Author's Note

"You're late."

"No I'm not. It's still Monday."

"Don't split hairs with us! What's the deal?"

"Well, I got sick-

So yeah, wasn't feeling to hot this morning or yesterday. Only now have I been able to rouse myself from the total cocoon of my bed. Again, this chapter had no editor other than myself, I'm sure you guys will find mistakes.

Next week, chapter 29 will be getting a bit of a retcon, didn't like how one of the characters turned out, so I am altering the story.

Pray I don't alter it further.

Hope you all had a wonderful weekend, and that a great week is coming your way.

Thanks for reading!

Peace.

Dodged a Blade

The journey back was largely uneventful. However, as Orion explained to Grace just who he suspected of the sabotage of the metal brackets holding the tongue in place, he had to almost physically restrain the noblegriffon.

When he got to the part where he had spotted Booh Heart, and she had practically fled back down the path into Neighbon, his noble friend was halfway out of her seat to order the turnaround of the entire carriage, including keeping her from issuing orders to the troops now at her command. It took him a significant amount of charm and convincing to keep the hen in her seat and from doing anything other than absorbing the information.

For his trouble, he was once again lectured about keeping secrets from her.

It only got worse when he confessed to her about the Church having watchers surround the inn and follow them poorly throughout the city as they enjoyed their time. He explained that the likely source of them was the museum he and Gilda had gone to the second day in town.

That did not go over well, and he winced when she called his guard friend in to berate her as well for not saying anything about it.

After that, Grace decided not to speak with him for the rest of the day. Or evening, for that matter, noticing with a bit of anger that his bedroll had been placed with the soldiers and well away from the fire. A fire he had started for them.

Yet, he understood her stance and couldn't blame her anger. His constant and blatant hiding of information she should have known had driven a wedge between the pair. It had begun long ago, but with her sudden shift in attitude towards him, the gaps were now far more noticeable.

She and her retinue were as equally in danger as he was, and by not telling her, none of them were the wiser to the risk. That was likely, as Thorncrest would say, unsatisfactory.

Speaking of the griffon commander, it was clear he shared his Lady's current distrust of him. But while hers was a deep disappointment in his continued secretive behavior, his seemed steeped in suspicion of the pony who had somehow wormed his way into the otherwise good graces of the Royal Family.

Apparently, Bloodbeak had not seen fit to inform the officer of just what was going on.

“Eh, once we get to Aviary, he'll understand. Or try and strangle me, either or.”

Despite her anger at him, he knew he was right. What could she have done? From what he could learn, the group running the museum was seen as nothing but beneficial for the tiny city-state.

They promoted events to set up relief efforts when storms battered the city into submission. They even offered cash assistance for families when a pillar fell and destroyed all that was built inside—a rare thing, the last happening twenty-two years ago. Yet still, for all intents and purposes, the Church of Sol in Neighbon was seen as a net positive.

The worst that might have happened was the populace at large would regard them with suspicion themselves. A group of relative strangers claiming nefarious intent by what had been seen as their neighbors and friends?

That would not have gone over well.

Upon the second day, the noble hen must have seen that his reasoning had ultimately been, while not correct, possibly the most prudent course of action.

Telling her while they were in the city might have just made it worse for all of them. The black pony couldn't have imagined she would have acted like nothing was happening, and she reluctantly agreed that it would not have been outside her character to order them all back to Aviary sooner rather than later.

It had been difficult enough for Orion to hide his awareness, especially as he wanted to pound their heads in himself. Grace Fairheart had a terrible poker face and would've been all over the first one to be spotted the very next day. That would have let the cat out of the bag and all the ramifications that went with it.

During lulls in the conversation, he had taken to fiddling with his enchantments again. However, as he proceeded to crack the issue, he became very alarmed.

While adding what was essentially a rangefinder to his radar, he discovered an issue. An issue he had created through his ignorance and boredom.

Somehow, through unknown means, with the new enchantment’s installation, he removed the feature that allowed him to see roughly ten feet past walls. Now, there was nothing. It did not activate at all. That was the reason why he had not known of the Church's agents being around the inn at first.

It had taken him stepping out onto his personal veranda to pick up that they were there.

When he assembled the second matrix, he thought he had kept both lines of spell code separate. But now, as he peered into their individual construction, he noticed that parts of the spells had fused in a way he could not explain.

The section of fused mathematics and programming damaged the original structure or its matrix in such a way that part of the build was cut off completely, leaving a powerless section not operating at all. He had really dodged the whole accidentally killing them off by the barest of margins. Fortunately, the mess of connections had pulled the excess build-up power back into the ether like a grounding wire.

“Perhaps it's the size of the circuits?” He mused thoughtfully, gently prodding at a portion of the gold wire, noting the flair of magical energy that pulsed dully. Apart from the assembly, it did not light up at all.

He sighed and regarded the Bat-carved charm wryly. This was the third version of his Radar and the first with that carving. The phoenix had been a bit too much. Considering this wasn't a revival aid, it made more sense that the jewelry acted as a sonar, thus the change.

Given that this device was slimmer than previous creations, Orion had been forced to go as thin as possible. A needle-like white diamond sat comfortably wrapped in the gold filament. The diamond was one of his few remaining gems from that impromptu robbery on the street corner all those years ago.

“Yeah, maybe there is only so much you can fit in something so small. Or,” he frowned, “I'm missing something. God, I wish I could take a look at Celestia’s gate one more time.”

There had been a lot he hadn't understood then, peering into the inner workings of that monstrosity, and while trial and error had been his friend for more than a few years now, he seemed to have run into a wall. Another look, even taking some notes, would have taken him further than he was now.

It was a puzzle, one that his equipment below the streets of Canterlot couldn't solve any longer. He needed more.

“Perhaps…I should have…no, that would have been too risky. Stealing from the museum? Hah! I'd have been pegged for sure.”

“Orion. We are here.” Grace's voice broke him from his thoughts as he let go of the braid with the bat charm and blinked in surprise. Had it really been that long already?

“Already?” He asked, parroting his thoughts. “How come it took almost three days to get to Neighbon? But only a day and some change to get back.”

