The "Tourist"

Chapters

Chapter One: Here be Dragons
Chapter Two: Violet Wind
Chapter Three: A long day at The Northern Port
Chapter Four: Old Regrets and Answers.
Chapter Five: The Mountain and Board games
Chapter Six: The Chancery
Chapter Seven: A Midnight Chat
Chapter Eight: A Chance Encounter.
Chapter Nine: Military Processions and Graveyards
Chapter Ten: A Car Ride Chat
Chapter Eleven: A Universal Business Proposal.
Chapter Twelve: The Hunt

Chapter One: Here be Dragons

Author's Note

Hello! Thank you for clicking on this story! No really, thank you, I appreciate it a lot that you took the chance to click here.
Fair warning in advance I'm kind of doing my own thing with this story? With characters, concepts, and ideas being changed and tweaked to my personal preference. For example Discord is less the cheery draconequus everyone knows and more of an eldritch being. Someone that still loves playing jokes and pranks with their very best friend in the whole wide world, but clearly doesn't understand humanity and their concept of a joke can be...loose at best to outsiders that don't share their unique worldview.

Moving on, I would like to say thanks to the writers for Steve Smith’s journey into Russia from the New World Order mod. I don't play the mod nor am I in contact with the community in any way shape or form, but I would like to extend a word of thanks and congratulations for the writers of Steve Smith's journey. You people have made something that inspired this poor foolish to take their own crack at writing a story, thank you.
And moving on from that hopefully you all enjoy this story. I worked on it for a very long time (a year and a half!) so with luck it's received well. Regardless, may you have a good day and thank you again for reading this story!

Chapter One: Here be Dragons

Flick, flick, scratch, snap! The smell of burnt phosphorus and ash came into the air. A sigh quickly followed.

Flick, flick, scratch, snap! The sigh became a grumble.

Flick, flick, scratch, fwoosh! Zephyr Breeze smiled in relief as he held the match in front of his face, granting him the gift of light in his new cramped quarters, currently the inner parts of a lifeboat that he had stuffed himself in. In this cramped, dark, and wet place that Zephyr suspected that perhaps the Daring Do books, especially the parts where she had smuggled herself into boxes for weeks at a time, had lied to him.

Great, just great, he thought to himself as he idly watched the slow burning match in his hands illuminate his damp surroundings. I managed to stowaway myself onto a ship headed out of Equestria, and of all the places in the world to hide in it’s in a lifeboat of all things! Agghh Zephyr…you're not exactly fit to be the next Daring Do, are you?

“Well at the very least all of my stuff is here,” he said to himself shimmying around and with a free arm touched his suitcase that he had shoved into the lower compartment of the lifeboat. “At least I have that going for me and uhh, this, well if I can find it that is.”

A minute or two of rummaging passed as Zephyr checked his coat pockets until he eventually pulled out a small brass compass.

“And I have this,” he said to himself proudly as he observed the compass in the match light. It was made almost entirely out of brass, had a sundial, and more interesting to anyone looking at it for the first time, on its back was the symbol of an ouroboros - one which wasn’t the ordinary depiction of a green serpent, but instead a strange chimera-like creature, twin fanged, with eyes burning bright as stars. It eagerly bit its tail as it flew around and around knowing that it would never stop nor want to.

“Strange thing really,” he said to himself as he looked it up and down.before he turned its attention to its needle, “but I can’t give it much fault as it’s helped me so far.” Looking at it he remembered the words or at least the meaning that he inferred from the creature that gave him this device before he left Equestria.

“May You See The World In All of Its Wondrous Colors and Shapes.”

Discord.

The mention or even the thought of the entity’s name or even recalling what it had said that night sent a chill down his spine. Known to much of the world as The Herald of Chaos, Discord was an enigmatic figure. Because unlike The Twin Monarchs, unlike Tirek, or Nightmare Moon, or so many other mythical figures in the world, Discord never showed their true form. Instead choosing to drape themselves in an ornate brown Saddle Arabian burka their figure beneath. To date nobody - not the Twin Monarch’s, not Twilight Sparkle, and not even his precious sister (who spent years with it as it’s companion) saw the figure that waited inside Discord’s outfit.

Instead what everyone saw was their outfit, decorated with the broken fragments of their prison, and hiding a vaguely humanoid form underneath that they could swear changed by the second. One moment to the viewer it could be a lanky creature with many arms, the next a twig-like form that could only be a puppet with gills, and yet a hulking monstrosity with vines spilling out from underneath its costume. Everyone saw something different and oftentimes it was either monstrous or weird. Or both.

It was unnerving, to say the least, being next to it or seeing Discord in a day to day life, much less living with it; Zephyr had been with Discord for a few months before his current situation. During which he had hidden himself away from the world’s affairs in his sister's home; all the while Discord played prank after prank on him. From turning his skin blue and pale, transforming the books into monsters so they would try to eat him when he would read them, and oftentimes having him wake up in pieces, forcing him to sew himself back together.

Sadly, that wasn’t even the worst part about him.

It was the way that it talked that was the worst part. Because when they did, Zephyr knew that Discord spoke to him; he understood what they were talking about, but he could never make out exactly what they had said, nor could he ever give an explanation as to why. The herald of chaos never actually spoke; in fact going through his memories Zephyr could only remember Discord either gesturing at him or standing still, and him somehow through strange convenience understanding what it meant. It was as if he had been given the script of a play saying that something had happened, what it meant, but never what those things actually were. Something to which confused Zephyr to end.

“Pfft, honestly, who even talks like that?” Zephyr muttered to himself as he recollected himself. “Was that last part they said a way for them to say good luck?” He shrugged, not wanting to dwell on it too much. Dwelling on things led him to staying in his sister's home for months, so better not to do that now while he still could. “Well, no matter, at least it was something ” he continued as he took another moment to shimmy around in the lifeboat for room. All the while his mind wandered to the night that he decided to abandon Equestria’ to its fate to run away while he still could.

Why? Because the alternatives were: either to be dragged into the army to die a quick and painful death in the meatgrinder of war that was the Equestrian front against the changelings, or work in the mines to suffer a slow but equally painful death. One that followed the unofficial motto of Equestria at the time, a motto to which they had adapted in the time of crisis they had found themselves within due to the changeling war, serve the state or be punished. It didn’t matter if you were young, old, childish, or barely past the age of fifteen you still had to serve in the military . And if you didn’t you were punished before being forced to, something to which his sister had eventually agreed with, and the effects of which Zephyr knew all too well.

“Hehm, yeah, join up or get beaten down and broken,” he said to himself as he took a moment to rub his back and inspect his wings for a moment. They were still broken, still misshapen, and the muscles coupled with the few feathers on them made ordinary flight near-impossible. “Hehm, yeah.”

Well moving on from that at the very least I'm here I guess, that has to mean something, he idly thought to himself as he concluded his thoughts and put away the compass that he had Managed to find a boat headed to The Isles and stuffed myself into a lifeboat like in the books I read. Shame there wasn’t a hiding spot or anything, but this’ll do. Only thing to worry about is…what am I gonna do now?

