“Ahhhh…crap,” Orion muttered, settling himself back into the couch with a scoff.

He wasn't really getting better at curbing his language around the High Princess, but he liked to think he had improved somewhat. By now, he would have dropped at the very least eight F-bombs. The raised eyebrow at his dismay was uncalled for.

“There's more?” The black pony groaned, getting a flash of a rather strange imperious smile from the monarch before she returned to a neutral expression.

“Orion, do you really believe this has been the only issue that I have observed from you? Your departure to Griffonia, regardless of whether or not the law allows for such a thing, is only the tip of the troubles you have been causing.”

Celestia resumed her straight-backed position on the edge of the couch, pushing aside one envelope for another. This one bore his name in golden writing on the cover and edge of the faux leather. It was thick and heavy-looking. She flipped it open.

“Disciplinary reports from school.” She went on. “Noted interactions within the boundaries of Mrs. Evergarden's orphanage with impressionable young foals.” She began, flipping through the sheets within, stopping here and there to look at him as she jabbed a finger at various points of interest.

He, of course, defended himself.

“Hey, I'm a legend there!” He protested. “It gives the little ankle biters something to tell stories to one another and-”

A ghost of a smile flickered on her lips that caught him mid-sentence. “I am aware of the hidden away…lore…that involves you, Orion.” She paused, her gaze hardening as she looked up from his file. “Rudeness to nobility. Which in some circumstances I can understand, yet this includes your often blatant disregard for my position.” She tsked at him. “As of now, it seems no amount of Etiquette Class has been able to curb your almost zealot-like behavior for impropriety.”

“Ah…” He paused, unsure of what to say to all that. “Really?”

“Orion, even in this conversation, you have not spoken to me with the deference my station holds.” Diamonds couldn't compete on the Mohs Scale with how hard she glared at him with that last statement. “I now believe the issue lies within your environment.”

“Wait. Is she really going to toss me in jail?” Another thought flitted through his mind. “Or banish me to another city?”

Either option would be terrible, but at least he could handle the city transfer. A thought flickered in his mind.

“Mrs. E looked pretty upset about something before I left…oh shit. Could Sun Cheeks here have already begun what…whatever this is?”

There was another knock at the door, and her horn glowed, enveloping the door in her magic. However, she had yet to open it. Gazing into his eyes, she gave him an appraising look.

“I have taken great consideration in how to address these ongoing problems. I believe I have found a solution that will achieve my goals admirably without upsetting you too much and actually facilitate a better environment for you to mature in.”

His eyes widened in alarm. “BOOTCAMP?!” He blurted out.

Celestia cocked her head and nodded, the smile was back. “I had considered that as well, but no. I've found a much more structured solution to the issues that are…you.”

Her horn glowed brighter, and the door to the sitting room opened.

In stepped the familiar form of Raven Inkwell. The business suit she wore seemed to have been ironed onto her frame, and the severe set of her jaw looked like it could cut glass.

“You may enter, " she intoned once she had moved to the right behind the Princess and turned to the door.

The next to arrive were three ponies Orion had never seen before. Two mares and a stallion. All unicorns, all dressed to impress.

The soft yellow stallion that led the way, which was a surprise considering what he knew of cultural norms, was tall and wore a simple business suit. While not cheap in the slightest, the beige jacket paired well with the green slacks he wore. The undershirt was a simple white with no tie, leaving the collar unbuttoned at the neck. His sky-blue mane was equally as simple, brushed just enough to have order but otherwise left to hang loose over one side of his neck.

The mares that followed him, one green with a deeper blue mane done in a braid, and the other red with a purple and gold streaked mess that looked like she had just rolled out of bed.

Both wore equally simple beige dresses. On the hems of their outfits, little details of gold string stitching depicted what he could only guess was some type of wind pattern. The stallion’s suit didn’t share in those.

Another detail stood out. All three had grey eyes.

“Um…okay, uh…what's going on?” He asked, a sinking suspicion growing in his stomach.

“Orion, this is Clipper Line,” the High Princess pointed to the stallion, who nodded graciously to her. They all had bowed when entering, but now that they were being acknowledged, they each gave another heap of respect as she named them. “His first wife, Emerald Bowspirit.” The green one smiled slightly. “And lastly, Free Beam.” The purple one gave him an appraising, almost challenging look. “These are the Shipwrights.”

“Uh, hi.” He said nervously. Inside, his skin crawled.

“Do not tell me…”

“Clipper Line, ladies, this is Orion Falls. The colt we have been speaking about these last few weeks.”

“Thank you, your Highness,” Clipper said, his slightly gravelly voice making Orion take more notice of him. There was a scar on his neck near the base of the throat. The others chose not to speak yet but nodded their heads anyway.

The black pony remained silent, now almost certain what was happening and not liking it at all.

Taking the silence as his cue to break the ice, Clipper Line smiled. “Good afternoon, Orion. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Not so sure it is to make yours.” He replied slowly, shooting a look at Celestia. “Are you serious?”

The red mare, Free Beam, eyes widened in surprise. “Forgive me, your Highness.” She said, her voice surprisingly light with more than a hint of amusement sprinkled in. “I know you spoke of his…boldness before, but I must confess I only half believed you.”

“That is alright. Orion is…a special pony.” Celestia remarked dryly, earning a heated glare from the named individual in the room.

“You can't be serious.” He stated more firmly.

“This is not really a surprise, Free. Remember the papers? There's a nice exposé on him in the Canterlot Press done just last year.” Emerald finally spoke, mirth in her musical tone. “And then there is, of course, all that the Princess has told us about.”