“The winds coming up are much stronger, allowing us to proceed farther.” She snickered softly. “Mostly, the team pulling us has simply been coasting on the winds. As well as Kom’adant Thorncrest’s own griffons replacing our own in mid-flight.”

“Really…” He mused, impressed by not even noticing the changeover. A thought he had pushed down before they left for the tropical vacation reared its head again. “Say, how are you guys capable of keeping this carriage afloat?”

“Pardon? Oh!” She said brightly, some of her new cool reserve cracking a bit. “As you are aware, Pegasi can project their innate magic into things they carry, such as carts.” He nodded along. That was common knowledge after all, though weird as hell how they did it. “Well, to a lesser extent, we can too. Only it would take more than one, depending on the weight of the load they are to essentially carry. A carriage this size may only take two or three Pegasi to tow. However, we need seven to get it to move. Seven Griffons to move it easily and not put too much strain on the team.”

He cocked his head in thought, his ears popping with the drop in altitude.

“It feels like you guys got screwed over in the genetics lottery.” He responded after a moment.

“Genetics? What do you mean?”

That was a tricky question to answer without the sticky details of DNA and evolution.

“Well,” he began slowly, “it's kinda like how I can use magic but cannot fly.” He pointed to her. “Or how you can fly but not really be able to use magic outside of talent or skill. In the case of Griffons and Pegasi, we are comparing two flying races. The Pegasi seem to have a disproportionate advantage in terms of messing with weather patterns, carrying heavy shit with ease, and being faster in the skies overall.”

“Ah, I suppose that is true. But you forget. We can fly higher, due to our wider span of wings, as well as quieter. Also, we can see far better in the darkness than Pegasi can.” She smiled lightly and displayed the claws on her hand. “And, of course, let's not forget the natural weapons we are born with.”

“Huh, you're right. Just hadn't thought about any of it till now.” He nodded, tapping his muzzle, to which he earned a smirk from Grace. “What?”

“You seemed to have picked up some habits from us.” Her smirk became a broad smile.

“Ah, shit.” He muttered. “Damn impressionable mind.”

Shortly after his arrival in Aviary, he had found himself more and more doing what he had come to call the “thought-tap”. The hen across from him had begun teasing him about it the first time she noticed.

“Oh, don't be mad, Orion. Think of it as you having absorbed some culture from us, is all.” Her smile was slight and carried with it a note of sorrow.

The colt noticed the smile and carefully sighed inwardly.

Besides the silent treatment, Orion had noticed a distinct lack of space invasion by her on the return journey. When before, during the trip to and while in Neighbon, she had been constantly touching him on the shoulder, or back, now her hands remained firmly in her lap. Or wrapped around a book.

He remembered his grandfather saying something about taming farm animals by touching them and letting them feel your touch and smell your scent so you no longer bothered them. One of the first stages in taming any animal safely.

During those moments when her fingers met his fur or clothes, he felt very much like the donkey that had kicked him when he got too close after thinking it was safe during a school field trip. It had only been five minutes, which, upon reflection, was not enough time for anyone to get used to anything.

By now, she would have been pushing him or something, so her lack thereof was a good sign of her resolve. Yet, he missed that portion of their friendship. It was dumb and hypocritical, but there it was.

With a somewhat hard jolt that shuddered through his seat and into his ass, shouts from outside informed the pair that there were more than just troops in the landing zone.

Orion huffed, already anticipating the wide range of issues that likely cropped up after his departure. There was no way the lot had managed to work out all his notes properly, and he was dreading the corrections he would have to make just to get them back on track.

Looking over, the colt regarded his friend. Her fingers delicately worked the straps to one of her satchels, the claws not hindering her in the least as she cinched a few of the leather tabs.

“This is right,” he said to himself as he watched. We can't do this to each other anymore, and she isn't the only one sending mixed signals. Yet,” a little voice in his head spoke softly, “perhaps one day when you're your own man.”

He shrugged. That would have to be an answer for Future Orion.

Besides, what he told Roderick on that pier was true enough, and he was happy with the results regardless of how much it stung.

However, he had left out the sinking feeling in his gut that there was more to the world than what came out in the Daily Sounder. Something was amiss that he could not quite put a finger on, but the sensation that there was a wrongness wouldn't leave him.

But those unspoken feelings were just more grains of sand piled on. He did not want to carry that load if he could help it.

Grabbing his bag, he stepped down and out of the carriage and refrained from offering his hand to Grace.

In the two days they had been in this newfound paradigm, he had found that the no-touching rule had gone beyond just her now-forgotten flirtations. She did not take his hand when entering and exiting the coach, nor did she sit in any way close to him. As if she couldn't trust him, or more likely, herself.

It was no surprise, really.

He had known she was in her room when Roderick had started in on his shit again. Rather than blow him off like usual, he found he had an opportunity to make things clear for both of them without having to approach her about it personally. It was a brilliant ploy, but it left him feeling sick with regret.

“I am such a coward.”

Stepping away from the entrance to the cab, Grace soon appeared, stepping down gracefully as the Burgermeister and the remaining elders approached after the royal hen waved away Thorncrest's soldiers. Those idiots had actually placed hands on curved swords with a ready stance to go with it.

“Ah, Lady Fairheart!” The new mayor called out, briefly shooting the stink eye at the guards who begrudgingly moved out of her way. “It is so good of you to return, but I thought you were not scheduled to be back for another few days. Did something happen?” Gertrude Stillbeak asked with mild concern, but only just. The hen looked happy. No, downright excited.

“Something good happened?” He mused.

“No,” she shook her head. I believed it was just time to return. The summer is coming to an end soon, and I want my business in the Aviary done—before Orion returns home, that is. I fear I shall be unable to return for quite some time.”

Before arriving, they decided that it was best not to tell the local leadership of anything that had gone down in Neighbon, including the limited interactions with the Church. Considering last month's events, it wasn't really their problem, and neither of them could see the benefit of bringing more panic to the village.

“Oh, well, we are excited for your return.” She beamed. “Come, see what has been done in only a matter of a few days!” She shot a smirk at Orion before turning and walking away arm-in-arm with Grace.

“Okay, what did you all do while I was gone?”