He searched for something to do in there, but there wasn’t much in the lifeboat. Some tins of chocolate, food, water, blankets, and more stuffed into the sides and in little compartments. Grabbing one of the blankets Zephyr carefully spread it out underneath him before he began waiting. He got into the lifeboat in the dead of night when everything was nice and quiet so it would probably be good manners to wait until they were at sea before doing anything more.

Lying on his back Zephyr waited, and waited….and waited some more. There was nothing to do other than to simply look through the heavy cloth that covered the lifeboat so he did just that. Eventually at some point he could feel his thoughts begin to strangely become slippery and hard to process before they fell through his grasp altogether. When it did a numbing sensation overcame him for a few moments during which he could see nothing but black before everything refocused again and with it the feeling of being alive. It was like he was left stranded alone in a pitch black room for a few hours to rest before someone turned on the lights to wake up him up.

Recovering from the sensation he couldn't help but blink his eyes in confusion before rubbing them in mixed relief. Did he just sleep? That sure didn’t feel like sleeping. Instead it felt like his off switch was flipped and then left to stay there for a while before eventually it was flipped the other way around. It was a strange feeling and one that only felt weirder when he went through his mind of what just happened.

Because when he did everything felt hazy. The feeling that he had felt before was barely there, only recallable through intense focus. Instead he could remember still doing the same routine that he did before: idly drumming his fingers on his lap, occasionally peeking through the cover, and waiting for the passage of time to slip by, but it felt off. He could remember doing those things, faintly, but just as if he was talking to Discord it felt like he was given a script on what he had just done without even doing them. It was odd, very odd.

Well better not to think of it, Zephyr thought to himself, taking a moment to stretch he listened to the melody of cracks that his body began to make as it worked its way back to life before he made his way out. Let’s see what’s on deck.

I uhh expected something fancier to say the least, was the first thoughts that entered Zephyr’s mind when he climbed out of the lifeboat and onto the deck. Looking from one end to another he could spot that the deck of the cargo ship he was in was big no doubt, big enough that it could ferry several hundred tons worth of cargo without worry, but it felt strangely cramped? At least in comparison to the big blue around him with its waves and its sheer expanse. Because the ocean stretched on and on and on as far as the eye could see. While the boat, the boat that he was in was just what he could see in front of him. The vent to his side, the electrical light that barely worked giving off a dull glow, and the machinery that he could see that allowed the ship to move cargo, and nothing more.

Moving across the deck for a moment to stretch his legs, Zephyr idly watched the heavy, yet peaceful waves as the ship sailed towards its destination in The Isles. It was quiet, strangely quiet, apart from his breath, the squeak of his leather boots on the floor and the waves Zephyr couldn't hear anything else. The deck was clean, squeaky clean. The paint markings on the deck that he could see were freshly painted without a single sign of being worn away. All the while the few tools that hung on the outside were as new as thought they were bought yesterday. It was just him and him alone with nobody else to notice or to even watch him.

Eventually he grew bored and made his way back to the lifeboat, cleaning it of any evidence that he could find, and resting back in it as he could see the first glints of the sun come up.

The second day and night at sea was much like the first. Wait until he suspected that night had come, come out, and idly walk around the ship looking at things. There wasn’t much to look at, but there was a lot to fantasize about. What were the crew doing? What were they hauling? Were they hauling guns, food, tools, money? If not, then what business did they have in Equestria before moving to The Isles?

Sadly there was no evidence or any clues that would help him solve the mystery. There were no vehicles leashed to the deck via sturdy cables, no errant machinery that he could see to make a clue, nothing. Nothing except a log book that was set next to the door in a script that he couldn't read due to it not being Equestrian.

Well now I know the crew for this boat is draconic at least, he thought to himself as he put the clipboard away after taking a moment to flip through it. Without much else to do he reached into his pocket to pull out his compass and watched it as it spun. In his hands east became west, west became east, north became south one moment, in the next moment west became south, north became east, and so and so forth until he steadied it in hands. Whereupon it then steadied itself providing an accurate, if somewhat shaky due to him being at sea, reading of the magnetic directions of the world.

Still heading east so that’s good I guess, he thought to himself with a smile as he put it away. Good to know that I didn’t catch a ride to nowhere.

Idly walking around the deck some more, Zephyr noted the slow and lethargic rocking of the waves before he made his way back into the lifeboat to pass the time and wait. Just like before the feeling of numbness overcame him and he could feel himself zoning out, hours passing by as if they were seconds to him before he eventually woke up.

However, rather than suddenly focusing back into reality with nothing but the beige cover of the lifeboat to greet him, instead he heard the ruffle of the sheet being uncovered and a beam of light shining in his face moments after.

“What in the world?” said a voice in Equestrian behind the light as it quickly shone across him, noting his suitcase and the blanket that he was lying on. Behind her it was clearly dark and still night.

“Oh hi,” Zephyr said casually raising up a hand as he lay down on it. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” said the voice somewhat awkwardly as it moved for a second and revealed the face of a female gryphon. “Mind if I ask what you're doing here?”

“Oh just relaxing for a bit, seeing the sights, you know how it is” Zephyr brushed off the question. “I’m doing fine, if you're wondering, how about you?”

“I’m doing alright?” the woman hesitantly answered as she unfurled the oil cloth fully. “Mind if you stop out for a bit?”

Zephyr compiled and as he did he watched the woman's face grimace in a mixture

“Something wrong?” he asked her as he took a moment to pat himself down. He was wearing a simple suit jacket, a white dress shirt, slacks, and shoes. “I’m not carrying any weapons if you're wondering, it’s just me, my suitcase, and that’s about it,” he emphasized by taking out the suitcase that he brought with him and giving it a quick shake. “See?”

“It’s uh,” the woman said as she continued to stare at him before gesturing with a thumb at her back, “you okay?”

“Hmm?” he said looking back noticing his misshapen and still crippled wings. “Oh, right that.”

Giving his wings a quick flap Zephyr could feel the sheer inertia that they had within their damaged muscles. It felt like he was moving them as if they were wet with pitch and oil. They didn’t hurt or anything, thankfully, but they were certainly unpleasant to look at due to their clearly misshapen and crooked nature. The noises that they made while they moved didn’t help things either.

Well guess I won’t be flying any time soon, he thought to himself as he reached back and pulled on his left wing like an elaborate kite. During which he failed to notice the woman's face in front of him quickly growing pale and green in response. Could probably still glide with this if I really needed to, but flying, no, probably not for a while that’s for sure. In the back of his mind a part of him was wondering why he was acting so casually towards the injury that he had but he ignored it.

“I’m fine if you're wondering,” Zephyr said eventually, folding the wing back before he began to scrounge around the lifeboat for his hat. It was a straw boater hat that had a sea green ribbon tied around it. He bought it once on a whim from some funny salesman that promised that it would make his life a lot easier. It didn’t give him magic powers or anything, but it did at least make his life easier by keeping the sun out his eyes and his hair from getting sweaty. Something that he had taken to tying in a loose pony tail for the sake of ease in the past few months because it was easier to manage that than the complicated hair bun he had before.