“Hello? Talkin’ here.” He did not shout, but he was getting angry. They ignored him.

“I never imagined he would be so tall, though.” The green mare went on, touching the stallion’s arm. “Honey, I believe he has an inch or two on you!”

Clipper grinned. “Your Highness, forgive me for asking this, however, he is still only fifteen, yes?”

“Yes, he is.”

“My, he may very well outgrow you!” Despite the deep baritone of his voice, the stallion sounded excited. Celestia simply laughed.

His first instinct was to shout. To rage at what was happening. Instead, he sat back and waited. Arms tightly crossed. He was bound and determined to keep his cool as best he could.

New leaf and all that.

They continued to converse over his head, pointing out little details they could find on him, like the spiral pattern on his horn and the clothing choices he had made at the beginning of the day.

He had chosen a green shirt with black slacks this morning, and now, as Emerald Bowspirit cooed at the color choice, he suppressed the growl of frustration that rose in his throat and regretted dressing entirely.

After a while, Celestia spoke up. “Orion, I think you have already puzzled out why they're here.” She said calmly.

“Yeah, about ten seconds after y'all started running your mouths.” Clipper’s eyes narrowed at him for the first time. “Yeah, get used to reacting like that, buddy.”

“Orion.”

“No. Don't Orion me, Princess.” The attempt to control his temper had just flown out the window. “This is ridiculous! And insulting.” He pointed at the party of three. “Adoption?! That's your grand solution?!”

Celestia took a deep breath, exhaling as the others, minus Raven, who just glared at him, looked alarmed at his behavior.

“Clipper Line is, as his family name has no doubt made you aware, a Shipwright.” She gave him a fixed stare, challenging him to interrupt her again. When he didn't, she nodded and went on. “Their entire family are all shipwrights, in fact. Though perhaps air shipwrights is a more apt term for their particular profession.”

Celestia paused for a moment, then nodded for him to speak. Something in his eyes must have given away that he was about to blow his top.

“Alright, cool. At least they are doing something useful. Unlike…what was that family who did all the speaking events,” his mind drifted back to the cobwebbed recesses of his memories, “the…Deftones? Was that it?” He tapped the side of his muzzle and didn't notice the Princess's look of surprise nor the action he had just performed. “Eh, doesn't matter.” He shot another glare at her. “What does is the fact that you think anyone can give me “structure” as you call it.”

Free had leaned down to near eye level with him and gave him a smirk.

“Now, I do not want you to take this the wrong way, but we have been warned about your stubbornness.” Her grey eyes challenged his own, and his already angered countenance jumped ten degrees hotter. “And-”

He barked a laugh in her face.

“Mare,” he said between laughs and refrained from another term altogether, “I have starved in the streets of Stalliongrad. I have been subjected to soap in my mouth over every naughty word I ever spoke when I was fresh off the boat.” He cocked his head. “Airship, actually. I was made to go hungry for bad behavior. Hell, I've even almost died a couple of times now.” His face darkened as his gaze pinned Free Beam where she stood. Her expression spoke volumes about how big the pile of shit she had stepped in really was. “I do not believe you have the balls to try and punish me in a way that will achieve any reasonable objective other than to piss me off.” He used a big word to get his point across, and the mare before him goggled.

“Orion!” Celestia snapped, yanking him away with telekinesis.

“Well, exxcusssee me, Princess.” Fury built in his throat, his control of his attitude slipping even further than it already had. That challenge had gotten under his skin so fast he hardly realized the spite roaring to prominence in his head till it was already too late. “You may have told them what to expect, but there is a reason I avoided adoptions like the plague. As you have said before, this is the tip of what it's like to deal with me.” Venom dripped from his tone as he squared off with the monarch. “Anyone crazy enough to think they can control me is in for a rude awakening.”

Clipper and his wives' faces were a comical painting of shock, that he could only barely see from his periphery. “Good, the sooner they get the picture, the sooner I can go back home, eat something and pass out. This shit is stupid as fuck, and I'm well past caring about my attitude. I can try again tomorrow.”

Orion figured that this family of hopefuls would soon have whatever hopes they had dashed by the mere fact that he was a complete asshole and not afraid to show it.

What he hadn't anticipated was Celestia leaning over and snatching his ear in a vice grip that pulled him to his hooves.

“Orion.” She said stiffly, heat from her pouring over him. “My patience for your little outburst is wearing quite thin.”

“Oh, you might as well rip my ear off!” He growled back. Even Raven looked slightly taken aback by that statement as the Princess’s eyes bore into his with shock.

Silence fell. The High Princess was being matched glare for glare by a colt now standing on the very tips of his hooves as he was nearly hauled by his ear over the coffee table.

“Princess,” Clipper said pleadingly. “I now see what you mean by how easily he can get under a pony's fur.” He turned to Orion. The white mare had yet to let go of his ear, and the way her fingers tightened, there was a good chance she was actually considering his offer. “Orion, I'm sorry if it seems as if we are attempting to force your compliance.” He shot a withering look at Free Beam, and the mare, both alarmed by what was happening and embarrassed, looked away. “I fear that while my wife always has good intentions, she sometimes comes across as a little rough.”

Finally, Celestia relinquished her grip, and the black pony sat back, ignoring the pain that throbbed in his ear, and turned to face the stallion. The left side of his face now felt like it had been placed under a sunlamp.

“Then what? What is the point? What is it that you want?”

“To provide you with a home,” Clipper said simply, softly. Orion blinked slowly.

“He can't be serious.”

“Okay, that…that does not compute. What do you mean: “Provide me with a home?” He was beginning to think this pony was slow or something.