He goggled at the wall that ran from a rock ridge to the north, all the way south. It was massive and stood at least 3 paces taller than himself and thick enough to support the walkway and rail frame that was built into the side around the gate. On the village side, of course.

As per his instructions, iron caps were placed above and under the ground on the ends of the wood pikes at regular intervals. Iron brackets, stretching from one post to another, added a nice touch and even more support to the thick grey wood.

What shocked him was that the project was done. For the most part, at least, the gate still needed a little framing work, but it was up to more or less. How had they managed to get so much done in such a short amount of time?

The colt had also found himself a little stunned at the town itself when they had passed through on their way to the wall.

Hanging garden terraces hung from nearly every home, made of iron and clay, packed with dirt. He hadn't proposed that. But the iron caps he suggested for the supports of homes were there, too.

On further thought, his only suggestion was to dig out the dirt and line the metal lattices with wood before putting the soil and plants back in. He was not sure if tetanus existed but was not eager to find out. Instead, they had decided to work clay into molded pots for the plants now growing there.

Standing at the gate and looking back into the village, he smiled.

“Alright. Now, how did you guys do on the main project?” That got a lot of smarmy grins, and not just from the griffons. The Dogs themselves were looking rather smug as they practically shoved him toward the hill to the east.

The Foundry had to be the greatest change in the village, excluding the refurbished barracks that the new soldiers who had arrived with them were now occupying.

Three kilns were fired up, taking advantage of the rising air pressure floor, the inflow from the cliffs, and the massive bellows on the slides to keep the flames going with plenty of oxygen. The once-collapsing structure that surrounded the ancient forges had been completely replaced with the same gray wood that lined the town's border.

It looked like someone took stone and tried to make it look like timber, though meters of the stuff surrounded each furnace. His concern about a fire hazard was dismissed upon seeing that. When he spotted the splash marks on the wood, they just laughed it off and explained that Ironwood didn't burn easily. No matter how many accidents, splashes like that wouldn't have done a thing.

There were plenty of vents in the roof, propped open on top of the slightly slanted rooftop, so workers didn't sweat to death or choke on the fumes. That was one of the reasons this facility had been placed by the cliff; air currents could easily keep the workers cool during the worst of the day.

Speaking of workers, it was a maelstrom of activity. Griffons and Iron Dogs milled about in a coordinated fashion that he could see yet not explain. They hadn't had traffic accidents as of yet. With leather vests and guards on exposed limbs, these smiths were light on their paws, shouting orders over one another as a stream of large sand casings was hustled out by a team to sit on a hill facing the northeastern winds.

From the other side of the Foundry, Orion could see a stream of Dogs, no longer looking as emaciated as they had once been, running with packs full of ore on their backs. They would duck before rushing back out. They were not nearly as fast as the smiths but strangely ignored him and his party.

“Since when did they get all business-like?”

“You guys had a week and a half. There is no fucking way you got all this done in just that short amount of time!” He shouted over the din, walking out of the forge with the head smith, Godrick. True, Aviary had more than a thousand citizens if you took in all the outlying farms and hamlets with no name. That not including the Dogs themselves living in town, but all this had to be nearly impossible to get done in so short a time.

Right?

Around them was a gaggle of other villagers. Orion had no head to learn or remember their names, all pointing at some such thing they had done or that they had helped in this section, excitedly babbling at the pony. All while simultaneously clapping each other on the back at the same time.

It was all a whirl for the human-turned-horse, and he was having trouble finding his equilibrium.

“Hah! The colt thinks we can't follow simple directions, ya’d think he never seen working Griffs and Dogs before!” A round of chuckles broke through, temporarily stemming the tide of conversation.

“Well, no, I haven't.” He admitted with a grimace. “But this,” he gestured to the houses and town wall, which in most places was beginning to have walkways built in the side of it that the gate had, “is way too much for the amount of time.” He turned to the head smith. “How?!”

Godrick’s face took on a speculative look. He nodded thoughtfully.

“Colt. For years, we've just been getting by. Our little town was once a city, though you wouldn't know it back when ya first arrived.” Patting Orion's shoulder, he smiled. “Ya lit a fire under our tail feathers. Reminded us what made us Aviary. Steel forged here had once been known as Windforged Steel. Now, with what you've provided, it literally is!” He chuckled. “Workers from all the little hamlets around got sent in once they heard the news.” Alarm flashed across his face, and the old drake smiled. “Don't you worry none. That ain't been told nothing they don't need to know. We all know better’n that!”

The colt thought over that for a moment. That didn't make any sense. Iron was just discovered in recent years to be in plenty here. How had they been a steel town before then?

“Wait, that doesn't make sense, you guys had a forge, true. But the area around us had yet to be developed with mines. How was this place a major smithing town?”

“Ah, true, we never really had much in the way of mines and such back then. The raw materials were shipped in, ya see?” The smith gave him a quizzical look. “Didn't ya bother to look at the history of the place before coming here?”

Orion paused, then gave a sheepish grin. No, he had not. He wanted somewhere remote and with enough room for the metal shop he had been planning, and Grace's lone province had provided him just that. The bonus of ground already broken for a smithy was just icing on his proverbial cake.

“No, I can't say that I did. I just wanted somewhere out of the way and not on anyone's mind to try my little experiment out.” He chuckled. “I just wanted something remote, ya know?”

“Aye. That makes sense, and I believe previous rulers thought the same thing. Mostly, I think, ‘cause they were afraid of you Equestrians.” He nodded gravely. “Back then, there was a lot of mistrust between our two peoples.”

“Yeah.” He muttered. “I think there is still a healthy amount of that left.”

“True, but you're a’right for a pone.” That was punctuated with a back slap and a round of chuckles from the others. “A’right, would you like to see them?” Godrick's smile was infectious as a grin broke out on his own.

“Judging by that smile, I'd say my participation is moot at this point, but yes. Where are they?”

The group, as one, practically dragged Orion around the Foundry. More specifically, the storage room that was built in connection to the larger workshop.

Taking a peek inside, the pony had to blink several times to adjust to the low light. Fully stepping inside the warehouse, he looked at the nearest rack and sighed in relief.