There was a significant pause as Zephyr stared at the woman and the woman stared at Zephyr, the beam of her flashlight focused on him.

“So, what now?” Zephyr asked hesitantly after another moment of awkward waiting. “Are you gonna arrest me or something?”

Startled by the question the woman only shook her head in response. “No, no, I’m just gonna,” she said, fumbling at her words before she pointed back to the bridge before sighing. “I’m just gonna head back to my position and before you ask me your fine, but do you mind if I ask you a few questions on uhhh,” she gestured towards Zephyr’s wings in a general manner. “Well that.”

“Sure,” he said with a shrug as he got out of the lifeboat and gestured for the bridge. “Lead away.”

Making their inside the woman settled into a padded swivel chair in the bridge, and of which was entirely abandoned save for her at the moment. The only evidence of anyone else inhabiting it at the moment was the odd clipboard scattered about at a nearby desk.

“Okay so first things first,” the woman began as she leveled an interrogative finger towards Zephyr, “ who are you?”

“Well I can tell you the truth or I can lie,” Zephyr rescinded with a shrug as he also took a seat in the chair facing her. Now getting a better look at her thanks to the light Zephyr was able to make out her features. She was a tall woman, somewhat muscled with gray feathers on her arms, and she wore a standard set of clothes that someone on the sea might wear accented only by oilskin trousers and rubber boots.

“The truth please,” she said as she massaged her forehead.

“Alright, so I'm not a spy, I'm not a soldier, I don’t work for the government, and I'm just looking to get out of Equestria while I still can,” Zephyr lackadaisically narrated off. “There's nothing special about me.”

“But I do know a bit about how to cut hair,” he added after a moment of thought with a smile. “So i’ve got that going for me. Does that answer your question?”

“I guess?” the woman accepted with a bit of hesitation before sighing again. “And the wings, what happened to them?”

“Oh, I got assaulted by a bunch of soldiers before I got here,” he answered with a nonchalant shrug and a dim smile. “I tried dodging the draft and it didn’t work out great.”

“Yeah I guess that would explain that,” the woman said, taking another look at Zephyr’s wings and noting the damage. “You're not feeling that by the way? Looks like it hurts”

“Not really if i’m being honest,” he replied with a shrug as he looked at his wings. The first night was painful, terribly painful, but ever since he got the compass from Discord they stopped strangely. He still couldn't really move them, but not feeling like he had permanently pulled a muscle and broken both of his limbs was a plus in his book. One whose origin’s he didn’t really need to think about or try to solve now as he suspected it had something to do with the compass.

“Huh,” the woman hummed as she processed the information that Zephyr had told him. “So you're leaving because of that?”

“More or less,” Zephyr answered with a gesture of his hand in a so-so motion. “There are other things, but being forced into the draft and getting my wings broken was one of the big ones.”

“Good to know, good to know” the woman repeated looking at the floor and sighing.

“Something wrong?” Zephyr asked, noting a bit of hesitation from her.

“Oh, it’s uh…it's nothing,” the woman mumbled out tiredly before she rubbed her eyes for a moment. “It’s just I didn’t expect to see myself on the other side so soon.”

“On the other side?” Zephyr said, raising an eyebrow. “Something happened with you back home like me?” he said taking a guess that she had left hers from the way she talked being on the other side.

“Sort of?” she answered, spinning in her chair for a moment. “Just a lot of things back home were happening, most unpleasant, and I needed a way out to make sure I didn’t get caught in it. I’m sure you know how it is.”

Zephyr nodded in understanding. He certainly did know.

“So you hitched a ride on a boat to get to The Isles?” he guessed, gesturing back in the direction of his hiding place.

“Yeah pretty much,” she answered, taking a moment to stretch her right arm.. “But Instead of being hidden in a lifeboat, I found myself stuck in a shipping container for about a week. It wasn’t pleasant, let me tell you that.”

“It certainly doesn't,” he said with a light smile. “How did you get in there?”

“I had some help along the way to get there unlike you,” she said with a shrug. “They paid off some workers, got me into one of the shipping crates filled with gems, and stuffed me into a dark place for a week. When I eventually got out, I was in The Isles.”

“Huh,” Zephyr mumbled to himself. There was already someone helping people like him getting out of countries that were plagued by war? Why hadn’t he heard about it before? Probably because he never displayed an interest in it or really left his sister’s home following the incident, but still, it would have been something nice to know about if he could.

“Do you know this person?” He asked her, shifting in his seat to adjust his position all the while.

“A little?” the woman hazily answered with a so-so motion from a hand. “Heard about her when I was talking to a few friends about getting out of town and she came up. They said that she could help if I sent in a few letters. I was dubious at first, but I decided to take the risk and here I am now,” she finished waving around the bridge she was in. “I’m a sailor on a cargo ship named The Talon ferrying goods between The Isles and here.’

“It’s good paying work,” the sailor continued with a half-smile that quickly deflated as she flicked one of her fingernails on the metal counter. “It just wasn’t what I was expecting to do when I got here.”

“What do you mean?” Zephyr said, raising an eyebrow. “Sounds like you’ve got it pretty good from what I just heard. You have a good paying job and you're not a soldier right now stuck huddling in a trench in some terrible war. What’s so bad about that?”

“Well not really?” the sailor said with some hesitation in her voice and the expression on her face accenting it. “Honestly apart from that it just feels like I swapped the problems I had back home for new ones here. With problems like the lack of infrastructure, the feeling of being an ant compared to the giants that are around here, modern appliances being rare unless you're in one of the few towns that have it, and the fact that I’m a nursing student who is apparently working as a sailor now.”

“Really?” Zephyr said somewhat surprised by the last fact. “Isn’t it easy to find a job if you're a nurse?”

“Oh, easy as pie once you finish the schooling. With the way the world is right now you’ll find easy employment in the medical field,” she confirmed. “But that’s the thing, you’ll need to finish your schooling first.”

“And let me guess,” Zephyr said, waving a hand in the air. “No schools around to help you with that and you left mid-way into your degree with little to no cash to spare?”
‘ “Yep,” she answered him before shaking her head in dismay. “Turns out when you're in a backwater country right between two continents you tend to have a hospital or two so anyone sick mid-flight or on a boat trip can take a stop to ship you in, but for anything else like a functioning education system? Yeah no, apart from the one in the capital and the small one in the port that’s all they've got, and those just do basic stuff like math and learning Equestrian. Anything else and you have to pay a high premium in fee’s so you can do it from here.”

“And like everywhere else in the world without a job you can’t make cash,” she continued lounging in her chair now and breathing a sigh. “And without cash you can’t live, unless you want to live in the countryside hunting beasts, drinking spring water, and living like a hobo until you die from some weird berries you’ve eaten.”

“My guess that's not an option for you?” Zephyr inquired with a mirthful look on his face. “Sounds like you’ve got the muscle for it at least.”

