Author's Note

Good morning everyone!

This is it.

The final chapter. At least for this Arc. I will be continuing on with the next Arc in the story. I've got 3 chapters done so far, but it's shaping up to be the end of the summer drop instead of a month or two from now. It's the summer so folks are buying beer like its a spending spree.

Now, onto the questions I've gotten!

Undead Lunar has 2:
Will Orion visit the Hippogriffs in the future?
Yes, though I have yet to determine how long and for what reason. Part of the decision making is using the dice, but I have to create the options for those dice to make use of.
Why does Twilight not learn artificer?
Ah, the simple answer is, she can. Twilight Sparkle is more than capable of mastering the Artification skill set. The longer response is she may never learn during this story, but after everything is said and done. Someone still has to be able to teach her, and for obvious reasons Orion won't be willing to do so.

Hope that helps Lunar, thanks for the questions.

SCIENTIFIC NUTJOB asks:
Will Orion play some more pranks in the future?
Do fish have gills? Heh, of course our boy will have more shenanigans in the future. It's in his nature to be a bit of a Bastard.

Evilhero asks:
Will Fractured Pasts be redone too?
Yes. Partly because so much has already changed for this rewrite, it would be pretty confusing if I did one and not the other. Thankfully, I won't have to do too much. But yet, all of its getting a rewrite. Oh, and a new cover too!

Forest Spirit asks:
Will Orion learn Dark/Black Magic?
Yes. A lot of the spells and enchantments he will be employing down the line will require knowledge of these more forbidden and unknown techniques.

Cris asks:
Recent chapters got me thinking about the timeline here. So Orion is really just 15 around the Griffonstone arc. So during the whole Ponyville teaching part, he was just teaching other kids his age or much younger?
Yes, he was teaching those somewhat older than he, and around the same age. The difference between him and them is education. Back in the day, rural children got taught the basics while the more suburban and city dwelling got instructed in more detailed courses. It was simple logistics and resources. City hubs just had more knowledge available. Thus Orion held a higher level of education over them. But he was more of a teacher's aid then a teacher himself.

Hope that cleared some stuff up for you.

Sunkiller asks:
Whoa! Where did the book go?
Hopefully you figured it out, but for everyone else its because sometimes FimFiction resets our preferences. Because this is a mature story, it gets stuck behind a filter.

Again, thank you all for having so much patience with me. I know I say it a lot, but I really appreciate you sticking around. That being said I'll stop taking up scroll space and let you get at the story. Thank you for reading!!

Peace!

Homeward Bound

Pop

He winced at the sound echoing in the still darkness.

“You are getting old, Eber.” He muttered as he rubbed his knee, ignoring the slight burn in the joint and continuing his journey up the spiral stone steps. He wished for what felt like the hundredth time he had allowed himself a light to guide his journey up.

The new ache, a new reminder of his age and how he shouldn't be tramping up what felt like a league of stairs. However, the pain was oddly welcome.

The spiral steps he had been navigating in the dark were purposely long. Forgotten by the majority of the castle staff.

By most, but not all, and certainly not him, it was his job to know these things. Little hidden secrets forgotten by everyone.

Pausing again, he adjusted the straps on his parcel that had slipped below his waist again. His tail feathers would never be right again. The rough leather had begun to dig a little too deeply into them for his liking.

A tentative sniff, and he resumed waking.

Orion had assured him that the contents would not be disturbed, leaked, or smell during transit. The temporary spell would last up to six months before needing to be recast or replacing the crystal sunken into the top of the lid.

Neither of which would be available to him, but that didn't matter. What mattered was getting to his destination without delay.

Though, those assurances did not leave him with the greatest comfort. Pushing on, the reedy griffon thought of the pony who had done so much for his people. Who nearly paid a terrible price for such kindness. By his own hand, no less.

Before he left the town of Aviary, it had been decided that Orion Falls would be traveling southwest. Both he and Grace Fairheart had to remain unaccounted for in terms of national awareness. Such deception was, unfortunately necessary, considering the assault on the village and the revelation of Drystan. Keeping Rosebreast off their trail and in the dark about what details occurred that night was considered paramount.

The colt raised no objections, looking tired and worn before their mutual departure. Considering what had transpired, everyone could understand his sudden, withdrawn nature.

Once Lady Fairheart delivers him to the train station in Grapple, she would immediately be diverting back to Neighbon to await instructions from her Uncle. The prospect of returning to that town was souring, to say the least.

She would not be eager to sit amongst them if what he had heard about their trip and the Watchers there were true.

That brought his thoughts back to himself. Eberhard had not been happy with the idea of being separated from his young charge, but he had to concede to the point she had raised.

Of all the soldiers and staff she had at hand, only he knew how to get to King without being noticed or seen.

“Perhaps I should finally take on an apprentice…” If it would spare his knees unnecessary abuse, he would strongly consider it. Another little pop echoed into the darkness.

The final step up came as all others did, his hesitant paw tracing out the platform before pulling his frame forward: thirty-three thousand two hundred and twelve steps. The number itself held no real significance outside of how many steps there actually were. However, when one has to traverse the darkness like this, it is key to knowing how far he has come.

The landings had been a welcome reprieve but one he rarely took as time was still of the essence.