Reaching over, he picked up the steel ingot and scanned it immediately with his magic. The horn on his head provided better illumination as he noticed that the steel bars had the impression of a sigil upon them, yet not enough to understand what it meant.

The bar was real, though the quality he had worked with in Canterlot was better. Still carrying the metal, he stepped out and waved Godrick over.

“Hey, I noticed that while this is damn good, its quality is a bit low.” He said in hushed tones. The smith nodded gravely.

“Aye. That one is one of the first we cast.” Walking past and into the building, he soon reappeared with another, more pristine-looking ingot. “This came off the Airing Fields yesterday. We figured we could use the first castings for stuff ‘ere in the village.”

Orion took the proffered bar and looked it over. Noting the shine and the strange stamp. Embracing his magic once more, his thoughtful frown vanished, as his scan showed a significant drop in impurities.

“Now, this is more like it. I was worried I was going to come back and this all to be a shit storm.” He laughed with relief. “But I got a question for you. Two, actually.” Handing both pieces off to an apprentice who rushed back inside the warehouse, he addressed the master smith. “One, “Airing Fields”?”

“Ah, that comes from our forefathers and mothers. The Airing Fields are mostly for your typical drying of laundry or foodstuff we want to preserve for the winter. However, back in the day, when we were manufacturing steel like now, our predecessors took to casting at night and leaving the metal to cool in the morn near the cliffs.” He tapped his beak in the way all griffons seemed to. “If I member correctly, it was believed that the wind had magical properties that stuck to the steel or iron as they cooled.” The old bird grinned. “That's why we called it Windforged Steel.”

Orion opened his mouth to abject. Then he closed it. In this crazy magical world, it would not do well to just dismiss something like that. Considering magic did, in fact, propagate into everything and everyone, there may be something to the claim.

“Mind wasting one of the new ingots tonight to test that hypothesis?” He asked with a soothing smile.

“I don't see why not.” Godrick paused. “Not trusting the process?”

“It's not so much that, but understanding the effect. Such as, is it only the wind from here that works, or will you get different effects should you leave it in a forest to cool instead. What about in a cage?” He paused as the bird cat waved for him to stop.

“Easy, fledgling. Ya gonna make us do all of that? Just to figure out whether it works or not?”

Orion shrugged in response, already throwing a list of options to test theory against hard-learned facts.

“If there is a way to confirm that Windforged Steel is stronger than, say…heh, Woodforged Steel, wouldn't you wanna know? Maybe your ancestors were onto something and didn't know they could take it further.” He gestured to the Foundry. “By the look of things, the Iron Dogs have been keeping you well stocked. What's a little experimentation going to cost you?”

Scratching at his beak, the smith nodded. “Hmm. Ya just may have a point there.” His brow furrowed before he sighed and gave his own shrug. “I don't see the ‘arm. Let's do it in a couple of days once you and her Ladyship have settled in again. It'll give me time to set a schedule for it all.”

“Fair enough, and to backtrack to my other question, the hell is it that's stamped on the top of those bars?”

“Ah, Master Lonelycall thought it'd be a grand idea to, um…what's the word, ah! To serialize the merchandise. Make it easier to track what goes where.” He nodded with confidence as he gestured to the numbers below the emblem.

“And the imagery?” Orion pressed.

“Ah, that, I'm sorry, colt. But the image didn't come out quite right. We been working on making the stamper better. It's supposed to be a griffon wing and a unicorn's horn crossed over each other.”

The black pony's stomach dropped. “Yeah, I am gonna go out on a limb and say the horn is supposed to be mine. Right?”

“It is indeed. Hard to get them little squiggly lines you have etched into that thing right, though. Comes out looking like a sword or a…” He broke off with a wheezing laugh.

“Or a penis. Ya calling me a dickhead?”

Around him, those that hadn't wandered off while he was dithering over the details, griffons and dogs, burst out laughing. He shared in their mirth a bit. He kinda was if he thought about it.

“Still, leave it as a sword or a dick, I don't care. But no figuring out how to forge my bone on metal.” He raised his hands to forestall any protest. “If you remember, I'm not supposed to have any connection to this place other than I've been here. I think it'd be hard to explain it all away as a coincidence if these start circulating outside the country. Which we both know won't take long.” He grinned. “That steel you bunch made is just as good as Equestrian.”

“Might actually be better. I'll need a bar of our own to make sure, but there might be something to this Windforged Steel nonsense.” He would keep the composition of the steel memorized if he never got the chance while in the country.

Speaking of keeping a cover. Whatever went on while he was away, every buzzard and mutt knew who was really responsible for the changes that had begun in their little town. At this point all he could really do was damage control.

Fortunately, as Godrick has stated, those who came from the collection of farms outside the village didn't seem to know anything. He had noted the strange look he was getting from a lot of unfamiliar griffons, and now, with the reasoning, he was more at ease about it.

“Aye, I can see yer point. Even if I do think it's a shame.” Godrick really looked downtrodden about the whole thing.

“Eh, don't sweat it, dude.” He clapped the burly bird on the shoulder. “What's important is that my theories are proven facts now. From agriculture to smithing. Speaking of produce, how are the farms doing?”

“Ah, that would have to be addressed to Lord Barker.”

Orion blinked in shock, then smacked his forehead. “Oh yeah, duh. The Provisional Lord in place till the Council of Lords either approves or picks someone else.” Nodding, he continued. “If they're smart, they’ll leave the little guy in charge. His people love him, and they'll get more cooperation out of the Iron Dogs if they leave things be.”

“Aye, Gertrude is likely already telling her Ladyship that.” The smith confirmed, picking at something in his neck feathers and flicking it away. “But if ya want Ol' Barney, he would be out in the fields right about now. He's really taking his role seriously.”

“Huh, how about that? And all it took was a kick in the nuts and a sucker punch.” He grinned.

“Okay, I'll do that. You all have fun and put that schedule together.” With another pat on his back, Orion made his way away from the Foundry and towards the farms.

Noting the line of Iron Dogs waiting to offload their packs, he made a note to talk to them about minecarts and tracks later. Anything to make it a little easier for a people that had suffered so much.