“Hehm well thank you for the compliment,” she thanked him with a half-hearted smile as she took a moment to flex one of her arms revealing a well-toned physique. “You tend to have this when you have nothing to do with your spare time except lift weights.”

“Heh, I guess,” he said looking around the room, noticing that it was quite barren apart from the instruments around that supported the bridge’s function and the few items that he saw from before. “Yeah, it doesn't look like there's much to do around here for fun.”

“Pretty much,” she agreed with him. “When you're stuck in a place like this you're either writing letters, doodling, reading books, sleeping, or exercising. Give it enough time and you’ll find that you’ll be doing work for fun or just to pass the time.”

“Mhmh,” Zephyr hummed in acknowledgement as he idly looked at the machine and noted the dials and buttons for a minute. “So you took a job as a sailor on a ship to make the bills?”

“More or less,” she confirmed with a nod, rolling up her sleeves and taking a quick glance at the window and watching the heavy waves assault the boat. “It pays the bills, I have something to do to pass the time, and when I have enough cash from this job I can go back to school. Sure I’ll have to start from square one again but hopefully this time it’ll be easier and I’ll have a chance to finish it this time.”

“So what about you?” she asked Zephyr, shifting her head back towards him. “Are you planning on staying once you get there?”

Zephyr was about to answer the question but his face slowly morphed into one of doubt as he thought it over. Would he? Equestria was right next to The Isles so if it fell there was a chance the war would spill over to The Isles. But everything could be fine in the end if he did stay. Equestria could rally, they could beat back the changelings, and everything would be fine. Sure things might be different from the effects the war would have on it but things would more or less be the same.

But it also couldn't, Equestria could fall, hard, hard enough that maybe the conflict would spill across the world. The queen, leader, or whatever ruled the changelings ambitions not seeing one continent to be enough.

It was better not to take a chance. Just keep going, see the sights while he still could in this place, enjoy a bit of time here, and the moment he could leave, take it. Better to play it safe than not when his life was on the line.

“I’m not sure. I might just keep going and see if I can get out of here while I still can. A part of me thinks that I could stay if everything here was alright, but I'm pretty sure that a hair cutter like me can’t find much work around here,” he said diplomatically to the sailor before making a cutting motion with his fingers. “Not like dragons grow a lot of hair, you know?”

“Well, if you do stay, that friend I mentioned might help with that,” the sailor said, taking a moment to stand up and stretch. “Would you be interested in learning more?”

Zephyr answered yes and the sailor shared with him the information. The sailors' benefactor was someone by the name of Ms. Coffin, she was a dragon, and she ran a private bed and breakfast at the port. One that in earlier times mostly serviced rich clients, but now had taken to giving smuggled refugees a place to stay. At least enough for her and whatever group she worked with to help them get back on their feet.

Zephyr thanked her for the information and was going to make his way out and to his hiding place before a question hit him.

“Mind if I ask your name just in case she asks me how I heard about her?” he asked, looking back from the door.

“Oh right,” the sailor said, rolling her eyes and giving her forehead a light slap. “The names Grayfeather, what’s yours?”

“Zephyr,” he answered, refusing to give the last part of his name just in case. “I’ll see you around.”

“See you,” she said with a smile and waving him goodbye as he moved away from her line of sight.

From there Zephyr made his way across the rust covered deck before he navigated his way across the rolling deck of the ship back to his hiding place to wait out the rest of his trip.

The next and the last day from there was easy. The ship had arrived at port in the morning and from there it was just a matter of waiting for the ship to dock, the workers to unload the cargo that they had, and from there to slip out. He was able to easily sneak out of his lifeboat with his suitcase in tow and slip away into the town during the night. There were a few guards around keeping watch, but with how sleep deprived they looked, all he had to do was just try not to make too much noise.

From there it was just a matter of following the directions that he was given to find Ms. Coffin. He couldn't see much of the space around him or make out many details due to how dark it was, nor could he read the street signs that were around to help him navigate, but he could follow directions if they were given.

A few blocks down this way, a few blocks down that way, pass by a large house, and it’ll be the second one with a wire fence on it, Zephyr repeated the instruction in his head as he arrived at his destination with a smile. True to Grayfeather’s words it definitely looked like a bed and breakfast, a modern one as well. With it being two stories high, made from heavy and thick lumber that was painted navy blue, and featuring a manicured lawn, it was a sign of modern convenience and luxury even in today's age.

With a smile he walked past the gate, knocked on the door, and waited for a bit. Soon after there was the sound of a knock before a voice on the other side said, “who is it?” a voice said. It was in a language that Zephyr didn't know, draconian, but one whose meaning he could certainly clue out to based on the information that he was given by Grey Feather. Remembering a phrase and what it meant was a lot easier than knowing an entire language.

“Nobody,” he said in Equestrian, remembering the phrase that Gray feather told him. “Just someone looking for some help that came on a violet wind.”

A moment later, a woman in her mid 20’s dressed in a terry cloth long sleeve shirt with a pair of ordinary jeans answered the door. Pinned to her breast was a simple metal symbol of a violet colored gust of wind accented with petals against a silver background. Her outfit was neat, orderly, and made for an office worker starting their day. The prime of perfection that any supervisor would approve of in the modern workplace today.

However their eyes and their demeanor spoke differently. Their hair was greasy, their eyes were sunken with sleep deprivation barely able to see more than a few feet ahead of them clearly, the dark scales that they had for skin were dull and stained slightly with ink, and her thin frame bobbed back and forth from the clear effects of coffee.

“A little late for someone like you to come around,” she blearily yawned out before rubbing her eyes in an attempt to work some energy into herself. ”Luckily for you I was working on a few things during the night. Come on in and make yourself comfortable so we can get the paperwork sorted out later.”
With a wordless nod Zephyr entered the house with his suitcase in hand as Ms. Coffin unceremoniously stumbled her way back inside. Hopefully this goes well, he thought to himself. Would hate to hit a setback this early in my trip already.

Chapter Two: Violet Wind

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Chapter Three: A long day at The Northern Port

Okay, what to do, what to do, Zephyr thought to himself as he sat at a bench in one of the town’s open streets as he looked at the travel guide. It had been a few hours since he had left Ms. Coffin’s house and after wandering around for a bit he had grown bored. Seeing the sights, and checking out the place was nice and all, but it would be better to have something to do,

So, the question was, what then? The travel guide didn’t exactly advertise any tourist destinations to visit. Instead, it only had directions for local markets, basic instructions on various phrases to keep in mind, who to swap currency with, where to get papers, and a few people that he could go to if he needed a job. None of which exactly felt interesting or fun to do at the moment.

“Well not sure what I expected to be honest in hindsight,” Zephyr muttered to himself as he flipped through the book noting the contents. “This book is meant for people wanting to stay here, not wanting to take a joy ride through the place.”

However there was something in that book that did interest Zephyr’s second go around through it, and that was what was within the shopping district of the northern port market the artisan shops. A set of shops that the book described had existed for millennia throughout The Isles and whose workers were focused on quality and perfection above all.