Stepping forward and turning left by memory alone, he pushed gently on the wall to determine if it was locked or not.

The wall gave way for him easily, and he pressed his shoulder to the flat surface and shoved, grateful to see the soft light of dawn breaking through.

Unfortunately, his journey the rest of the way into the waiting chambers was halted by the tip of a spear stopping just short of his eye.

“My apologies, Lady Gabriella.” He had expected something like this, considering the fact that he was technically sneaking into their bedchambers at the crack of dawn. Perhaps the weapon was a bit too close to his face, but he was not in a position to complain to his Queen.

“Master Lonelycall.” Gabriella Fairheart spoke evenly, but he could still hear the bite in his name. There she stood in a rather thin gusset nightgown of ivory and little else. “Can you tell me why you chose to use the evacuation staircase?”

“Again, I do apologize for this unseemly intrusion, my Lady.” He gave a thin smile as he shifted the weight of his package about his shoulders. “Unfortunately, the nature of my visit and the events that proceed with it have forced my hand in this regard, as our enemies should not be made aware that I have even arrived at the castle this morn.”

Gabriella sniffed, wrinkled her nose, and placed the end of the weapon she bore on the carved stone floor. “It must be fairly important to risk death.” She huffed. “Or to smell like it. I mean, honestly, why do you smell as if you haven’t seen the inside of a bath in a month?”

“Ah.” Shuffling, he unloaded his package onto the floor and leaned back, hands on his hips. Several resounding pops were accompanied by a groan of satisfaction. He chuckled at her raised eyebrow, hands falling to his sides. “That might be due to the fact that for the past week, I have been, as the young might say, roughing it. I fear I have spent more time in the forests this year than I have in my entire life.” He surreptitiously took his own sample of his scent and restrained his disgust. “Considering the reason I am here, including arriving by the aforementioned staircase, I think my unfortunate odor is more than worth it.”

“Yes.” She said, brow furrowing. “I suspect. Do you have any information you want my husband to hear of it, too? Or will this be between us?”

“I am afraid it is very important that both of you must hear this news. I should also remind you with fervent hope that my being here should not be known by anyone other than you and King Bloodbeak.”

“Fine.” She relented, finally walking away and placing the spear on the rack by the door. “But if you must remain in our rooms, I will demand you use the washroom to clean yourself up. You are not in the woods any longer, and I refuse to allow that,” she gestured vaguely at him, “stench to linger where I change.”

“Thank you, my Lady.” He bowed, but she had already left the room.

Sighing wistfully, he made his way into the washroom on the right. He could only pray that there would come a day when tensions between them could finally come to an end.

“Eberhard. While I am happy to see you, I am more interested in knowing why you are here and, more importantly, where my niece is and why you are not with her.” Sigurd was not being mean, but Eberhard easily recognized the stress in his Lord’s tone. His storming in like the Northwind only seemed to enunciate his agitation as he unceremoniously sat down in a huff.

Tightening the belt of the robe a bit more firmly, Eberhard bowed low.

“Your niece is safe and sound, your Majesty. By now, she must have arrived in Grapple, and she shall soon depart to Neighbon to await your missives.”

“And why is she in Grapple?” Gabriella said, coming up beside her husband with a goblet of spice wine if his sense of smell did not fail him. “If memory serves me correctly, that city is little more than a fluffed-up village.”

“That would be because she is seeing the young Master Falls off.” He raised his hands to forestall further questions, and he continued. “Let me first tell you what has occurred and, more importantly, why I’ve come alone.”

Sigurd tried very hard to keep his mouth from falling open.

Aviary attacked in the night. The near assassination of not only his niece but her guest as well. And the worst offense, Margarette Rosebreast, was at the center of the attempted subversion of Grace Fairheart’s rule in a town she had utmost authority in.

His wife, unfortunately, did not share his restraint.

“THAT WHORE MUST DIE!” She shrieked, and not for the first time. He was glad of their residence in the castle being largely isolated from the rest of the keep.

“Still, I shall have to have words with the guards outside to say nothing of what they may hear today.”

“In this, my Lady, I will agree with you wholeheartedly.” Eberhard smoothly said, as if he didn’t just bring them the most disturbing news to date. “However, I must encourage caution. Marga-”

“Do not dare speak that puffed-up pigeon’s name!” Gabriella snapped. She almost jerked herself away when Sigurd placed a hand on her arm but allowed him to pull her firmly into his lap.

Such displays were often hidden from others' eyesight, but he needed to calm her quickly. His Bride had a fiery temper that, if not doused quickly, could linger for days on end.

“My Fire, I am just as upset as you are. But please, calm yourself. Grace is safe. Aviary, for good or ill, will recover.”

“Ah, yes. With the supplies Master Falls has supplied, they shall make it through the coming winter.” His old friend tried to helpfully provide. He snorted in amusement. “The stalwart citizens are already rallying and rebuilding their homes and farmland. With the help of the Iron Dogs, I have no doubt they will more than survive.”

“That,” the King of Griffonia pointed, “is something I’m not so certain I am comfortable with.” He is more concerned with attempting to sell the idea of a race, regarded largely by the griffon public as savages, living and providing service to the people than any real personal issue.