Grace couldn't sit still. Night had finally fallen, but her body still hummed with energy despite the long day of travel and updates with the council.

“He did it!”

She wanted to kick her legs and scream! But she could not indulge in that fledgling act. No. It was unbecoming of her, and considering the promises she had made to herself and Orion, it would not do to break discipline now. There would be time for joy later.

Sitting at the long table, she allowed herself a smile as she watched others mill about in the mayor's manner in the hall, now turned into a meeting and dining hall, and feast on the bounty the large kitchen in the back had churned out.

Several cookfires had been built outside in the village clearing for Thorncrest's own soldiers to use. Everyone was celebrating their success.

Orion, the pony that had made this all possible, was sitting in a corner off near the Southside of the building, laughing uproariously and pounding on Barney Barker’s back so hard the little Dog nearly toppled off the chair. With mild disapproval, she noticed the mug of alcohol in his hand but dismissed it. It was not her business what he did with himself as long as he stayed safe from now on.

Seeing him as she did now still hurt, and it would seem he somehow, and most fortunate, picked up the message that they were beginning to grow apart—that they needed to, for her sake.

“And mares said stallions were dumb as rocks.”

Though it could have been from the tension between them. He might have been more aware of the change than others in his position would have been. Still, his time with her had come to an end, and the sooner the colt left, the sooner she could truly heal.

However, Grace couldn't afford to slip. Not now. Maintaining that wall, while painful, was necessary if she were to ever get over the heartbreak. Perhaps in time, she may reach out to him again. When she was older and wiser.

“I could really use Auntie’s advice right about now.” The royal hen lamented. “Speaking of advice. Where is Master Lonelycall?”

Since her arrival, she had not seen feather or fur of the secretary. In the excitement, she had not really noticed other than in passing. Yet, now, with the evening coming to a close, she was beginning to grow concerned.

The elders of the town had not seen him. Nor had Gertrude, for that matter. However, the older hen did mention that the thin drake was not eating right, or sleeping well for that matter.

As if summoned by thought alone, Eberhard Lonelycall stepped into the hall. The normal fastidious griffon looked worn and haggard, his coat of red and black unbuttoned completely, exposing the stained white linen shirt beneath. That was certainly out of character for the reedy secretary.

His gaze swept the room, but rather than pausing on her, it continued on before coming to a stop on Orion. Perhaps not out of place, considering it was her friend's knowledge that allowed her this chance to make Aviary into the prosperous town it once was. But, his face seemed to pale, if that was somehow possible.

Shaking his head, he re-scanned the room till his eyes fell on her. Rather than brighten, they looked haunted. As if he held terrible news.

Grace beckoned him over and politely shooed one of the more inebriated elders away. The old griff toddling off made her smile slightly before she fixed the absent secretary with a gentle look as he sat on the edge of the bench with her.

“Master Lonelycall, it looks like you haven't slept in days.” She forced a chuckle to take the sting out of her words but frowned when he simply shook his head.

“I'm afraid it's just the opposite. Forgive my appearance, but I unfortunately just rouse myself from my bed.” He paused, shaking his head again. “I have news. Yet I'm not sure how to tell you of it. It's….complicated, and I fear more conjecture than hard facts.” He lowered his voice. “However, I wish I was uncertain, my Lady.”

Grace was thoroughly confused and alarmed. His words seemed to be rambling, he was nervous but why was yet left to drift in the wind. It didn't help that he had licked his beak at least three times since he began speaking to her. The poor drake’s nerves were shot.

“However, I am certain…” he paused, cocking his head, “as certain as one can be without solid proof.” He muttered more to himself than her.

“Master Lonelycall. What is wrong?” The royal hen put as much comfort in her words as she possibly could. “What has you so out of sorts?”

“Well, my Lady,” he began before the bang of double doors halted him, and they both stared as one of the new soldiers came rushing in.

His armor was smoking, as were a few feathers. Had someone fallen into one of the cookfires?

“Marauders!” He cried, searching for her in the crowd. “Marauders are attempting to storm the town!”

The entire hall erupted into shouts of fear and anger. Villagers and odd duty soldiers bolted to their feet, both the latter and former looking slightly unsteady as they dashed out into the night. Hens gathered up chicks and, surprisingly, pups and ushered them out the back, making soothing noises that Grace could not hear.

Rising, she placed herself in front of the shaken guard, grabbing his shoulders firmly.

“You've trained for this. Uncle Bloodbeak has trained me for…whatever the problem is, panicking will not help anyone.” She took a breath and spoke in a calm but authoritative voice.

“Name and rank?”

“I-uh, Sergeant Blacktree, Ma'am!”

“Okay, Sergeant.” It was a conscious effort to use the old Griffaic, so she skipped the unneeded step in such a dire situation. “What is going on? Don't babble, only what I need to know.”

“Uh, okay.” Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply. “The warning almost came too late.” He gestured westward. “Bandits, best as we can tell they waited till full dark. Perhaps thinking they could catch us unaware. In-in either case, we managed to beat them off the wall. The gate still stands!” He said with conviction. “But not before suffering some casualties.”

How? More importantly, why now? Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Orion already moving, his horn blazing like a torch as he rushed into the darkness outside, glaring hatefully.

“Anything else?” Grace dreaded the answer. Before he left, she noticed her friend's eyes looking above, not straight ahead, above. What could that mean? The sound of something bursting above caused a new wave of screams to rip through the remaining gathered crowd.

“We…uh, we, I mean Commander Thorncrest, believes we are being besieged by unicorns, my Lady.”

“Why the fuck now!?” Orion shook his head as he redoubled his efforts to run as fast and as far away as he could from the hall.

This whole trip has been a disaster. It had its upsides, a lot of those. But every time he believed he had gotten out of all the trouble that was coming his way, some new bullshittery would rear its head and attempt to fuck him over.

A hollow thump drew his eyes skyward.

Before he had gotten ten paces, a massive fireball the size of a house lobbed over the wall, right toward where many of the griffons were taking refuge, the hall he just hoofed it from.

He, having no idea what the hell to do as nothing in school had taught him how to destroy fucking fireballs, decided that now was as good a time as any for an idea that had been kicking around in his skull since he shattered the nullstone ring that sunny afternoon.