When the dragons learned of the foreign techniques that in turn produced bronze, silk clothes, glass sculptures, weapons, and more, a few of them sought to master them. They proclaim that as dragons are the fiercest creatures in the world, their wares, and their goods should match them as well. “The clothes that a king should wear should be the finest above all, and who better than he to craft them himself,” was a common saying among them when asked on why they pursued their craft.

Nicknaming themselves artisans’ these enigmatic dragons threw themselves into their newfound interest with gusto and vitality. Dedicating their hoards and countless hours of their lives so they may learn the secrets of their chosen trade and thereby perfect it. They did not have much in the way of tradition nor apprenticeships or the like that many other countries had, but still, they endeavored, learned what they could, and they advanced it in the ways that they could. Making goods and relics that the book would say would put any other to shame.

And all the while they had survived when The Isles had opened itself formally to the world, and the flood of cheap and mass-produced goods from the outside world wiped out lesser workshops and trades. The source of which the book explained came from their reputation and influence. One source proudly stated that it was them who had created The Bloodstone Scepter, the staff of office for the Dragon Lord. The symbol of which represented dragons across The Isles, and perhaps across the entire world as they formally gave their permission to the wielder so they may rule them. A hallmark for their craft and trade that signified their importance to dragonkind.

However, the sands of time had worn them down long before the opening of The Isles the book lamented as Zephyr read through it. While they still held the prestige that had so long ago, their numbers had dwindled throughout the ages. With their workshops and their rank and file dwindling to less than a hundred. Thanks to this the book explained that in the past century, they’ve had to take on non-dragon apprentices to fill their numbers as fewer and fewer dragons became interested in the artisan tradition.

Nonetheless, the book explained that they persisted with a small number of their shops located throughout The Isles. One of which, a metalsmith’s shop, was within the northern ports and nearby from where he was. Originally a blacksmith’s shop it was converted in the past few decades to accommodate the metalsmiths trade as a whole in time due to the artisan’s ever dwindling numbers.

“Well I guess I'm heading there first,” Zephyr said to himself as he noted the directions, grabbed his suitcase, stood up, and began to make his way to it. “Hopefully they’ll still be there when I arrive.”

The sounds of hammers on metal, the clinking of tools, the grumbling of workers, and the waves of heat were the first things that greeted Zephyr when he made his way to the artisan’s shop. And the first thing that came to his mind was that it was a strange place, especially from any other metalsmith shop that he saw back in Equestria.

The shop itself was made entirely out of stone, but not made of stone that was quarried and made into tiny uniform bricks stacked together like many people would ordinarily do. No, instead the walls, the floor, and even the ceiling itself felt like it was carved entirely out of a single block that was then polished together. The only evidence even suggesting that it wasn’t was the tiled floor made from a mosaic floor.

All the while, the shop itself was strange to look at from a distance much less be within. The place itself felt both large and small, like at one moment it was tall as a castle, and the next like it was an ordinary shop no taller than any other. A tile seen from within could be the ordinary distance for a man one moment and at the other, it could feel like it was made for a giant.

Nonetheless, the shop’s front was mostly empty at the moment. Only a few people within the place and idly looking at the finished goods that were on display and placed within the cabinet: hammers, jugs, nails, small statues of people, cups, chains, dice, harps, swords, shields, pieces of armor, and more.

The place itself felt like it had everything that one could imagine within it. With the quality and the materials used in those crafts being almost impeccable and bordering on the supernatural. A metallic harp for instance that was kept on a display rack could be as light as a feather, its strings made from solid steel that felt like they were made instead from ordinary animal gut, and still only weighing less than a few pounds. A remarkable achievement that could be seen as a potential magnum opus from an instrument maker.

But there was a sort of disquiet in the air. The only one attending the counter, the attendant, was an outsider. A small man, an earth pony who frantically stood still, hardly talked or even moved at all except to do transactions, and who did his very best not to look behind him. With the sweat on his brow and the look in his eyes mirroring that of a small rabbit answering the call of nature knowing they were watched by a hungry wolf. They didn’t even spare a glance as Zephyr made his way through to watch what was going on in the background, and neither did they when out of curiosity Zephyr stepped behind to see what was going on with the smiths.

And the moment that Zephyr made his way behind the counter and towards the back, it was almost like entering a dream or falling half asleep. The distance between the tiles and the floor stretched more and more and more like a rubber band being pulled to the breaking point. Being in this place set him on edge, it made the vision in his eyes hazy, and it scratched parts of his brain and the inner parts of his skull that he didn’t even know existed until now.

But yet strangely it felt ordinary. Zephyr didn’t know why, perhaps it was his time with Discord while he hid away from the world in his sister’s home that made these things ordinary now. After all, waking up one morning to find yourself floating and having to stitch yourself back together certainly made for a unique perspective on the world. One where the extraordinary and the unfamiliar now felt mundane.

Nevertheless with one foot in front of the other Zephyr made his way through and into the back where he could watch the work happen. Opening the door that insulated the front of the shop to the back.

When he did, the first thing that greeted Zephyr was a rush of air followed by a wave of heat. The workshop room was full of metalsmiths each working away at their forges, anvils, and projects. Nearly all of them were dragons, but there were a few of them who weren’t: gryphons, diamond dogs, and even a kiren were among their numbers. They all worked studiously, and efficiently, and paid little attention to their surroundings. For example, one was focused on crafting a small silver sculpture of a knight, another was working on inscribing a carving into a bronze knife, and the next was creating a set of iron armlets. And nearly all of them had a hearth, an anvil, the tools appropriate to their craft, a set of metal ingots next to their feet, and a table full of finished goods.

Wanting to see the work being done Zephyr got closer to one of them, the knife maker. Someone that was around Zephyr’s height if only more muscled with a broader build. But as he got closer he noticed something about the knife maker was off. Not only were the craftsman's eyes glazed with a gray hue, but their motions were stiff and robotic. Enough flex and give to slowly shape the knife through the swing of a hammer, but nothing more than that. It was as if they were dead to the world.

Tap, tap, came the sound from the small hammer that the knife maker wielded as they slowly shaped the knife that they had. Zephyr watched for a moment as they worked.

Tap, tap, tap, continued the knife maker as by bit the edge slowly came into shape. And all the while they neither paused to breathe, fidget, or even move from their work.

Zephyr poked the man’s side out of curiosity. Because at the moment it felt like more watching a machine work than a man, but he got no response from the knife maker.

Tap, tap, tap, continued the rhythmic hammering of the knife makers as they pounded away. They stopped for a moment to inspect it as the knife they worked on slowly cooled down.

“Uhm, sir, you alright-” Zephyr tried to speak to the knifemaker, but was interrupted as the smith held the knife they worked on in front of them and blew a stream of red fire onto it, the direction of which was in Zephyr’s direction. A quick sidestep saved Zephyr from being blasted right in the face with dragonfire, but not fast enough to not feel the heat on his skin or clothes as hot embers touched them.

“Gah!” he yelled out as his clothes caught fire. “Really man?!”

The smith for his part refused to respond. Instead hammering away at the knife like it was the only thing they knew much less cared about it.