“We mean that we want to provide you with a place where you will feel safe, Orion,” Emerald spoke up. “What we have read, well…” she faltered, eyes slightly watering, “you have not had the easiest life. Judging by what you've said of your past, I…I can't even imagine.”

“Sorry if I said something to upset you.” Murmured Free, “It wasn't my intention to make you think we were going to punish you at every little outburst or slight.”

“Orion,” Clipper Line picked up the inside conversation again, “My wives and I are of the mind that punishing you will not get us anywhere.” He chuckled. “I imagine you see yourself as an adult.”

It wasn't a question, but it seemed like it was looking for an answer anyway.

“For the most part, yes.” Orion simply responded, wondering where this was going.

“Then, I feel, and Emerald and Free as well, that we should regard you as such.” He shook his head. “I do not expect you to call us your parents or demand affection from you.” He smiled. “All we wish is to provide you with shelter and, perhaps, stimulating conversation.”

The human-turned-colt regarded the family with suspicion before turning his head to Celestia. “You offered them a tax break or something?”

Free burst out laughing as, for the second time in his life, he saw something remarkable. A repeat event. Princess Celestia blushed. Just the tips of her ears, but it was there nevertheless.

“N-no, Orion.” She paused and snorted, trying to wipe away her anger from her face. “I did…well, I did, and they rejected it.” His eyes widened before glancing nervously at them.

“Y'all on drugs?” He questioned. Getting a scowl from Emerald.

“No, we are not.” She said primly.

“A cult?” He asked.

“No, colt. I wouldn't even know where to begin finding and joining one.” Free Beam replied humor in her voice.

Orion took a moment to consider them.

There, the three stood; they had not been offered or taken a seat this entire time, and yet they did not seem unhappy about it. They just waited on him and his response. He also regarded the Sun Princess in the room, trying and failing to peer past the mask she wore once more. The slight blush was likely all he was going to get out of her.

With a sigh, he realized he needed to reign himself in. His emotions were all over the place, and he was certain that no matter what happened today, he was no longer going to be living under Mrs. Evergarden's roof.

“Princess,” he began, slow and unsure, “why now? Why do this at all? At best, they have a few years to put up with me. At worst, it'll be a living nightmare as they deal with whatever crap I send their way. So why?”

“Orion,” she said softly, “do you know of the whispers about Mrs. Evergarden's orphanage?” Celestia began flipping pages in his records once more.

“Can't say I've ever heard any.” He frowned. “Judging by your tone, however, it's got something to do with me, though, I'm sure.” Finally, he allowed his hand to drift to his ear, rubbing it gingerly. “My God, lady, you got that gorilla grip.” He flashed a slight impish grin at her.

Celestia deadpanned at him, and he sighed. Perhaps then, there was not the time to be a perv. She returned to the folder.

“You are correct that the rumors are indeed about you.” She shook her head. “It is said that Mrs. Evergarden is unable to control you, that you torture the foals. That is why they are so grateful and eager to find homes. That it is you, and not her, that runs the orphanage.” He winced at that past one.

“I take it those…are the tame ones.” Orion tiredly said. “That's why she had so many brats running around the building when I got back, isn't it? Those silly ass rumors.”

“It is true, the latest adoption drive that she attempted had not yielded the most promising of results.” Her look turned stoic. “Did you not notice? The last Parent Week in which you were in attendance had many of the adopters coming in from out of the city.”

He had, in fact, noticed that many potential families had come from mostly farming communities, a great turn from the usual folks of unicorn origins. That wasn't to say no one outside the city adopted; the norm was that locals had first dibs on adoption proceedings, then more rural communities. It was the reverse in this case.

“Yeah.” He hung his head. Had he really been causing that much trouble for Daisy? Being an ass wasn't the only apparent crime he had inflicted on the poor Matron.

Or was this a ploy to get him to go along with the Princess’s scheme? He watched her wearily, seeking a gap in her metaphorical armor.

Nothing.

It didn't feel like a scheme, and all those foals he had counted upon his return took up the majority of Mrs. E's available living space. By this time, a new crop of foals was brought in every year in the past. But he knew many of the kids' faces, if not names, that were still there. There had been far too many.

“Shit.”

The black pony turned his gaze on the family of shipwrights once more. “Couldn't help but notice the gray eyes and the chosen family profession.” He remarked dryly. “Nice touch.”

“Your interests were taken into consideration for this. Orion, from what I have learned, you have a shelf dedicated and stuffed quite full of airship paraphernalia.” She gave a delicate shrug. “I suspect that if you were to go to a home, one that held interest for you in terms of occupation would have more success than one you would consider beneath you.”

“It's not that I would consider anyone's career path…beneath me,” he smirked, “save for “organized speaking eventers”, but that I don't have too much interest outside of traveling.” He smirked. “I turned down royalty after all.”

That got a raised eyebrow from Emerald Bowspirit, and she and her husband shared a confused look.

This was all so ridiculous. The urge to fight, to argue, shit, just to throw something, was almost overwhelming. But a small voice in the back of his head reminded him of all his failures in Griffonia. Of what almost happened and how he had made a resolution to be a better person. Of his current behavior and how he failed to improve that resolution.

Worse. He feared he would be saddled with something worse than these people should somehow manage to balk at Celestia's demands.

“These people don't deserve my anger.” He thought unhappily.

They didn't deserve his love either. That went without saying. Yet they deserved at least common courtesy from him, if nothing else. They were apparently willing to go through hellfire without an apparent reward.