It was a gamble, but even with all the enchantments and the two bands around his biceps, there was no way he could combat something forged by at least four unicorn mages. Nor did he even have an idea of just diverting the projectile away from its intended target. Anywhere it hit would be a disaster.

“It doesn't have to last long, so there are no containment issues to worry about there. The real trick is if I can actually hit the fucking thing.”

Looking about he spotted a dropped chunk of ore. He quickly diverted course and scooped it up. There was a shrill wine in the air, and Orion looked up to see that the ball of flame had reached its zenith and was now descending. Fast.

“I thought that shit was a movie trope!”

Going on gut rather than fully formed knowledge, the black colt built a messy matrix of convoluted math and spellcraft, channeling all of it into debris in his palm.

“Ow! Hot! HOT!” He screamed as he hurled the sudden overloading ordinance right toward the sphere of fire.

For a second, he believed it had failed. The larger boiling mass swallowed up his attempt at deflection as the stone met flame. It seemed his try at a defense had come to nothing.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMM!!!

The resulting explosion was a bit too close and unexpected. The blast wave knocked Orion clear off his still-running hooves and into a pile of wood scrap.

“Oh, fuck…me…” The black pony muttered, rubbing his head as he cracked his eyes and looked at the sky again.

The flaming ball of death was no more; the mayoral hall still stood, though a few scorch marks could be seen in the slim moonlight above.

“Okay, neat. It worked. Now what?”

“What in the fuck was that?!” Screeched Gilda, skidding to a halt beside him her wings kicking up enough dust to nearly blind him.

“I…uh…can explain. But I don't think we have the time for details.” He stumbled from the pile and blinked several times.

“Okay.” The hen's eyes fixed him to the spot. “Can you do it again?”

“Yeah, ah. Yeah, I can do that again.” He wiped his face with his hands. “But I need something that can hold a charge. Better than a rock, at least.” His eyes gazed for something more substantial to use. “Like a crystal or any precious gems of sufficient quality. Crystal would be best, though.”

Nodding, Gilda paused and then looked left to snag an Iron Dog who was wandering around aimlessly, dazed at the sudden turn for the worse like all the rest of them.

“YOU!” She bellowed. “Go get that leader of yours!” The Dog blinked at her dumbly. “NOW MUTT! OUR LIVES ARE AT STAKE HERE!” She roared, and with a yelp, the miner bolted off at a dead sprint toward the hills behind the town.

“It's still there!”

Everbloom snatched her fingers away from the scar that was quite literally carved into her neck and tried to focus her attention on the battle before her. Almost against her will, did her eyes drifted northward, where Drystan and his small force were waiting for the next phase of her plan.

This assignment, this contract, had been filled with missteps, enforced idleness, and trauma the likes she never believed she would ever witness or experience.

It was such a simple task. Go to Griffonia, pose as a mercenary captain with her own company, and do whatever is necessary to keep the griffons in poverty and obsolescence. That had been the order, such as it was for those who came before her.

The subjugation of Griffonia had been an ongoing project for nearly six hundred years, and the reason and purpose have been speculated on for nearly the same amount of time. However, through their efforts and those who had come before, the country now sat on the brink of collapse.

Or, rather, it did.

For the better part of twenty years, King Sigurd Bloodbeak had been slowly wrenching success out of the refuse that was his nation. Many among her peers were forced to admit it had been an impressive effort, considering they only began to notice the results in the last decade.

Thus, it had become paramount for her and her compatriots to operate simultaneously within the kingdom. They had to turn the tide.

Before, it was just one force used to exert pressure in the right locations to keep poverty as Griffonia’s chief export. Not every year, maybe once in a decade, as more subtle methods of control were employed within the various companies that sold to the stricken nation. But Bloodbeak had changed all that.

His guile was almost insidious. Behind that blunt-beaked visage was the mind of a shrewd leader who could count the numbers and bend them to his own purposes.

So, they had begun a new campaign against the griffons. One that needed to come from within their own ranks.

The Duchess Rosebreast had been instrumental, if difficult to control. The hen had her own ideas on how to bring down her king, and only upon several failures did she turn to outside sources for support.

After all, one could only use their own troops for so long till their betters grew wise to who the enemy was.

Assassination, a leader's ever-sharp tool that could often be a blade at both ends, ended up being the beginning.

Under the guise of the food riots years ago, Rosebreast struck out and snuffed the life out of two of her biggest opponents, the Lord and Lady Fairheart.

With swift political manipulation, their lands fell into her hands, and she quickly established her control, if not her authority, therein. That was when their leaders stepped in, having seen the opportunity for destabilization once again.

Through means, Everbloom did not herself know, her people had managed to trick the Duchess into not only using mercenaries from outside the land but their mercenaries in particular.

Only in small divisions or units to cause as much disruption as possible. In fact, the young mercenary captain was only the latest to be sent into these less-than-civil lands to add to the bubbling chaos.

Things were going well, and it looked like events were beginning to shift back in their favor. Then Grace Fairheart returned, and with her arrival, Rosebreast was forced to adapt—not so successfully.

The issue was the Right of Claim. In particular Grace's rights to her parents' former land. Not all agreed that it should be her's. However, some griffons of the ancient past held enough insight within them to plan for such an event. The Accords of Return. With those rules in place, the young noble merely had to prove that she could lead and not be a detriment to the rest of the nation. Without the King's interference or assistance.

The fact was, the hen was succeeding. If by the slimmest of margins. The cherry on the cake is the suspected rediscovery of steel now being manufactured in Aviary.

The knowledge that griffons might rise from the ashes again to produce their sun-blighted metal made everything worse.

So, new orders had been handed down to her. Kill the source and wipe out the knowledge. Again.

“I can't imagine what they would think if they learned that a colt was the reason behind it all.”

Orion Falls. Mockingly known as the “One That Got Away”, he had been an annoying buzz that flitted in and out of public scrutiny. Only a minor annoyance that had somehow managed to fall into the graces of the false Princess.

Now, he was poised to reestablish the very industry they had worked so hard to destroy and keep suppressed.