“I understand your concern. However, Sire, I have seen their proclivity for mining and farming. With the advice the pony has provided, they have taken that talent to impressive new heights.” He coughed into his hand, but Sigurd spotted the ghost of a smile there. “Before the attack, the idea of tracks and carts were being discussed at length." The reedy secretary drake bobbed his head. “I am in agreement with Lady Fairheart’s assessment that they will more than earn their keep.”

Sigurd hummed in thought at that, tapping his beak.

“If that is true, perhaps that can be expanded upon to include more than just iron ore.” The recent discovery of gold in the Foothills of Radius could be rapidly dug up with little danger to the lives of common griffs.

Sure, some worker guilds might feel slighted, but putting them to work on other projects that could be bought with that resource would more than salve a few twinged feathers, however.

“What is in the box?” Gabriella’s sudden question pulled him from his thoughts. Upon seeing the unwieldy backpack sitting so out of place with its plain features in an otherwise opulent sitting room, he had been confused. But his need to know his niece's situation had pushed that out of his mind at the time and his musings on the Diamond Dogs were now paramount.

“Ah, that leads to the second reason why I have come.” His old friend dragged the crate over and pointed at the crystal set within the top of the box.

Like the container itself, the gem was unremarkable save for the fact that it had been placed just so in the center of the lid.

“Orion Falls had a hand in preparing this for my journey. Within is the culmination of what we have learned of…the Duchess’s plans and involvement in shaping the future of our nation.” Placing a hand on the top, he paused and gave Sigurd a meaningful look. “It was lucky that the ponies who facilitated the attack left much of their correspondence and orders, along with what was found in Lotti Eagleheart’s own missives between her and…the Duchess.” He cast a sidelong glance at the Queen, but when she remained silent, he continued on. “Also, the orders were given to Drystan, her direct servant.”

Sigurd jerked up, eyes widening.

“What?!”

“I’m afraid I left out a few key details. Those are important; however, they are tied to another issue that must be discussed shortly. Please, your Majesty.” The King of Griffonia nodded. If Eberhard was being selective of his telling, there had to be a reason. A steady hand on his wife kept her from an outburst as well. Though, the sheer amount of bristle her feathers were doing to his bare chest was beginning to get uncomfortable.

“Why do you have orders for Drystan in this box?”

“That would be because he was also at the battle.” This time, he could not keep his beak from flopping open. He goggled at his friend, and his wife must have equally shared his shock because Eberhard chuckled. “Apparently, he was sent to keep the mercenaries in line and to keep them from capitalizing on any gains they might have found there.” Nodding, he frowned. “Also to also achieve the goals of his Mistress, which was the death of both your niece and her guest and the theft of the notebook the latter carried with them.”

Both rulers looked at each other, their aghast and incensed faces only spurring on the others’ outrage. Turning back, he gestured to his old friend to continue, not trusting himself to speak.

“Of course, as you are now no doubt aware, that has failed.” He broke open the crate with an audible click and removed the lid. Inside sat a bundle of heavy cloth soaked red at the bottom, and several bundles of leather were filled with parchment, and one was not. The smell of iron and copper filled the room.

“Is that..?” His bride asked hesitantly.

Rather than answer her, he lifted the blood-soaked bundle and unwrapped it to reveal the severed head of Drystan himself. A gasp ripped its way from her beak.

Sigurd stared, digust plastered on his beak. Gabriella was less so. She went from being aghast, to giggling.

“You managed to kill him?” She asked half scandalized and sounding very close to admiring the old drake.

“Ah, no. That accomplishment belongs to Master Falls himself.”

King Sigurd Bloodbeak found his eyes snapped to his old friend. Shock no longer claimed him. It was now outright disbelief as he stood. Nearly depositing his Queen on the floor.

“The PONY killed Drystan?!”

“From what I have been told, Orion Falls was left with little choice. It was either slaying his assassin or succumbing to his blade.”

Eberhard was getting nervous, though he did not yet struggle to hide it. He was getting dangerously close to the dilemma that had left him conflicted, though he knew his ultimate decision was the right course.

So far, his King had taken to the news as expected. Informing husband and wife of how the hated servant of Rosebreast had died had left both in equal parts stunned silence and raucous laughter.

“Done in by a fledgling!” Cackled his friend. “Skewered like a gordat on a spit!”

“Well, not without great cost, Sire.” He admonished gently.

“What do you mean, Master Lonelycall.” Gabriella must have noticed something in his face, for her mirth had faded away quickly, replaced by worry.

“A great sacrifice had been given in order for Orion to have the chance. Sergeant Gilda Broadwing sacrificed her life to provide an avenue of escape. Her attack had ripped open the scale mail he wore enough for the pony to spear him with that beam of wood.” He shrugged uncomfortably, remembering the Equestrian’s face as he wept over the soldier.

The old griffon had his own sorrows; if there had ever been a griffon he would have brought in as his apprentice, it would have been Gilda.

All parties in the lavish sitting room fell quiet. Losing troops was par for the course of monarchs the world over. Soldiers were expected to be able to give their lives for the security of the land and people at a moment's notice.

However, the young Sergeant's sacrifice was great, as she not only preserved a life but also achieved notoriety and honor in doing so.