Taking a deep sigh, he asked his most pressing question with difficulty. “What would change?” he ignored the Princess's scowl. Should I move in with you?”

“If we're being honest, I do not believe there would be much. All we do ask is that you join us for family dinners when you're ready, of course, and not to be a ghost in our halls.” Clipper replied, his expression uncomfortably hopeful.

“That's it?” Orion prodded.

“Well, there may be issues that crop up from time to time that may bother us. However, I like to think that we will come together as a family and acquaintance to discuss and find viable solutions to ordinary problems.” It seemed as if Clipper Line had been chosen to be their voice in these negotiations.

“Huh.” That wasn't too shabby an offer.

“What about coming and going? I sometimes like to just randomly pop in and out of the orphanage at will. I'm expecting to be curtailed somewhat on that with you.” He waved his hands in the air to forestall their first remarks. “I'm not saying I go days at a time without actually being at the orphanage; I just say that once school is over, I typically like to do my own thing. Also, I have friends in Ponyville that I would like to continue to see.”

“And that will be something we will have to discuss. We do have a curfew for our daughters, and we expect you to abide by a curfew of your own. Despite how grown you consider yourself, you are still only fifteen years old.” Clipper shrugged. “If we have the family's name and contact information of your friends, then I would see no issue so long as it does not interfere with school.”

“Dare I ask what you have in mind for the former?”

“Nothing, two onius,” Emerald replied. “Just that you're in before nightfall and in bed at a reasonable hour. Our daughters are impressionable at this point in their lives, and we would rather dislike you setting a poor example for them.”

“What the hell did that mean?”

Ignoring that, he asked one last important question. “What are you hoping to get out of all this? What is in it for you?”

“We have thought about that.” Clipper began, but Free Beam butted in a grin so wide it practically broke her face in two.

“Why, we would be known as the herd that tamed the untamable!” For the first time, he noticed that her teeth were not the standard pony fare.

“Okay, I may be missing something here, and I certainly shouldn't be the one saying this myself, but what the hell is going on with your teeth?” He blurted out in surprise.

“Oh!” She responded with a grin. “An ancestor of mine married a thestral and had foals.” She pointed at her chest, and Orion noticed her arm bulged appreciatively. That dress of hers did an amazing job hiding her more buff exterior. “I'm the product of that. Don't worry,” she grinned wickedly, “as far as I know, I haven't drained anypony of blood.” She laughed. “Yet.”

Emerald sighed, giving her sister-wife a withering glare. “No, but every morning, we have to send for more fruits.” Turning to the black colt, she spoke. “What we get out of this is knowing a colt that has gone on without a home for years will now have one.” She said softly. “Orion, in an orphanage with a constantly fluctuating population of foals, I imagine you are largely ignored.”

“Kinda, but I can't say I don't like it that way.” He admitted. “It's easier for me.”

“And that is the shameful part. Perhaps this is a bit old-fashioned in thinking, but I do not believe that a colt should be subjected to that no matter how much they like it that way.”

It was old-fashioned in thinking. But if they were being honest with what they were saying and intending, it was at least touching.

“How many kids you got?”

“Kids?” Clipper asked, confused. “As in goats?”

“Ah, shit. I'm going to have to educate y'all on my chosen vernacular.” Orion chuckled. “ I mean, how many foals you got? Kids are slang for offspring.”

“Oh!” Free smiled. “We have three. All fillies.”

“Well, that's gonna be trouble.”

“Great.” He dragged out the word. “Ages? Names?”

“Well, our oldest, Ocean Keel, is fourteen.” Emerald ticked off with her fingers. “Star Board is thirteen. The second is born from my womb.” Orion very carefully did not wince. This mare had an odd way of speaking that left him feeling like he had traveled back in time quite
a bit.

“The last one is Ember Port, also hers.” Free Beam interrupted. “She's fourteen too but was born a week late.” She chuckled. “Doesn't like to be reminded of that, so watch your hooves around her.”

He gave a weak smile, wondering how a twin could manage to be born a week late. “I'll endeavor to remind her at every chance I get.” That pulled a laugh from the mare. He frowned and turned to Celestia, who had been quiet yet wore a rather pleased look on her face. “You pulled out the stops for this one, didn't you?”

“I shall confess, this has not been easy. The Shipwrights had only recently moved to Canterlot, and after the interview, I believed they were perfect for the unadoptable pony, Orion Falls.”

“Oh, yes. Big smug for madam.” He groaned. He was actually considering this. Rubbing his face, he stared at the floor. “Truth is, I don't have a choice. Celestia is hellbent on this happening regardless of whether I want to or not. If I try and reject, I think she'll make it a court order or some such bullshit, and again, I won't have a choice.” He looked at the three ponies that stood in front of him. Their faces are a mix of worry, hopefulness, and confidence. “They don't even understand. How can they? They're not adopting a fifteen-year-old pony, but a grown-ass forty-three-year-old man.”

His thoughts turned to Daisy Evergarden. If what the Princess had said was true, that mare had gone through more than just putting up with his occasional dickishness. She had been shouldering the burden of taking care of a stubborn jerk who scared the foals enough for them to leave warnings about pissing him off in little cubby holes and old notebooks. That wasn't a legend. It was a haunting, no matter how he tried to dress it up.

“Ugh…I'm such a shithead.” He closed his eyes. “Not that I suspect I have much choice in this, but fine. But I reserve the right to return to the orphanage should this not work out, and I end up hanging the entire lot of you by the cannons outside your home. Are we clear?”

“Orion, I think you'll find yourself in my dungeons if you do that.” Celestia gave him a stern glare.

