with tree seeds. Apparently, it brings good luck to the family if it takes root."

"Really? What about pegasi?"

He thought for a moment. "Not sure, to be honest. Maybe they have something like what you guys do? I only know the ritual for sky burial is like yours. Only it's done by very few, as I said before."

"They do, though the ritual is somewhat different." Eberhard sat gently and groan, kneading the base of his spine with his slim hands. "They believe the heat of their ashes is to be sacrificed to keep their fabled hero in flight." It was his turn to chuckle. "Though, even fewer of their kind still practice to such a degree, as you had indeed said before."

"Huh, might look into that when I get back home." He smiled. "Finally managed to tear yourself away, eh?"

"Yes, there were more than just messages in that little safe under Lotti's hearth. Apparently, the hen didn't just act as an informant. A good deal of what was there were ciphers and coded messages. We are still attempting to learn what other projects she may have carried on here. The ciphers are frighteningly clever, I must admit."

"Huh, perhaps she was a way station of sorts for orders meant for other parts of the country?" Orion mused aloud. "I mean, this area is pretty remote, but the winds, from what I was told, tend to run southwest down the coast, only to cycle back up once they near Neighbon. Might be worthwhile to ask anyone who might have seen strangers coming in from the sea…" He paused. Both griffons were giving him odd looks. Like he was a strange lizard with two heads. "What?"

"Orion," Eberhard began, "is all Equestrian education designed to bring out that level of thinking? Or is it just you?"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Orion," Gilda butted in. "You don't understand. Most people your age don't think like that."

"Too true, Sergeant Broadwing. Most ponies I have met around your age, do not dwell on such topics, or theorize a method of communication. Not without specific training. Tartarus, even griffons don't think like that without the proper education." The slim griffon smiled a very dry smile. "If not for your aversion to the political leader of your nation's government, I'd be worried you would eventually become serious competition."

"And that right there just confirmed my suspicions." Orion frowned. "I won't say it out loud, but that's what you really are, isn't it?"

"Yes, my insightful friend. Gilda is aware, and I thank you for your discretion. Seeing as you've taken such a risk in your own way, I doubt you would be too keen on spilling mine."

The black colt waved a hand dismissively and took a sip of his own pilfered mead.

"Eh, don't worry about it." He muttered. "It's not like I know details even if I did. The worst thing that might happen is you retire. I can't imagine Bloodbeak having you removed."

"True." Eberhard nodded and pointed to his mug. "Could not help yourself, could you?"

"I am a fifteen-year-old pony. I don't get a lot of opportunities to partake in the finer things in life."

Gilda simply snorted, muttering something about ponies and lack of wits when drunk. He and the old spy just shared a grin. It was rare to see the steward in such a fine mood.

Looking at his plate, Orion lamented the fact that he had not gotten a second leg when the old griffon spoke up again.

"The Diamond Dogs…I'm sorry. I mean, the Iron Dogs are already settled in. Lady Fairheart wanted me to let you know."

Looking up, the colt nodded thoughtfully. "Good, I've been going over the plans for the mine with Tilly. Barney is still not speaking with me, as you no doubt know." Even Gilda laughed at that one, though her back was still to them as she watched the subdued festivities carry on.

"I am aware, and she has also made me aware of the details of those plans. Tell me, why do you insist on so many raw iron rods? It doesn't make sense, and it's a good deal of material to waste as simply spacers between the wooden supports."

"Ah, crap. In all the excitement, I may have neglected to mention something." He laughed. It came out squeaky, and not at all like a stallion under the sudden harsh glares of two very irritated birdcats who were likely getting very tired of his shenanigans. "Um…ah…heh heh, there…maybe a…ahhhh….Basilisk living in their old tunnels that I may or may not have run into…."

Gilda paused for a moment before screaming.

"Fucking Winds tear me asunder. Are you kidding me?!" She screeched, rising to her paws.

"Uh, no?" Orion shied back.

"Oh, that just tears it. I am putting you in a padded cell as soon as I can get these villagers to build one. You can't just go and get eggnaped. You have to run into one of the most terrifying creatures in the wilds too! Next thing you'll find is a fuckin' Hydra!"

"To be fair, it wasn't my idea to say hello to the fuckin' thing. Me and Tilly got forced to take a detour, and there it was! I didn't even see it. We got the hell out of dodge when I felt the thing breathing through the air!"

Gilda looked like she was going to go further, but Eberhard finally got in between the arguing pair.

"Orion, I don't understand. If there is a Basilisk, why dig in the area at all? It would be safer for everyone if we simply evacuated.”

"Oh, well…you remember how I said we should reinforce the houses with iron supports in the walls?"

"Yes, you made mention of building a wall with iron caps on both ends of the wood supports too. Why?"

"Well," he began, "the Iron Dogs actually stumbled across a way to ward it off, though they didn’t know it at the time. Turns out, these things don't like iron, like…at all. Hate the stuff, according to Balo, who had a close encounter with it a couple of years ago. It came for him, and he dove back into the hole he had dug into a part of what I think may have been its lair. It borrowed in after him and suddenly shrieked and recoiled. Not sure the effect it has, but iron obviously doesn't agree with it."

"So lining the tunnels and town with iron rods is a manner of defense. Excellent foresight." Eberhard said approvingly.

"Well, that and the heavy gear the mutts will be using will have iron throughout it. Perhaps in a few years, the damn thing will realize there is no easy meal anymore, and leave the area. Though I'd advise not going looking for it. The breath attack it’s got has some range according to very vague reports."

"Fuck. I owe Private Erdtongue fifty bits." Gilda groaned.

"Why?"

"We…took wagers on what you might run into next. He picked a Basilisk, and I chose another Roc."

"Wait, wait, wait just a damn minute. You guys are betting on my luck of running into new mythical beasts?!"

"Heh, yeah."

"Shit,” he chuckled, “put me down for the Hydra." He smiled.

"Orion, you do realize you may not survive to collect that bet if you do, do you not?" Eberhard helpfully reminded him.

His smile grew into a grin.

"Of course, but if I survive, the payout will be fuckin' huge."

"I…I think once all this is done, I shall tell His Majesty that I require some time off." The elder bird groaned.

"Oh, yeah, speaking of vacations. I think me and Grace should get away for a bit." Orion piped up, being reminded of something he had decided on a couple of days ago.

"Oh, and what would that be?"

"We need a real vacation. It's summer. I need knick-knacks in order to sell the whole "colt-on-vacation" story. So I figured me and her, and a select group of guards could head on down to Neighbon for a week or two." He shrugged. "Honestly, there's not much I can do now. It's all up to you guys to make what I've shown you work, and if we don't, I'm afraid Grace will burn out before the summer is over from overwork."

"True, you have done very little in the way of tourism.” He paused thinking. “I suppose I can stay behind, observe things and keep projects moving along on schedule." He cocked his head. "But why Neighbon in particular?"

"Mostly because it's close, but also it's a port town. Lots of goods come through there, and I may find something interesting."

"When would you like to leave?" Eberhard asked, producing a leather-bound notebook from an inner pocket of his coat.

"I'm thinking the day after tomorrow. The sooner we get out of here, the better."