“I…I shall have…” Sigurd stalled, and Eberhard understood. What could he do to pay homage to one such as her? She had no family, not even a husband. The hen had been devoted to her work and had done her duty tirelessly since the day the old drake had found her.

“Has she…been sent off?” Gabriella asked gently, her hand now squeezing her husband's.

“Yes,” Eber said sadly. “Orion himself helped send off all those that fell, but I think her death hit him the hardest. She had made it a personal request that he perform the Burning.”

Pyres burned brightly in the semi-dark of the coming night. Despite the soft downpour of rain, they remained undiminished. The magically induced fire did have its usage, he supposed.

All but one burned, the last and arguably the most important. Orion Falls, his black clothes soaked to his fur and skin, stood over the final altar. Gilda Broadwing's shrouded corpse lay among carefully placed bundles of wood; his face pained in a way he had never seen before.

Rage, sorrow, fear, and a profound look of loss warred for purchase there. One never lasting more than a moment before a new one shoved its way to the surface. The turmoil that must have been going through his mind was echoed in many others.

The hesitancy as the pony stood there was clear to everyone. More than a few looked to be sharing tears of their own as they looked on to the worn and tired pony that had nearly died doing the impossible for them.

It was Grace who had finally stepped forward and stood next to him. She did not appear to say anything, and all watched as the pony's shoulders silently shook. After a few more moments, his horn came to life again, and a single ball of flame erupted in the center of the pyre, sending Gilda Broadwing to soar once more.

“I suppose, now, I should tell you the final details.” By this time, he should be on a train and well on his way outside the kingdom if he planned it right. Eberhard schooled his face to absolute serenity. If he should be put to death for his choice, he would not only understand but accept it.

Sigurd and Gabriella looked at him quizzically. After shooting another quick glance at one another, the King nodded to his bride.

“Master Lonelycall.” She began. “There is something else you have not told us?”

“Yes, your Majesty.” His head bobbed in affirmation. “I feared that if I came out with this final piece of news first, all the other information I had for you would be overshadowed by the revelation.”

“My friend, I do not appreciate being manipulated.” Despite the years of friendship, Sigurd Bloodbeak was his King, and his duty was to inform him of everything. And while this might not be manipulation, it was close enough.

“No, Sire. Not a manipulation, but a need to have everything else in perspective so you did not make any rash decisions.” He replied.

“That sounds a lot like manipulation, Master Lonelycall.” Eberhard had to nod in concession.

“I suppose it was.”

“What is it?”

“Dorothea had indeed been correct in her assessment of Orion Falls. The pony is an enchanter.”

That little bit of news had a monumental effect on both rulers.

“He is what?!” The subdued hiss of words bellied Sigurd, bounding to his paws, fury exploding on his face.

Not to be outdone, Gabriella also stood, though the sudden appearance of the knife in her hand left Eberhard impressed. He had not seen where it had come from.

Raising both hands and keeping them there, he responded as calmly as he could.

“I never got direct confirmation, my Lord.” He placated, his master looming over him dangerously. “However, I am convinced the pony is indeed the one who repaired the Gate in Canterlot.”

“How do you know?” The Queen said through clenched beak.

“During the negotiations with the Iron Dogs' leader, Orion had been very insistent on having his jewelry returned to him. I noted that Barney Barker had a look of great reluctance in his sister's, Tilly Barker's, agreement with the pony.” He gestured with his hands, keeping them up. “After I had witnessed the results of the first casting of steel ingots, I remembered that observation.” In truth, he had never forgotten. It was the unfortunate case of priority that stalled him. The events of the negotiations and the reorganization of the town left him little time to pursue the issue further. “When I questioned him, he had stated that inside some of the items were gems and gold packed tightly away.”

“No…” Sigurd groaned, and Eberhard could only shrug.

When the first edict had gone out to kill every enchanter that hadn't yet vanished or ones that may come after, certain criteria had to be met in order for those unfortunate souls to become a target. Namely the items they may have created.

It was easy to tell the difference between the school of crystalmancy and the more complicated construction of enchanted objects; one need only see the steps involved. The understanding of those steps did not matter.

Crystalmancy required merely the gem and a spell. Both would need reworking when each deteriorated, and they always did.

Enchanting required a more robust and odd setup. It was believed that those builds, for lack of a better term, were important to not only the item's longevity but also the source in which the incantation imbued within pulled its power.

Every agent before him had been trained to look for these differences. The issue was that Orion's secretive nature left little opportunity for him to confirm before then.

“The book?” Gabrielle asked. While she wore anger, much like her husband, there was sorrow in her eyes. Sorrow for the pony? Hopefully.

“Unfortunately, no. That was lost when Orion Falls cleverly used it to burn Drystan when the drake attempted to take it from him. Apparently, since he had arrived in our nation, he had used crystalmancy to imbue a gem in the spine to explode if anyone other than him picked it up.” He suppressed a shudder, remembering he had picked up the book himself. He could have died that day.

However, the gem's slimness and the spell's nature required the pony to cast the spell every morning, so when he had picked it up, the gem had been fortunately uncharged.

“Clever,” Sigurd muttered. “He would rather lose all that information than be exposed.”