“Relax, Sunnyside. That was a joke.”

Celestia pushed all the files she had brought with her back into an ordered stack, redone the binding strings, and then sat on her seat and thought for a minute.

Orion Falls had been oddly subdued during their interview. Even with the arrival of the Shipwrights, his explosive nature never truly appeared save for but a moment, and he reeled that back in just as quickly as it had come. That was odd to the ancient Alicorn. Odd for the black pony that had caused her so much trouble in recent years.

“He wasn't as…combative as I had thought he would be,” Raven said quietly, half to herself.

“Orion spoke of almost dying.” The High Princess spoke up.

“Really, your Highness?”

“Yes,” she paused and nodded a bit, “a Roc nearly ended him. I believe that was a sobering experience for our young wayward colt.”

“Perhaps, though one would think the Timberwolves would have done that.” Raven Inkwell fought a grin and lost. Celestia couldn't help but chuckle herself. “So, will he learn his place? Finally?”

“That remains to be seen, Raven. But if this meeting is anything to go by, I believe we have begun to see his course alter here. His attitude, however, may have begun its shift before now.” She shook her head, dispelling thoughts of the pony. “Speaking of Rocs and beasts, what news from Griffonia?”

The secretary mare coughed and straightened herself.

“As of this morning, we have gotten vague but plentiful reports that an urgent Council meeting has been called between all the High Nobles of Griffonia.” She pulled a slip of paper from her sleeve and handed it to Celestia. “As of now, we do not know what the contents of that meeting will entail.” She frowned. “Griffonian informational security is still vexingly effective. Other than that, we have little to go on.”

The Princess stood and paced, reading over the scant information on the page before it burst a light in her hands, her horn’s glow quickly winking out as fast as it had come.

“Nothing?” She did not snap; the mare was good at her job, and she had learned long ago not to abuse her best. Good help did not, in fact, pop up with every generation.

“No, your Highness.” Raven shook her head. “We have been unable to ascertain any new information.” She blinked. No, wait. Forgive me, your Highness. There is one notable absence from the meeting, two actually. Grace Fairheart is still in Neighbon as of two days ago. She seems to be staying within the Silktail residence. This would be her second trip to Neighbon in as many weeks.”

“And the other?” Grace Fairheart didn't matter. Her status was less a concern and more of an addendum to the broader scope of Griffon politicking.

“Margaret Rosebreast is missing. Has been missing for three days. We are not sure why. Most of her house is confused, not knowing what to do or who to send in her place if somepony could even replace her at all.” She shook her head. “There were reports of a battle of some sort, but nothing substantive. The hen has done a fine job in weeding out potential rivals to the point there is no pony but her now with any real power in her family line. Or to give accurate information.”

Celestia had met the hen once when she was still coming into her role as head of her house. Cunning, brilliant, and entirely too obsessed with restoring her family to the Crown of Griffonia. A foolish creature who desired power with none of the preparation needed to ensure her base of power was secure. In her course of securing her title and authority, it was more luck than skill that won the day for her, and she left many behind who now plotted bitterly for her fall.

The white mare stopped pacing, eyes narrowing.

“Do we have a report on Prince Gerhard?” She asked.

“Yes. Through Princess Cadence, we have been able to get a full report from Lieutenant Shining Armor.” Another page appeared. From a pocket this time, it was neatly folded up and handed to her quickly.

Celestia’s magenta orbs danced over the note quickly.

“It seems they are to break away from the main host. I was under the impression that Gerhard would make straight for the capital after their victory at Fort Bulwark.”

“The intelligencers had believed the same at the time. However, Shining Armor's report indicates they are pursuing a course toward the province of Icewall.”

“To Icewall?” She thought furiously. “Why would they journey…wait, battle?”

“Oh…Sigurd, you sly, sly drake.” She whispered aloud.

“Your Highness?” Raven had stepped forward, bold of the mare, but she could see worry in her eyes, and this wasn't a formal setting.

“Sigurd Bloodbeak means to crush Margaret Rosebreast, likely already has, and her absence is not a product of her trying to remain hidden. I believe he might have discovered something that can lead to an all-out dissolution of one of the great houses.” A small smile graced her lips. “He already has her in the castle dungeons as we speak.”

“Ruthless, my dear drake. Very ruthless.”

“That has not been done in several centuries, my Princess.” There was a note of appreciation in her secretary’s voice.

“You are correct. It has not been since the loss of their prime industry that there has been an event like this. One I am growing more certain of by the minute. It must be substantial whatever he found.” She shook her head. “That griffon would not violate the Rules of Return unless it was tantamount to treason itself.” Perhaps Grace Fairheart had a larger role in all of this after all.

“I must remind you then, Princess, that Rosebreast had been purchasing the use and time of pony mercenaries lately.”

Celestia nodded at that. This had been a recent development, one that she was unsure how to regard. If that foolish hen was going to attempt to create a false flag, a casus belli to be precise, it would take more than a force of five hundred, even if they were all unicorns.

“What news on that band of cutthroats?” If they were no longer in play, then it stood all the more reason that Sigurd had truly found something game-changing.

“Nothing, your Highness.” The High Princess watched her subordinate’s eyes dart back and forth, her mind at work. “They departed heading northeast and then vanished from public scrutiny. Our agents have not been ordered to follow, as their assignment had been to remain in the capital. We can't afford to lose the only two that hadn't been sniffed out.”

That was true. The last one to have been caught had her throat slit and delivered to her balcony doorstep decades ago. How they had managed it she wished she knew. They had somehow gotten close enough to her without drawing the attention of the guard, the corpse on her divan.