Not for the first time did Everbloom wish she could send a message, a letter, anything, to her superiors back home to let them know the danger he represented. But Drystan’s ever-watchful gaze was on her, and she held no doubt any message sent would be intercepted and he would learn of their true mission here.

“Ma'am!” A shout from an officer kitted out in ragged garments designed to hide the more sophisticated and durable armor beneath came rushing up with a hasty salute.

Turning her eyes away from the north, where the bastard that gifted the mark on her neck and who she hoped still sat where he was meant to be, she addressed the soldier.

“Speak.” The damage had been more than surface level. The claw in her throat had nicked something within her that now left a noticeable gruffness to her tone. No amount of magic could repair it in the field. She would need a specialist to regain the sonorous voice she once held.

“We believe we've located where he is in the village.”

Everbloom smiled. Priority one was killing the colt and destroying all he possessed. A close second was the hen. That was her mission, and she would accomplish it without fail.

But for her, there was one mark that ranked above both targets.

As she fingered the scar once more, she made herself a promise. By the night's end, Drystan would be joining the traitorous foal and his fellow country griffon in the grave.

“It is time. Let us sheer this weed from the garden, shall we?”

Sweat beaded on his forehead, clinging to the short fur there as he hunched over the fourth batch of crystals that had been placed in front of him.

“Okay, remember, these might only last twenty minutes. Use them if ya got ‘em.” Orion mumbled, his horn glowing as he worked the vibration spell into each of the irregular lumps of precious stones before him. Like with everything, practice certainly made perfect. By now, he could cast on dozens of gems at once, though the process was draining. “Use the slingshots. Don't try and throw the fuckin' things.” Leaning back, he wiped the moisture from his brow and pushed the pile forward into the waiting hands of one of Thorncrest's own soldiers. “And for fucks sake, pay attention to your surroundings! They almost got me last time!”

Orion Falls was currently sitting in a hole dug by several Iron Dogs, consistently casting the spell that had ripped apart the first fireball from earlier. The reason for his luxurious accommodations had been a necessity. About half an hour into the battle, a unicorn popped in out of nowhere to take a swipe at his head with a sword.

That had been eye-opening for the colt as he realized two things. His casting magic to intercept the attacking ponies' bombardment was giving his location away, and they were trying to kill him specifically.

The first time it had happened, he got a good look into the mare’s eyes as she narrowly missed his throat. She wasn't there to capture or distract. The bitch was fully intending to kill him as her eyes hardened upon seeing him the moment she had teleported in. That was the look of someone who knew who he was and wanted him dead, even at the cost of their own life.

Since then, it had been a cat-and-mouse game of hide and seek for the better part of two hours as he ran from hole to hole. Iron Dogs had been shoving satchels of crystals into his arms along the way, avoiding the worst of the bombardment.

Homes were in ruins. The small crop fields that had sprung up between those homes were craters blacked by magical fire. Fortunately, the majority of the population of griffons and dogs were hidden beneath the earth. In the tunnels Barney and his people had been digging out shortly after this chaos began.

It had been Grace's idea that girl had really come into her own as a leader, organizing the evacuation quickly once all this began.

But they all knew the crushing truth. They were trapped. To the south and southeast, there was nothing but ocean. To the north, there were cold mountains and forests. West, well, that was where the danger was bearing down upon them.

Trying their hand at flying along the cliffs would only work for the most healthy. The old and infirmed would be lost quickly. Not to mention, the Iron Dogs would be left to rot if they fled that way.

From what he had overheard as he prepared another patch of gems, two brave volunteers tried to get the word out of what was happening. One flying south to take advantage of the trade winds, the other in the opposite direction to hide among the trees and work their way across the range. Both had been taken out by either magic missiles or a volley of arrows.

The arrows had been alarming to Thorncrest and Grace, as that indicated another force not yet in play against them.

Ideas had been tossed about, like having the Iron Dogs dig several tunnels deep below the ground, and they all could escape that way. A solid idea, save for the fact that tunnel digging was slower than walking. Not by much, but there was no doubt the ponies would be upon them quickly once they realized where they went.

When Orion pointed out that certain scan spells were available to the enemy to detect them, the idea was abandoned.

The warrens' lack of a larder also meant they couldn't simply hole up deep underground and wait it out.

That and the Lonelycall had been certain that they could simply pound the dirt above and collapse the whole damn thing on top of them.

Eberhard Lonelycall.

The drake bothered the colt something fierce. Every now and then, he would catch the bird-cat staring at him, an unreadable look in his eyes before he quickly diverted his attention away again.

Paranoia said the griffon knew something about the black pony himself, but for the life of him, he couldn't tell what. In this high-stress situation, thinking of what was secondary to survival was difficult.

“Yeah, yeah. I got it, hatchling.” A gruff soldier by the name of Farsight huffed as he carefully dumped the gems into his bag. “They are gonna move you soon. So, no more for now. Take a breather.”

Orion nodded. Grateful for a chance at rest. Making three hundred at a time was taxing his mana to an extreme degree, and pastries' high sugar, high carb diet could only help along so much. His body needed time to digest the confections, and those treats were running really low as it was.

“They should have enough for a while.” While the gems did not last long, the urgency with which they were used meant that there was no waste.

The good news was clear by the noticeable decrease in magical attacks. Judging by the increase in mundane assaults against the walls and the decrease in fireballs and missiles in the sky, it was safe to say that the enemy was beginning to tire.

Orion closed his eyes and breathed deeply. All he could do now was rest up and pray. Pray that somehow, someway, they could survive this.

Drystan wrenched the blade free with little effort as the guard on the wall toppled backward and into the bushes below.

“Convenient.” He thought, a rueful smile bending his beak.

In all honesty, he was bored, even though this phase of the plan now allowed him to push into the village proper.

Allowing the slim moonlight to glance off the edge of the blackened blade, he signaled his force to move forward silently, over the wall.

It was not yet time for them. Not just yet. They must first get into position before they begin hunting for the book and the pony who held it.

“Buck!” Shouted Everbloom, slamming both her fists into the makeshift table set before her. “Why in Tartarus are we not past that bucking wall!?”