“Alright, guess I'm not getting anything out of that,” Zephyr muttered to himself as he patted out some flames on his clothes before looking around the room. “What now?”

Looking around him he could see the same scene that he had just encountered unfold all around the workshop hall. Smiths robotically worked at their post, heating their projects with the fire that they had within them, and only putting it in a hearth when they were finished. Those who weren’t dragons simply held them up to a nearby open pipe that was connecting to the hearth to heat them before they continued.

An inspection of the hearth that the smiths had yielded something Zephyr had never seen before. Because none of the hearts had charcoal or coal inside of them. Instead, they simply had a pile of lime and coke that were heated by a series of hot air pipes.

And where did these pipes connect to or get their heat from? He didn’t know. The only thing he could suspect was that whatever they were fueled by was hot enough to heat metal and that they were seemingly ceaseless and inconspicuous. Because recalling his memory he didn’t spot a cellar or the like that could lead to a boiler room.

Well I guess I guess that’s the end of that, not sure what else to do here, to be honest, Zephyr thought to himself as he watched the scene play out in front of him. Smiths would work on their project, they would heat it either through one of the nearby pipes or through their breaths, they would continue, and when they finished they would simply place it in the hearth or they would put it on the table beside them. Only stopping to fetch another set of ingots from the pile next to them to continue.

Might as well make my way out while I still ca- Zephyr’s thoughts were cut off as he could feel someone grabbing him by the torso. Someone whose hands were so large that they could treat him like a little doll, an elder dragon. The few dragons that had lived to be older than mountains with the size to match, and this one was no exception to the rule. Because if an outsider were to look at the dragon that now held Zephyr they could probably match it up to around thirty feet tall.

But still, somehow they managed to fit in the space that Zephyr was within, and like before the strange feeling that he had from before not only came back but intensified. The very space that was within the metalsmith workshop stretched and changed itself to accommodate both at the same time. One in which the dragon could be seen as the size of a man for one second and in the next become a giant. The effects of which coupled with the act of being treated like a doll left Zephyr utterly stupefied and disoriented.

He could do nothing but watch as the elder dragon simply looked at him with the same glazed look that its fellow craftsmen held with an eye that was bigger than his chest. Back and forth, back and forth, the elder dragon turned Zephyr around looking for something with the expert eye of a jeweler until it stopped when Zephyr was on his back Until finally with a delicate touch, it plucked three feathers from Zephyr’s back before it dropped him without ceremony..

Zephyr on his part grimaced as he quickly unfurled his wings with a snap and slowly glided down to the ground to save himself from breaking his legs on impact. All the while ignoring the feeling that permeated throughout them as though they were as stiff as wood and heavy as pitch and tar.

By the time he had arrived on the ground and looked back, he noticed that the dragon had already left. Already mumbling to themselves about something in a language that he couldn't tell, but to which he could identify one thing. Whatever they were saying was something that could be compared to a breath of relief. Like someone who's been holding their breath for ages and could now let it go and breathe.

Zephyr for his part didn’t stick around to see what they would make from it, as within a few moments he was already collecting everything he had and was running out the door. He didn’t want to get his wings plucked more than they were already, and only he stopped for a moment when he heard a voice behind him speak, “They’ve always been like that.

“Huh?” Zephyr blurted out, stopping in his tracks, turning around, and seeing the man who was manning the counter staring at him with hollow eyes. They looked more like a mannequin now standing behind the counter than a living man.

“They’ve always been like that,” the man repeated in a language that Zephyr knew wasn’t Equestrian, but was certainly something that he could understand. “I don’t know why they act like that, but as far as I know they’ve always been like that day in and day out. From the moment I swap out for whoever was taking the night shift to the moment I leave, they are always working and never stopping.”

Zephyr only stared at the man in sheer befuddlement.

“It isn’t limited to dragons either,” the attendant numbly continued. “Ponies, gryphons, diamond dogs, kittens, and the many variants of humanity that are in our world aren’t immune to whatever is going on with them. The few apprentices that they have that aren’t dragons act just like the rest. Probably worse as I've had to drag a few of them out to and to a nearby hospital when they collapsed on the ground.”

“But why?” Zephyr found himself saying. “Why would they do that to themselves?”

“ For perfection and The Magnum Opus. When they reach into the depths of whatever they are in, the only thing that matters to them is perfection and their magnum Opus,” the attendant robotically answered. “To them, nothing else matters, not even their lives.”

Holding out a shaky finger they gestured towards the door that was now closed. “I advise you to leave this place while you still can,” they said,” before you get turned into someone’s next…masterpiece.”

Zephyr only gave a hesitant nod before he did, numbly staggering out the door and into the streets of the northern ports. The attendant for his part continued to stare back out and into the streets. Still standing, still unmoving, and he swore not even blinking the entire time that he had been there.

What the hell just happened there? Zephyr asked himself as he sat on a bench an hour later. Was it magic? A supernatural effect? Some type of curse or a disease? Something was certainly going on in there, but to what effect and why he didn’t know.

You know what better not to ask questions like that, at least not now, Zephyr thought to himself as he shook his head to recollect himself before he brought out the travel guide he had and looked through it. Let’s go to another place, something more sane for once.

The decision after some time of flipping through it was a scrimshaw shop. A shop that the book explained sold the carved or engraved remains of dead animals for sale, had stood for over a hundred years, and had an attendant that could speak Zephyr’s language. The book even provided a set of sketches in the form of a set of bone earrings made from the remains of a local sea monster. All the while helpfully providing the general directions on how to find it. The only thing that the book didn’t explain was that the shop wasn’t just limited to dead animals.

“I uhm,” Zephyr stuttered out as he stood outside of it and stared at the human remains on display outside of the store. “That’s new.”

Bones, teeth, horns, and a variety of wares were on display through the shop's display window and cabinets. Each piece that was on display within the store was Intricately carved and decorated to suit its subject; whether it was a weathered Abyssinian skull that had flowing patterns of ribbons and flowers set into it, the horn of a Kirin that had the colored depiction of a Nirek set into it, or the teeth of a dragon with the stylized depiction of a knight. They were fit museum pieces that could belong in an art gallery if not for the macabre material that they made out of them.

Or I guess more, Zephyr thought to himself as he walked through the door, maybe more to be honest. Art collectors are always looking for what’s fresh and weird these days.

And walking through the open display cabinet Zephyr saw the assistant that the travel book advertised. He was a griffin, well built and heavily muscled with open sleeves covered in scars, wearing eyeglasses with a thin iron frame, and only one wing on their back, their left wing. They were currently polishing a necklace in their hands with a rag behind the counter when Zephyr went through the door.

“Uhm hello?” Zephyr greeted the assistant with a hesitant smile as he made his way through. “Uhh nice display you’ve got there, “

“Thank you,” the gryphon replied in Equestrian as they resumed polishing the item that they held in their hands.

A beat of silence ensued between the two with Zephyr awkwardly looking at the gryphon as they continued working and the gryphon more than content to do their work than chitchat. During this Zephyr mentally berated himself for not coming up with a plan of what to do when he arrived. He came in, he wasn’t chased out, and now what? Look around.