“I believe that to be the case, Sire. Though the one time I did possess the book, there was nothing in it I could find that would point him out.”

“And you did not kill him?” His King asked.

“No,” Eberhard answered simply.

“Why?” His Lord gestured with a hand for the secretary bird to drop his own.

“That…I'm afraid was the complication. My complication.” He rose and began pacing. Both leaders retook their seats, but Gabriella’s knife remained in her fist. “I hope you will forgive me, but I must detail my thoughts on this matter.”

“Take your time. Master Lonelycall.” Sigurd’s use of the title hurt, but it had not been unexpected.

“Thank you, Sire.” He said glumly. “When I first learned the truth of Orion Falls’s nature. I had been sent into a mental spiral. I knew my duty, as do all agents of Griffonia, but the pony's closeness with Grace Fairheart complicated things. She does not know the reason in which enchanters are put to death upon discovery. My attempt at ending him would have likely put me in direct opposition to her Ladyship.”

The Queen's grip on the hilt lessened, and she nodded consideringly at that.

“There was also the fact that the pony had done so much good for Aviary and our nation as a whole.” He coughed. “Already, Iron Dogs and Griffon are rebuilding with the memorized knowledge given. More fortunately, the Forges and the notes within were left untouched.”

“That's one good bit of news,” Gabrielle said not too harshly. “But stop stalling, Master Lonelycall. Why did you not kill him?”

“By the time of their return, I had resolved to end that young pony's life. Finding the time to inform her Ladyship of the why and how had become an issue.”

“The attack?”

“Yes, but also the sheer number of griffons who wanted her attention. I had not found an appropriate time to interject myself. When the attack came, I was in the middle of attempting to ask her to come outside so that I could explain the situation.”

“Would she have allowed it?” Gabrielle asked.

“That, your Majesty, was one of my fears. Ultimately, she had all authority in place of your leadership, and I would have found it difficult to go against her wishes.” He shrugged apologetically. “It was one of the few reservations I held.”

“Including, I'm assuming, whether it was the right choice or not,” Sigurd spoke, his eyes on the floor.

“Yes, unfortunately, I was still mentally wrestling with that as well.” He sighed. “But when the attack came, Orion Falls railed. Creating a solution to combat the bombardment of the unicorns brilliantly.” He shook his head. “I saw my opportunity when Drystan’s surprise assault separated Orion from Her Ladyship.”

“Yet, you did not take it.”

“No. I stood above him, my knife ready.” Miming the action, his hands seemed to mimic the hesitation all on their own. “I…could have easily blamed it on a final assassin. No one would have been the wiser.” He shook his head, his fingers fidgeting with the lapels of the robe he wore. “What I witnessed turned my heart away from what that would have been. Murder.”

Both monarchs once again regarded one another; a silent conversation in looks alone seemed to carry on. Finally, his King turned to him.

“What happened, Eber?” The change to such a familiar name caused a pang of relief in Eberhard. He had accepted death but was not eager for it.

“I witnessed a pony doing everything possible that he could do to save the life of a griffon. I…I am not sure if all unicorns can do it, but Orion seems to possess the ability to cast magic with not only his horn but his hands as well.” Both ruler's eyes widened at that. “Orion Falls, his horn smoking as much as the aura glowed, tried desperately to stitch Gilda Broadwing back together. The fact that he managed to bring her back to consciousness at all was a miracle in itself. Yet…” He paused, mouth open, trying to find the words. It seemed he had yet to fully deal with this pain. Gilda had become something of a daughter to him, and he felt her loss more keenly than he wanted to admit.

“There was nothing to be done.” Gabrielle finished gently.

“Yes.” Swallowing hard, he wiped unshed tears away. “He had often made the claim that his ability to heal was limited to a paper cut at best, bruises at worst.” He chuckled sadly. “That seems to be true.” Blinking back more tears, he went on. “In any case. His display of sacrifice, even to the point of damaging his own ability to use magic himself, altered my hand.” Looking up at his friend, his ruler, he sighed. “I could not do it, Sigurd. I could not kill someone who had risked so much for our people simply for the sake of setting things as he believed, right.”

With his piece said, he waited as those above him debated his actions. The idea of sitting now, awaiting judgment, was silly to him. Instead, he chose to straighten the borrowed robe as best he could, raising his head not in defiance but in respect for his liege.

Gabrielle Fairheart was the first to speak.

“I find it difficult…to dismiss your reasoning, Eberhard.” His eyes widened at the use of his first name. The fact that she had used it, well, it had never been done before. She snorted. “Master Lonelycall, my issue with you has always been because of your unyielding application of the rules. You were never one to deviate from what had been set down in stone for you.” She smirked. “That friction sprouted because our interests clashed, and you left me little room to maneuver or negotiate. To see you so…flagrantly defy your rules is a surprise.” The smirk turned into a broad smile. “A welcome one, to be sure.”

That was true. For all of Eberhard’s friendly demeanor, he had never diverged from his goals or the rules that marked them. He nodded, not yet saying anything.

Her statement said more. The surprise was one she happily found, even if her quickly returning brooding features did not yet show it.

“I'm uncomfortable with the fact we just allowed this pony to walk away untouched,” Sigurd spoke softly.