Despite her disgust, she had decided that very day to employ thestrals to her guard detail in the evening. She loathed having them so close as recent years had proven them untrustworthy in her eyes.

The surge of Luna’s old cult was certainly something she did not wish to deal with in this laughably modern age. Though, to call it hers is certainly a stretch, considering her sister did her best to squash the wretched group long ago.

Still, she had to take a risk, and it wasn't like they were strong enough to harm her. If not for the image of being untouchable, she would not even need them. But the stunt the Griffons played was a slight on her reputation, and it would not happen again.

“So we have a vanishing force of unicorn mercenaries that headed northeast, Gerhard, who is beelining directly toward Icewall, and Rosebreast, who has gone missing entirely.” She chuckled. “I smell a conspiracy, Raven. I believe our dear Margaret has overplayed her hand in some event. We have yet to know the contents of, and have had no time to cover her tracks or run.”

“New orders, Ma'am?” Her secretary asked.

“Yes, I shall give them directly to the intelligencers myself. Inform them of my arrival.”

“At once, your Highness!” Excited, Raven Inkwell rushed from the room. It was rare for the mare to get to such a state. Yet, Celestia found something in the pony that she shared in equal measure. The excitement of political intrigue itself. In her long, long years of living, nothing appealed to her quite like predicting the movements in other nations.

Her tongue danced over her lips. It had been quite a while since she felt that spark.

“Perhaps I should take a look at the list.” If this all ended up being as stimulating as she suspected it would be, she was going to need a release, and soon.

Orion frowned at the house.

“No, it's a goddamn mansion. I thought these fuckers were shipbuilders! Not nobles!”

In contrast to Rarity's garishly colored home, the boxy, horseshoe-shaped structure was done in what he could only call Victorian-era Gothic.

The roof peaks were high, but they squared off, mixing slate shingles, iron caps, and strange fencing that spread throughout the massive complex rooftop in unorganized squares.

The walls had been painted a sandstone color, with high, narrow windows that framed balconies with iron railings. Trellises that looked to be painted green turned out to bear climbers of honeysuckle. Small flowers blossomed on the vines. There was another plant he wasn't familiar with, and had no flowers to identify it. It was intermixed with the honeysuckle, but it all gave a warm, welcoming feeling despite the depressing gothic structure itself.

“Of course, you're rich.” He groaned. Emerald Bowspirit came up beside him.

“Well, we are nobility, after all. The Shipwrights has been a name of honor in Manehattan for centuries. In fact, much of our family still resides there.” She cocked her head and sighed. “We had been selected to open a workshop here. Largely due to our experience in airship building.” Another sigh escaped her. “I am so going to miss Artisanal’s pastries.”

“Oh, wonderful, they are nobles. Missed that little fact, didn't ya, Celestia? You great white bitch!”

“I don't like nobles much either, Orion,” Clipper said, a bit of distaste tainting his tone.

“What?” He asked, confused.

“Your face when Emerald mentioned our status.” He chuckled. “I don't like them much either.”

“Oh.” He responded simply. “Why?”

“Because they have this need to take from everypony around them.” Free Beam spat. “Back home, there was often strain between us and rival ship makers. Which, you know, would be fine except the fact that instead of a healthy rivalry, they would try to use the law to curb or cut off each other's right to business.”

“Wait, so instead of just coming up with a better product, they chose to use lawfare to get what they wanted?” It was nice to see his disgust for nobility shared with others, but strange that it was coming from some of the nobles themselves.

“Yes.” Clipper picked up again, gesturing to them to follow after Emerald as she rushed to the great iron and glass doors herself. Behind were more doors, tall arched things of stained oak that served as the main entryway to the tiled foyer within. “It has gotten so bad that many smaller craftsponies have uprooted themselves from the pier and moved on to more promising fields.” He tsked in vexation. “The wharves there now look like a ghost town, and those who would purchase from them are now forced to rent from the larger, more powerful businesses. And those prices are not cheap.”

“Well, now, don't that sound familiar?” Before he was so unceremoniously dumped in this odd world, recent lawsuits had been filed to get coffee beans to be largely handled by mega-sellers such as Starbucks and Tim Hortons. The reasoning cited was the potential hazard small companies posed to public health through improper care of the product. The quality of control was not up to industry standard, or so the filing claimed. He had no idea if that had succeeded or not, as he was soon shuffled out of Genpop and into isolation with his trial date coming up.

“So why come here?” He asked, shouldering his bags and following after them.

He had been given a few days to say his goodbyes. Mrs. Evergarden had been a mess of tears and snot, the latter of which she left a heaping amount on his shoulder as she wept. He had finally given his crepe recipe over to Mr. Dumpling, but he thought the old stallion may have just torn it up after he left. The man looked like he was fighting back a wall of emotion himself.

The kids gave off some serious Children of the Corn vibes. All of them watching from the stairs and windows. Not saying a damn word.

“It must have been like watching a monument fall.” He thought a bit bitterly at the time.

But the good news is that he had a whole extra week off from school to get acquainted with his new living situation.

Free tried to take one of the bags from him, but he was carrying four, so he just shook his head and continued on. He had chosen to physically carry the luggage in part to demonstrate they were not just welcoming a unicorn into their home, but a strong near stallion that would not take their shit should they give it.

“Well, it's as Emerald has said, we were selected.” He smiled. “It's a family tradition to send out at least one branch to a new market every few generations.”

“How successful is that?” Orion asked, stepping up the short stairs with little difficulty.

“Not as successful as we would like. There have been setbacks, both financial and…” The stallion paused at the door, fingers wrapped around the iron knob.