This night seemed to only stretch on for the white mare. The initial bombardment had been mostly successful, save for some interceptions nopony could understand yet. Homes were aflame. Crops ruined. Things were going well. Even the wall of grey timber had been starting to give out when those interceptions began to increase exponentially.

It started with the fireballs. Suddenly, bursting apart far above the town, casting her forces in stark relief in the night.

Then, the more localized spells, such as the Flame Ictas, that had been used to try to burn the wood to ash started to backfire, killing their users in the process.

Now, a new development.

Unicorns were being pulled off the field after being struck by some type of crystal lodged in their flesh.

From what could be understood, the gems had some type of latent magical charge that seemed to vary from one to another. Nopony could figure out their function, but the purpose was in the effect.

All reported searing pain and the loss of casting ability, at least those who were still conscious.

Whatever the spell had been, the magical charge pointed to only one source.

“That bucking colt!”

The first few interceptions had been by chance alone, and while not what they had been looking for, they still pointed their way to him. But as the night wore on, he was proving difficult to track and kill, judging by the continued defense of the walls and town.

“I should have argued harder for at least a few artillery mages.” Those would have won them the battle outright, as a barrage of concentrated pure magic at the walls would have reduced them to splinters, allowing her forces access easily inside. They would have saved a lot of their own lives that way and, more importantly, time.

As things stood now, she was down to nearly half of what she had brought with her. And those still standing were beginning to tire.

“Ma'am!” The familiar voice of the lieutenant who had been carrying out her orders made her cringe. She did not want another problem to deal with, as it seemed all the mare had to bring her lately.

“Speak.” She said wearily, her hands unfurling to steady herself on the table.

“Drystan has breached their walls. We believe he is getting into position now.”

“Is it really that time already?” The battle must have been going on longer than she had thought. Phase two, which was more of a fallback plan than any real option, had been to use Rosebreast's forces to infiltrate from the north, wait, and then spring into action as soon as her own pushed the walls hard enough to draw the defense's attention.

It was simple, effective, and not something she believed they would have had to use. Everbloom had been so confident in her own force that she had only agreed to the birdbrain’s idea to placate him.

“Good.” It was best to appear in control. Of herself and the situation at hand. “It is time to push the walls.” She strode past the lieutenant, intending to give the orders herself.

They already knew where Orion Falls was inside the town. Their scryers had located him beneath a shallow mound of earth deep inside the village and had been biding their time for the Second Phase.

It was time she showed him the creativity of a true pony.

“Orion?” Someone shook his arm, and he blinked groggily awake. His neck hurt, as well as his back. Which was likely going to be a given as he fell asleep in his chair against the rock-infested dirt wall.

Before him were the half-eaten pastries that likely fell from his lap some time ago.

“How…kaff…how long was I out?” His mouth was dry, and his eyes lit up when Gilda handed him a flask with water inside.

“A little over an hour. We wanted to let you rest.”
She said, worry creasing her features.

“An hour?! More?!”

Panic seized him as he gripped the leather water container in fear. With the events outpacing his ability to think beyond the next move, he had little time to dwell on what exactly was happening. Now, waking up from a nap that had taken far too long, his heart was seized by fear, which washed away his ability to reason—to think at all.

Something must have shown on his face because the Sergeant hunched down and pressed her head against his own.

“Breath, soldier. You're okay. We're okay.” She said soothingly. “We haven't won yet, but you are safe.”

Her tone and presence, more than her words, slowly broke into his mind. His labored breaths began to slow, and his heart began to ease its attempt to burst from his chest.

“That's it. Nice and slow. In and out.” Her words, once muffled, now became clear to him. “Now, drink some water. Slowly now.”

Numbly, he found that the water skin had been taken from his hands, and the nozzle had been placed at his lips. Lukewarm fluid poured into his mouth and down his throat, carrying with it the faint taste of curing that the bag had undergone sometime ago.

After a moment, the liquid relented, and the bag was taken away.

“How do you feel?” Gilda asked softly.

“Like shit.” He whispered back. Both of them chuckled at that. “No…I-I feel…better. Thanks, Gilda.” Orion muttered, taking another deep breath to let it out slowly.

“Good. Once you're steady, it'll be time for us to move. From what Master Lonelycall has told us, those ponies are eventually gonna find this place. We're gonna need to move quickly.

The black colt nodded and glanced around. The latest hole they had dug for him had been connected to a tunnel, allowing the passage of the wounded to safer parts of the Iron Dogs warrens to be treated and rest. Thorncrest had also chosen to make this location his command post. But now the griffon commander and his command staff were nowhere in sight, and those few soldiers still there milled about, picking up equipment and moving toward the entrance.

“They must have left before I woke up.”

Turning, he regarded his impromptu bodyguard with a smile. Since the second assassination attempt, Gilda had pulled his furry butt cheeks from the proverbial fire more than once, avoiding arrows and killers in the dark alike.

He did help, however. Being the only one to sense magical surges nearby, he kept his head on a swivel and the blade from his throat.

“Soldier, huh?” He started to chuckle, but her eyes stopped the mirth in his throat.

“Orion, if not for you, we would not have been able to hold out as long as we have. Those fuckin' ponies would have overwhelmed us by now.” Her voice betrayed nothing. But her eyes shimmered slightly. “The people of this village are still alive because you stepped up and did what you could.”

“Hey, I just panicked my way-”

“No. No deflecting from you. Orion, you put aside fear and worked with us to save lives.” She interrupted sternly. Others had stopped to look at him. Their nods of approval mirrored one another. One even raised a fist at him. “As far as I'm concerned, you've earned the right. You've done a good and just thing here.”

“I…uh…” He fumbled, unsure of what to say. He had never been good at receiving honest praise. In school his academic achievements had been dismissed by simply responding with, “I memorize words good”.

Here, Gilda and her fellow soldiers were not allowing him that luxury. All eyes were fixed on him with a firm and confident stare. Something in his chest surged; it was almost painful.

“Now, off your ass, pone. We've-”

Orion’s head snapped up as a surge of magical energy echoed in the middle of the room. The expected pony assassin did not appear.

Instead, a gem broke into reality. A gem with a fireball spell packed into as clear as day to his eyes.

“OH, SHIII-”