“I agree, my Kindling.” Gabrielle laid a hand on her husband's arm, squeezing gently. “These events, and what we know now, have me feeling like the net under me is about to give way.”

“Yet you agree?” He asked incredulously.

“I do. Master Lonelycall has made a very difficult, possibly nation-changing decision. Yet…” She paused, eyes going distant. “I…I find myself making the same choice had I been the one in the field. Despite what he is, maybe even because of who he is, that pony deserves life.”

The Sigurd didn't speak for a long moment. Neither his wife nor Eberhard spoke as he contemplated the news.

“I, too, find it…difficult,” he paused, shaking his head. “Over a thousand years that Edict has been in place by all nations that listened. Many had fallen at that time, but the need still stood. Enchanters are too dangerous. They can create devices that no one has ever seen or really understood.” He continued to shake his head as he spoke. Standing, the King walked to the large bay windows that looked out over the east side of his city.

Gabrielle gave her husband a wry look and addressed his back.

“No one has ever seen one of these feared devices, Kindling. For all we know, we have been continuing the tradition for its own sake.”

“Fire.” He said gently. “I agree that neither I nor my ancestors, a thousand years since, have seen those…machines.” Such a common word sounded so alien to Eberhard’s ears. “But, the records described a fleet of airships so beyond what currently dots the skies, in such detail, that I am reluctant to let this go.”

Eberhard Lonelycall nodded. He had seen the records of that time as well. The power those vessels had wielded was truly frightening, raining destruction from on high. According to those scrolls, the ships were known to be older than even the founding nations that had once made up Griffonia. Older than even the griffon people themselves.

Such longevity, such destructive force. It was hard to imagine, but the one constant in those very same reports was that without the knowledge of enchanters, they could not stay afloat for long. Hence, some time after the mages who maintained the equipment disappeared, Celestia had the fleet put into storage. Were they still capable of flight after all this time?

“If I may make a suggestion?” Gabrielle’s voice broke the silence that had enveloped them.

Turning, Sigurd regarded his wife suspiciously. “You may.”

“I propose we implement the same plan we used to find our niece. With some modifications, of course.”

He turned from his wife and warily assessed Eberhard before looking back at her. “What “modifications” are you suggesting?”

The train ride out of Griffonia had been uneventful. Grapple, a subdued village that seemed to only get by because of the tracks that ran through it and the business they brought, had not even stirred before he boarded for the long trek home.

The few workers on the platform paid them little mind as Grace bid him a tearful farewell, squeezing him so hard his eyeballs nearly popped out of his skull.

It was a similar goodbye that Aspen had given him, though her's came with a lick that stuck all the fur on the side of his face and mane straight up. It was very comical and managed to pull a chuckle from the downtrodden pony.

Barney had decided to give him a gift as well; fortunately, it wasn't a tongue bath.

Two pieces of Anthracite were placed in his hands. The shiny black material had a faint sheen of green when the sun struck it. That was a gift worth more than he could ever pay, and he had attempted to give it back.

Tilly had exclaimed loudly and proudly that he had earned it, all while sitting on her newly made wheelchair that he had a hand building before their departure.

A pang of guilt shot through him when he spied her permanent seating. From what the field docs, including his own scans, had said, she would never walk again. One of the fireballs that hit the ground sent out a shockwave that had thrown the tiny Dog right into a pile of large boulders that had been set aside to be broken down for foundations laying later. Her brother had found her shortly after and carried her into the tunnels below.

Another pin is on his All My Fault list. Still, he hoped they were all wrong.

Grace had not prolonged their farewells after the hug. Opting to give him a new leather-bound notebook and a kiss on his cheek in the fashion of griffons. Her beak rubbed tenderly and likely lingered longer than normal.

Then she turned and marched proudly off, her head held high and shoulders thrown back. The soldiers who had come with her fell into line after they gave him a quick bow.

That action paused the workers as they observed the odd parting and began whispering to one another.

Thorncrest gave him a bow. Clapping him on the shoulder, he placed the weapon firmly in his hands and nodded. Then, he followed after his liege swiftly.

From what she told him, she would be returning to Neighbon for the time being. With Drystan’s attack now over and done with, it was suggested she keep low and not say much till whatever Eberhard was planning came to fruition.

The people of Aviary, including the Iron Dogs, readily agreed to keep quiet as well.

They were all in once it was understood what might happen should word get out. They wanted that bitch to pay just as much as Grace Fairheart did, and eagerly set to working hard to rebuild their home from the devastation wrought by the unicorns’ attack.

With the supplies he had procured through Dorothea Von Hardwind it would get them through this rough patch. Enough of the crops had been salvaged that they would hopefully be able to plant for next year with little trouble.

Shockingly, the potato fields had gone completely untouched through the whole battle. But, considering the fact that they were placed on the other side of the warren, away from the fighting, perhaps not so stunning a surprise. Still a boon either way, and he really hoped they liked taters. Perhaps he should have written down some recipes for them.

As for the enemy unicorns that had attacked Aviary, only half-eaten bodies, or stoned corpses, remained, it took two days to collect them all and burn their remains unceremoniously.

A tiny needle of fear still sat in his heart. One or more might have managed to get away.