He did, there wasn’t much that interested him after a quick look through of the place. Just skulls, bones, necklaces, knives, and more each decorated with what he would admit to be lovingly made patterns. Whatever hands that made it were skilled, he did not doubt that, but even with their unique patterns and material nothing seemed to interest him. At least not nothing that he would be willing to buy, Too macabre for something like him and he had a feeling that his sister or his parents would freak out if they saw him wearing cufflinks made of someone's teeth.

Eh maybe not flutter’s, he thought to himself as he remembered that she dabbled in taxidermy once or twice in the past. She might appreciate it, I dunno.

So Zephyr just watched the gryphon work as they continued polishing the necklace that they had in their hands. The necklace itself was quite simple, it was just the tooth of what Zephyr could guess to be some sort of shark that had one of its surfaces polished smooth and then the image of a castle on it. All the while the gryphon themselves didn’t seem to mind as they simply turned the necklace up and down in their hands as they took a rag and idly polished it.

Another awkward beat ensued between the two and some time passed as Zephyr watched and the Gryphon polished. During this, someone came in, saw what was happening, and quickly left just as they came with. The two nonetheless continued, the gryphon working, and Zephyr watching, and it wasn’t until they finished that they looked up.

“Do you need something?” the gryphon asked, breaking the silence as they finished polishing the knife that they had in their hands. “You’ve been staring at me working for about five minutes now.”

“Oh uhm, yeah,” Zephyr said, somewhat startled. “I was just wondering if you could help me look at some things and answer some questions. I just arrived here and I was wondering if you can help me understand what this store is about.”

“Yes, I suppose I can do that, “ the gryphon answered with a sigh as they put down the necklace into a small box behind them. “Where would you want to start?”

“Well anywhere to be honest,” Zephyr said with an awkward smile as he looked around at the wares that were on display. “I don’t know what’s going on in this store so some help would be appreciated.”

The gryphon merely nodded as they moved from behind the counter that they worked to the middle of the store and from there to a scrimshawed femur. It held the inked depiction of a knight in heavy armor slaughtering their way through an entire regiment in gory detail. All the while a squadron of his allies followed closely behind him waving a banner.

“Well, I suppose to start this explanation off, do you know what scrimshaw is?” the gryphon asked Zephyr with a raised eyebrow.

“Sort of?” Zephyr said as he scratched the back of his head and followed the gryphon to the femur. “I’ve heard of it before, at least when I was back in college. Something about people carving designs on pieces of bone?”

“You’ve got it more or less,” the gryphon said with a nod. “Hunters or bone pickers would go through the remains of animals and carve designs onto it. With The Isles’s inhabitants doing so because of the ability to use their scales and in turn the creatures here.”

“However,” the gryphon said, turning on a dime and looking at Zephyr. “What I’ve said pertains to dead animals, this for example,” he said waving a hand over the femur. “Is the remains of a dead person. Something like this isn’t exactly so I want to ask you a question before I go any further. Why would a dragon do such a thing?”

“To humiliate them I guess?” Zephyr answered with a shrug as he quickly looked at the femur. “Seems like something someone would do to their enemy.

“You’ve got it half right,” the gryphon said with a nod. “In the past, dragons that had killed their enemies would pillage their remains and turn them into totems. Totems that would depict the victor triumphing over their enemies while humiliating them.”

“However this is not always the case,” the gryphon continued, pointing to the femur. “Instead some bones are taken from their enemies upon their defeat and totems are made from their remains in veneration. This bone for instance belonged to a proud Gryphonian knight that existed several hundred years ago. One who had dared to hunt an elder dragon that plagued his homeland. A dragon who was said to be invincible, peerless, and as old as the mountains themselves. With his lance in hand, he set out to slay it.”

“Did he win?” Zephyr asked him out of curiosity, interrupting the gryphon.

“No,” the gryphon answered with his eyes downcast for a moment. “He lost. He died with his body torn in two, his armor turned to slag, and his flesh gray and withered from exsanguination. A terrible death if I recall that left him screaming in pain as he died.”

“However,” the gryphon said, raising a finger. “The blows that he had inflicted upon his enemy earned him respect, for through their acts they showed to the world and his foe that they were not invincible and that they were as mortal as everyone else.”

“For that, they earned him the respect of the dragon’s rivals, who plundered the knight's remains upon the place they died and carved the designs that you see now onto it,” the gryphon finished with a wistful smile as he gestured to the femur.

“It’s beautiful, don't you think?” he said to Zephyr as his eyes looked at it with lust and envy. “Honestly I wouldn't mind the same thing being done to my remains when I'm gone. It would beat being burned in the ground and left to rot.”

“It’s uh…it’s something, to say the least,” Zephyr hesitantly replied with an unsure look on his face as he looked at it. It was good-looking, well-done, and one-of-a-kind. But to call it beautiful and to wish the same fate to be done to one’s bones when they died? That part he was unsure about. It took a certain kind of person to look at the femur of a man, one who Zephyr could guess died in agony and to call it not only beautiful but to wish that same fate upon themselves.

“So uhm, is this more or less the pattern for all of these things?” Zephyr asked as he waved a hand around the empty shop and wanted to change the subject. “You guys get a dead person with a story you like, you carve a design into it, and you sell it for cash?

“The ones that are from people I suppose,” the gryphon answered with a shrug. We try to avoid creating inscriptions that humiliate the dead within this shop. Especially with the clients that we have that donate their remains to us.”

“D-donated?” Zephyr blurted out both surprises and puzzles. “People donate themselves to this shop?”

“Oh yes,” the gryphon said with a toothy and yellowed smile. “We don’t get them often but we get them enough. I assure you that there are more than a few people in this world who would prefer to be turned into art rather than be buried in a plot of land forever.”

“I uhm…really?” Zephyr said in disbelief as he looked at the femur again. “I mean the idea is nice uh…guess, but who would want to wear something like that constantly with them you know?”

“Well, why do people wear lockets with pictures of their family? Why do people pass down necklaces and earrings that their ancestors wore to one another with the expectation that they should wear them?” the gryphon asked Zephyr before he provided them with an answer. “To remember them of course. What you see before you are merely one way of doing that, except this I suppose is a more direct method than others.”

Zephyr merely hummed in response as he looked at the store around him as a quiet between the two settled. Did people wear necklaces, rings, earrings, armbands, and more with the bones of their family on them?

It was a strange thought, but it was one that he could see working in the right circumstances. He knew people ate different food, wore different clothing, and buried each other differently, so in theory, it could make sense in a culture that supported it. Venerate your mother and father by having their remains carved into artistic pieces that you could hang around in your home. That or,...in this circumstance wear them with you in your day-to-day life.

But still…would they do this? It was a strange thought and in turn, one that irked him. Who was the first one to start it? Why did it catch on? Were there any alternatives?

Well only one way to find out, Zephyr thought to himself as he turned towards the assistant. “Do you know who started this and is this the only way that people venerate the dead?”