“And?” Prompted the colt.

“Whole family lines were wiped out.” He shrugged uncomfortably. “It happens from time to time. Disease, banditry, sometimes just plain bad luck depending on where we drive the stakes in.” He smiled. “However, I don't believe that will happen here. We are one of the few families that actually builds airships in this city, and the contract we currently have with the Throne has us building for the next eight years with options for renewal should our workers produce well.” He turned the knob and ushered the black pony inside.

The foyer was warm and cozy. Orion couldn't help but appreciate the green mosaic tiles depicting a garden that made up the floor of the inner chamber. Mrs. Evergarden would have loved the place.

To his left were hooks for coats and cloaks as well as a rack for shoes. A small little station of towels sat nearby those, likely in the case of muddy legs and hooves. To his right was an umbrella rack and what appeared to be a closet that he did not investigate but could guess.

“Please. Put up your shoes. We'll give you the grand tour as best we can,” Clipper said while doing just that. “Not all the rooms are available to see, not to mention if we spent our entire time going room by room, it would take all day.”

“Possibly most of the night, too!” Chimed in Free Beam with a chuckle. “Couldn't really get anything smaller. Homes on the third plate are,” she waved her hand and stuck out her tongue, “grandiose.”

Orion was starting to like the wild-haired mare. Her attitude and mane gave her a punk rock feel that he missed from his own world. Once he had gotten past her challenging nature, he found the mare was often in good spirits and quick with a joke.

Meanwhile, with observations and conversations with Emerald Bowspirit in the cramped carriage, he found that mare reminded him a bit of Mrs. Evergarden in the vaguest sense. Prim and proper, she seemed to allow nothing to get to her. But the pony could see her nervous fidgeting when she didn't think anyone was noticing.

Then there was Clipper Line. The stallion definitely led when it came to decision-making, which was not uncommon, but less so when it came to nobility. The only other family line he could think of where the stallion was in full command was that of the Bluebloods, and he doubted that anyone in that group was on the same level of intelligence that Clipper was.

In the two days leading up to his move-in, including Friday itself, the man had been inquisitive, if a bit invasive, despite his efforts to respect the black colt’s privacy to a moderate degree. Something Orion could understand and appreciate. He was the invader, after all, no matter who invited who in.

No one brought up his history, or his vernacular for that matter, other than to discuss the various meanings behind some of his words. Emerald did not like what hell meant. At all. Though, he suspected that was coming.

For the most part, this family was taking it all extremely slow.

He could appreciate that.

Placing his things by the foyer entrance, he was ushered into the grand hall. Twin staircases, on both right and left, gently sloped to the top in the shape of a U. Nestled between them was a mostly finished family tree mosaic.

The lineage was massive, and just from the brief glance he had, he had changed family names at least three times. Some were scrubbed out completely.

“Jesus, there are certainly a lot of you, aren't there?” He said, stepping up to look. “You guys were called Carpenters, Masons…wow, you were just into about anything construction-based.”

“Mhm, that's right. We still have members who go by those names. Our branch,” Free pointed to a recently added limb with six branches shooting off from it, “is from over here.”

Orion picked through the list, musing in his head whether he should say something or not.

“Ah, what the hell? Why not? We gotta live with each other.”

“I'm gonna level with ya. You all sound more like an earth pony clan than a unicorn one.” He gave them an apologetic look. “Sorry if that came out wrong.”

“No need.” Clipper waved it away. “Truth is, we are. Our family line starts with the Fossores. Those were a herd of miners in the Blackhoof Hills. Back when the tribes' war was in full swing.” He frowned. “Back then, some terrible things went on. I…uh..” He stumbled, but the black colt knew what he was implying.

“Yeah. I know. I looked into a lot of history at that time. Rape and pillage wasn't exactly a sport, but those guys and gals back then sure made a run at it anyway.” He frowned. “I'm assuming that's how the unicorn line got mixed in?”

“Yes, actually.” The yellow stallion shook his head, a bit bewildered. “It's gonna be hard to get used to that.”

Free giggled. “He sounds like one of your Gran's sailors.”

“Colt, I'd advise you not to speak that way around Emerald or the girls,” Clipper warned in a whisper. “She's touchy with what they hear.”

“Because, of course, she is.” Orion looked back at the impressive family line. “I'm not gonna have to memorize these, am I?”

“By the Tree no.” Free laughed. “I'd have never been allowed to marry Clipper had that been part of the criteria.” She grinned, poking her husband. “Though this fella somehow knows every single one!”

He swatted back in turn, amusement, and annoyance intermixed on his face.

“Stop it, Free. You know it's my responsibility as Patriarch. It was my duty and honor to learn.”

The human-turned pony watched the pair light-heartedly bicker with one another, a small smile on his lips.

“They're not too bad.” A frown washed over him. “But I can't trust these people. Celestia boxed me into this, but that doesn't mean I can open up to anyone.”

“Something wrong?” Free asked. Both were looking at him now, and he coughed awkwardly.

“Naw just stuck in my own head.” Waving off their concerns, he spoke to change the subject. “So, what say you to giving me that grand tour? Gotta be some dark secret you've yet to uncover here.”

“Has he settled in?” Emerald asked as her fingers danced to put her mane up into curlers. She liked the ringlets these contraptions gave her, but hated how heavy they made her head feel, that's why she chose to only use them at night, where she could rely on the pillow to share some of the burden “He seemed oddly quiet during dinner.”

Orion Falls had been engaging and alert for almost the entirety of the day. Yet, when the conversation lulled during the evening meal, he became withdrawn, stirring the Prench Chestnut soup listlessly and staring off into the ether.