He could see Canterlot Mountain in the distance now. The towering snowy peak still shielded the city of its namesake from view, but seeing it through the window of the cab already meant he would have to face comeuppance when he arrived home.

He thumped his head against the wooden wall of his seat, earning him a startled look from an older mare dressed in traveler's clothes sitting across from him on the other side of the aisle.

“Man, I really don't want to go back there.” It wasn't the orphanage, with its revolving door of foals and prospective parents just hoping to find the right kid to nurture. Nor was it CSGU, mostly because the snobby brats he had once dealt with had wisely left him alone since the Veranda Incident. The only one at school that really bothered him was the gray filly whose name still escaped him. “Is it Daisy? No…Lazy? Yeah…Lazy something or other.” That one gave him the willies, and he avoided her like the plague.

No, it was really none of that. It was Celestia herself that worried him. Now that all the excitement was over with, the reality was setting in, and that said reality was that she likely already knew he had taken off and was pissed about it.

Any altercation between the pair was bound to descend into a shouting match, and he just didn't see the appeal in arguing with someone who could potentially go nova.

Not to mention, his own mind has taken a greater toil than he had ever experienced before. Save for perhaps his last days as a human.

“And there's no way out of this shit…” His head thumped into the wood board again.

All that was available to him was to return back to the orphanage and await her summons.

“Wait…” His lips quirked into a smile. “Yeah, perhaps?” He muttered out loud, drawing a look of irritation from the mare.

Ignoring her, he fished out some paper and an envelope and began writing feverishly. The smile turned into a grin as he looked the pony across from him over briefly.

“Oh yeah, she'll do.”

“Princess?” A careful knock on her study door drew her, thankfully, from a proposed tax system from the nobles in Parliament. There was more red ink from her hand on the parchment than black from their own original writing. How could they not understand that, to this day, that the tax hike they were proposing would break the middle-class pony near completely? It was ridiculous.

“Yes, Raven?” The mare stepped in, adjusting her latest business suit she wore, a navy blue with silver pinstripes, and placed a letter on the table before her.

Her secretary on duty today had become increasingly reliable in the past few years, and Celestia was strongly considering putting her at the forefront of her staff. A position that would be perfect for her analytical and organized mind.

Looking down at the letter, she noticed the distinctive handwriting with her name spelled boldly upon the sleeve.

“So.” She began her testiness with the paperwork in front of her, adding to her extreme irritation with the pony this missive was no doubt from. “He has returned.”

Without Shining Armor, it would seem. If the stallion had been with him, he would have dragged the colt kicking and screaming before her rather than have Orion’s poor address posted on the sleeve.

“Not exactly, your Highness,” Raven said matter of fact, placing one finger on the envelope and pushing it forward. “No pony has seen him yet, and a mare, one Willow Joy, brought this to the gates. He apparently paid her twenty bits to deliver the message.” She smiled thinly. “Gold bits, to be exact.”

“Gold?” Her eyebrows raised slightly. Bits came in three denominations. Copper, Silver, and, of course, Gold. It had been done like this so Equestrian coin would be accepted worldwide, as the exchange rate would only depend on weight rather than any pricing difference a Lady or Lord could impose. It made it very hard for her little ponies to be jilted should they need to pay for something out of the country.

“The same,” she thought, with an internal wicked grin, can not be said for other nations.”

“That is pricey.” She said noncommittally after a moment. Her secretary merely murmured her agreement.

Seeing no point in delaying whatever nonsense he had cooked up now, she split the envelope apart with a small application of magic and read.

“Dear Sun in the Sky,

“Yes, it is I, your favorite pony in all the land.”

She paused and snorted derisively. He couldn't be serious; even now, with his outrageous departure, he could not be serious for even a moment. Her eyes continued their journey across the page, a sarcastic smirk pulling at her lips.

“By now, you have likely learned I've been away for some time. Vacation: everyone needs one. Including you might I add, you should get out some.

“Anyway, if you're reading this and have not known the above statement. Well, surprise! I was gone!”

She placed the page down and stared straight ahead. The beginnings of a headache thumping at her temples.

“Your Highness?” Raven asked, concerned.

“Orion is being very…Orion.” That drew an amused chuckle from the normally serious mare. Celestia sighed long-sufferingly before returning to what was clearly becoming the longest excuse letter in history.

“But let's be honest, you already know. Okay, so here's the deal. I am in Equestria. Hurray. But I'm not really feeling like coming back to the city. It's not you, Princess, it's me. I need some more time away. At least a couple of days. With that in mind, I will inform you that I am heading to Ponyville. I picked up some souvenirs for a couple of friends down there, and I figured I'd just pop in and hand them over and spend some time with them, seeing how I've been out sightseeing all this time up in the great north.”

Taking another deep breath, she calmed herself. At least he was being forthcoming about his intentions this time, but did he really believe that she would allow him to remain away?

Apparently, yes, he did.

“I figure I got a fifty-fifty shot here. Either you let me come back on my own, or you send the guard to come scoop my happy ass up. Either way, I should have just enough time to give my friends their gifts before I'm pounced on by over-enthusiastic soldiers looking to get a bump for their promotion.

“So here is the big ask. I know you're likely as pissed as you can be. The term “Super Pissed” might be employed here. But what's another couple of days? I promise I am coming back. Just need a couple of more days to unwind before you smack me.

“Hope this letter finds you before you do me,

Orion”

Placing the letter down, she laid her head very slowly onto her desk and groaned.

“Shall I fetch the guard to hunt him down?” Raven asked. Celestia could hear the grim hopefulness in her tone.

The monarch thought long and hard about that. She should have him apprehended. But, despite his maturity in many things, he was but a foal.

“No.” She rebutted, dragging the word out a bit as she very carefully did not bang her head against the mahogany beneath her. “Damn it, no. He is in Equestria now. But it seems he skipped the Canterlonian stop and proceeded down to Ponyville.”

“Forgive me, your Highness. I do not understand. He is here. Why not order his immediate return to the city?”

“Because Orion Falls made a promise.” The ancient alicorn sat up and glanced over the page again. “When he makes a promise, he tends to keep it.” Placing the letter down, she addressed her secretary. “He will return in a few days. I'm betting a week if I know him and how he likes to stretch the limits of the letter. Have everything ready by then. If he returns early, still wait the full week before sending his summons.”

“I understand, your Highness. It shall be as you command.” Celestia smiled at that and gave a gracious nod.

She did like it when her staff took her words as literal orders meant to be carried out at a moment's notice. One of the few perks of the job is being waited on hand and hoof for her demands to be met with swift ease.

“Thank you, Raven. Is there anything else?”

“No, your Highness.” She paused and looked at the tax code before her. “Though, if it is allowed, I think I can guess the nature of those marks,” she gestured to the red ink, “and can extract the spirit of your arguments. Would you allow me to handle that?”

High Princess Celestia turned and looked upon her secretary in relief.

“Would you?”

“Of course, your Highness. Also, I'll have some tea brought up for you.”

The mare was definitely getting that promotion whether she wanted it or not.

Unfortunately, the Sun Monarch was not about to get away from all the paperwork. As Raven left with the disastrous tax bill, she looked at Griffonia's report with wariness. It looked rather slim.

“I would kill to know what happened to trigger a relic site to awaken.”

Everbloom dunked her head into the clear stream of water and drank greedily.

She had been running for what felt like days now and had not stopped for more than a few hours to get some rest.

Ripping herself away from the stream, she gasped and stumbled back before settling against a tree. Her breath labored as she tried to organize her thoughts.

“Three…no…five days.” The mare's eyes widened at the realization. She had been on the move since nearly joining her comrades in the belly of the beast. “A bucking Basilisk.” She moaned. “How under the Sun's Grace did they have a Basilisk just…on hand like that?!”

This line of questioning had plagued her since she had seen the thing.

When it dove toward her, she barely had time to shove her lieutenant in the way and run as the sound of her soldiers’ screams and the crunch of bone and stone filled her ears.

That was all she could do. Run.

Every time she stopped for but a moment, the noise, those sounds, would fill her head, and she would push on to move again. A stumbling, shambling jog that could be counted as little more than a speed walk by most pony standards.

Yet, on she pushed, moving further and further south.

“I passed a mountain range…yes?” She couldn't remember. Those sounds were returning. Making it difficult for her to collect her thoughts.

“Ti-time to go.” She muttered, trying to push herself up. Her left arm moved to brace against the trunk, and she bit back a moan.

Everbloom turned her arm towards her, noticing with renewed anguish that the shoulder and not much else remained. The limb was mostly stone now, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew that if it had not been, she might have bled out.

However, the forefront of her mind made her wail into the early afternoon. She clutched at it with her hand and cried anew for the loss of her arm.

“What pony is gonna want me now!”

Perhaps crying out was the right thing to do. She needed release. Needed to grieve. She had lost everything. Her command. Her soldiers. The arm was just the icing on top of a very rotted cake.

“He….hello?” A voice broke through her sobbing. Eyes widening, she glanced around, fear etching her features in what she was sure would be a permanent mask.

“Who…..w-whose there?!” Embracing what little magic she had left, she braced herself and slowly slid up the tree, the rough bark tearing at already threadbare clothes.

“Honey!” Came the voice again, a mare from the sound of it. “Over here! She sounds hurt!”

Over the hill line that sat on the other side of the stream Everbloom had taken rest at came an Earthpony mare.

The tall bronze-collared pony clad in travel clothes with a wavy yellow mane took one look at her and shrieked. “Violet! Mover yer keister, girl! She's hurt real bad!”

Another mare quickly followed the other, a Pegasi, mirroring her partner in clothing. The purple pony quickly hopped the creek and rushed to her side.

“By the tree, this is bad, Dew! She's missing an arm!”

Everbloom heard it all, the Earthpony coming to the side to begin stripping her clothes off, telling her it would be okay as they both exclaimed over the state of her missing limb. She felt them wrap her body, the cuts that she had received on her flight from terror, with cloth. Antiseptic splashing here and there in an attempt to combat the possible infections in her wounds.

She heard and saw it all.

Yet, she might as well have been a thousand leagues away.

“I'm…home…”

Tears streamed down her cheeks in an ever-increasing flood as two kindly mares took care of her wounds.