According to Free, the tour had gone well. The black colt had taken great interest in the Atrium, her own personal joy of the mansion. The greenhouse had been the selling point for her, and she had begun filling it with as much greenery as she could stuff into it, as the budget would allow, of course. Her husband jokingly called it “Her Jungle”.

Still, Orion had begun slowly withdrawing in on himself throughout the night. To the point of nonverbal communication when they showed him his rooms. The only thing he had to say to i was, “This is way too much for me.”

It was a simple three-room residence, like one she herself had when she was a foal in Manehattan.

Yet, that was it. He bid them goodnight and shut the door.

Clipper spoke up, drawing back the covers of their massive bed as he did so.

“Yes, I checked on him a bit ago, he's still awake, organizing his rooms a bit.” He shook his head. “He had a good chunk of the furniture piled in a corner. Not sure why that is, but he was still awake, writing in a journal at his desk.”

“Probably didn't like the pieces we chose.” Free said with a shrug, coming out of the bath with a towel wrapped around the top of her mane and little else. “I think I saw him frown at several tables and chairs while we walked him around, and when we showed him his rooms he, heh, got a really annoyed look on his face. That colt prefers the simple things in life. I'll bet my last bit on it.”

The lone stallion in the room couldn't seem to help himself. Leaving the bed, he swept up behind his second wife and let his fingers trace over her stomach and breasts gently, eliciting a cooing sound from her lips.

“I hope you two will not be planning to keep me up tonight. We have a busy day tomorrow.” She scolded gently. “Our girls will be on the first train in the morning, and we have to pick them up.”

They had decided it was best to send their daughters out to their cousins in Manehattan so that they did not overwhelm the poor pony the first day in their home. It only really bought them a day, as they were returning home for classes that began Tuesday. The colt was getting a week’s extension from classes himself due to the change in his living conditions. They wanted to give Orion a chance to at least acclimate to their presence in his life, and the girls would be in classes of their own for most of that time.

In any event, their foals would have to be instructed to keep their distance a while longer. If they annoyed him too much, he may act on his more purported creative side and find an unusual way to punish them for their intrusion. The Princess had been very clear that the pony should not be underestimated in any way, and Emerald would not fail in that.

“Though,” she thought sourly, “I'm likely the only one to be hard on him.” She watched her sister-wife and husband with annoyance as their activities moved to the bed, already messing up the covers. “I think I'll sleep in the guest bedroom tonight.”

Emerald Bowspirit did not begrudge her husband and sister-wife their indulgences, but she would have appreciated their discretion in lieu of tomorrow’s events.

They were excited, and despite her many concerns, so was she. They had a colt under their roof now. Despite the many issues that came with it, Emerald hoped with determination to pry him from his shell, and see the wonderful pony that was beneath that rough exterior.

Sighing, Orion set down his quill and sat back from his desk in the center of a now mostly empty room. It was one of three assigned to him, and this was his personal study.

His eyes fell on the well-crafted surface of the writing table, and he snorted.

“About the only reasonably suitable piece of furniture in this fucking place.” He avoided looking at the carefully stacked pile of couches, chairs, and tables in the corner. When he had first walked into his private rooms, he was appalled at the gaudy, overly dressed-up furnishings he had been provided.

In his humble opinion, they look like a kid got a hold of a bedazzler kit and went to town. When he had first laid eyes on it, he couldn't help but sneer, though he hoped he wiped it away fast enough for his hosts not to notice.

Once they left, he went and piled it high so that he could remove it all sometime tomorrow. Likely while they were out picking up their kids.

His thoughts turned away from gaudy furniture and back to his hosts.

They were a nice bunch. Trying way too hard to make him feel welcome and comfortable. He snorted again, stilling the dark chuckle that wanted to burble outward.

“It's not their fault. They have no idea what they have on their hands.” Despite his confidence, in the back of his mind, he worried.

It was one thing when he was living under the roof of Mrs. Evergarden and her Orphanage. Now that a family had willingly taken him in, there was the distinct possibility that his actions would reflect on them should anything he might do come to light.

“No. It will reflect on them, and they will lose…standing or respect or whatever the hell upper crust society used as a measuring system for value.”

He shouldn't care. That was the truth. He should not care. Yet, Celestia was right in one point, if nothing else: His actions had consequences not just on himself but also on those around him. And while he should live for himself, the stakes for others were just that much higher being associated with him.

“Fuuuuuccccckkkkk….” The abusive proclamation slipped past his lips in a whisper.

He couldn't play around anymore. Not if he was to move past his history. To prove to himself, if no one else, that he could be better than the jackass he was on earth. That he would not repeat the same mistakes. Mistakes that hurt his grandparents, mistakes that hurt countless others as he struggled through both lives.

Helping the griffons had been a start. A great start, in his opinion, despite what ended up happening.

Standing, he walked over to the stained glass window toward the rear of the room. Moonlight broke through the glass in a myriad of soft colors. It was too dark to tell what the image was, but it was pretty.

Gazing up at the warped lunar orb that hung thousands of miles away, he sighed.

“I have to do better.”

Author's Note

Good Morning, everyone!

I hope the new year is starting out with a bang for you all! Gonna keep it short as I don't have much to say. If you liked, leave a comment below. If ya didn't, leave a comment below. If it made you mildly constipated, leave a comment. If you spoke the words out loud and backwards, leave a comment. All in all, leave a comment.

Lol.

You all have a wonderful week! And I hope you enjoyed the chapter!

Thanks for Reading! Peace!