“I don’t know the first, but I do know the second,” the assistant answered as they took a moment to stretch. “This isn’t the only way people venerate the dead within The Isles, mummification and cremation happen as well. Some families take the dead and cremate them at hot springs where the ground is hot enough to melt flesh and render them into dust and ash. While others simply preserve them in a skeletal form, dress them up in the outfits that they used to wear, and have them around.”

“But nothing along the lines of burying someone?” Zephyr asked.

“As far as I’m aware…no,” the gryphon answered Zephyr. “Dragons aren’t exactly..apt for burials.”

“Why not?” Zephyr asked him.

“Well burying a twenty-foot-tall giant is kind of hard wouldn't you agree?”,” the gryphon answered him before snorting a bit in suppressed laughter

“Heh, I guess,” Zephyr said in reply at the mental image of trying to bury someone that was the size of a large hill, “that would be kind of hard.”

“So where did you learn all of this stuff anyway,” Zephyr asked him as he looked around the place. “You've been living with the dragons for a while?”

“No, I got here about a year ago and since then I've mostly been a recluse,” the gryphon answered him. “

"So how did you learn about it?” Zephyr pressed him as he took a moment to stretch. “You read about it in a book?”

“Yeah…you can say that,” the gryphon said with a nod. “I read most of what I know now on a treatise that a…mhm,” he hesitated for a moment before continuing with, “a librarian had?”

“A librarian huh?” Zephyr said playfully, raising an eyebrow. “Do they have a castle filled with books and lore stretching back to millennia?”

“More just an old hoard I suppose,” the gryphon answered with a shrug. “I can tell you their location if you want to know.”

Zephyr acknowledged with a nod beginning the gryphons instructions.

“They don’t live near any of the villages, towns, or cities so you're going to have to walk there,” the gryphon began. “There's a train that leads from this port to the mountain so get on it and get out when it stops at one of the villages. Once there, head southeast to the village’s outskirts and into the wilderness. Continue until you find your way to a large white tree and a trail should be there that if I remember leads you to their hoard.”

“Right, right,” Zephyr said as he tried to commit what the assistant said to memory, and after nearly forgetting what the assistant said when an errant thought settled into his head, he settled for simply scribbling it down in his travel guide.

“So you’ve been there before?” Zephyr asked as he reread what he had written to himself for a moment.

“Once and it was to get that treatise I told you about on the instructions from my employer,” the assistant answered, holding a hand to their chin in contemplative thought. “I haven’t been there since I got the book and returned it so I don't know if anything has changed since then.”

“I see well at the very least that’ll give me something to do while I’m here,” Zephyr said with a smile as he turned towards the gryphon. Thank you for the information sir…” he drawled on for a moment waiting for an answer.

“Stonetalon,” he answered with a roll of their eyes as they made their way to the door and opened it. “It’s Stonetalon if you're wondering. The next train leaves in about 4 hours from now I believe somewhere around noon. Now get out of here. I still have work to do.”

Zephyr left with a simple nod waving goodbye to StoneTalon as they gave a hesitant one in return as he left through the shop door and into the streets.

What to do, what to do, Zephyr thought to himself as he sat on his briefcase with his nose back in the travel guide. The next train was due to leave in about 4 hours from now. Four hours that he knew if he didn’t have something to do he was going to spend just staring off into space as he waited for the train station to arrive.

There had to be something that he could do to pass the time. Sure he could take a nap as a way to pass the time away, but he didn’t feel tired yet. And the idea of staring off into space like he usually did as an alternative just didn’t feel attractive to him for now.

Shame there isn’t much to do here though. Just grocery stores, ports, clothes, and most of the things that I can expect anywhere, he thought to himself as he idly scratched his leg and looked through the book again.

“Hmph well at the very least this looks like an option for now,” he said to himself as he passed through a page before stopping at it. The description of the book listed a fish market that sold the many products of The Isle’s fish industry. From whales to monstrous clams, sharks, ordinary mussels, octopuses, giant squids, and more. Thanks to The Isle’s unique ecosystem and location it was a varied home to wildlife that could be seldom anywhere else except for Mt. Aris.

“Well that seems like an option,” he hummed to himself with a smile as he noted down the directions before getting up and making his way towards it. “Never seen a whale filet before for sale, especially if what this book says you could buy them on the cheap here.”

The smell of sweat, roasted nuts, heat, sugar, salt, and rotting fish wafted into Zephyr’s nose as he made his way through the fish market. It wasn’t big by any means, at least not for someone that was twice the height of an average normal man, and neither was it special in for the activities that it had within it for an ordinary denizen of The Isles. People went in, they shopped, they bought fish, they bought snacks from the sweet stalls set up in the opening parts, and then they went on their way. It was a bit of a boring place on the surface to passersby.

But it made up for it entirely to Zephyr through its mere inhabitants. Because in this place both dragons and the variants of humanity talked and walked side by side. With each one deeply contrasting one another. Because at one moment you could see an ordinary-sized man carry around a bag of eels while at another you could see a dragon, one that was only twice the size of that eel carrier, happily carrying on their back a bag full of sugary sweets.

And that wasn’t the only part of it as well. Because if one looked at the contrast for a moment then they could identify a neat and separate identity between them both. One wore what could be presumed to be the native outfit of The Isles and the other in a more modernistic outfit.

Those that wore more modern outfits were often those that were the youngest, or working behind a counter. Those wearing the more modern style favored button-up or collared shirts, slacks, leather shoes, and often casual formal wear behind the aprons they wore. Plain and dutiful colors, grays and blues, blacks, and whites were the colors favored by them. In the end, the outfit that wore the modern style was simple and utilitarian, one that reflected the status that they were in as they adapted to the modern world around them.

As for those that weren’t, they wore what Zephyr presumed a dragon would have worn in their day-to-day life before they opened themselves up to the world. That being cloth pants or skirts, billowing shirts or vests, and often wearing hobnailed leather sandals or going entirely barefoot. The clothing was simple, it was rugged, and it fit the place of The Isles's tropical volcanic climate. Allowing anyone who looked upon them to see the colorful scales that they had on their bodies.

However, while the designs of The Isle’s native garb may have been simple, they were anything but when one went into decoration or material. Because intricate patterns made from vibrant colors or gilded thread were woven into it. Not enough to seem ostentatious or even gaudy, but just enough to ensure that whoever saw them would see what they wore as unique.

And, regardless of whether they were modern clothes or not, nearly every dragon wore jewelry: necklaces, bracelets, earrings, amulets, and especially horn decorations were worn by all. Some were made out of precious metals but most were made out of simple industrial ones like copper or polished bronze. A few horn decorations were even made out of bone, with those very ones almost always featuring intricate carvings upon them. Each has been carved and engraved with care to hold the depiction of some wyrm, event, figure, fish, or creature that he had never seen before.

I wonder if the outfits they wore will fully change into a mix or if it will Tartarus what is that thing,” Zephyr thought to himself as he watched the crowd before him shuffle and move before he was interrupted by the sight of what he could only describe to be a monster carried by a dragon on their back.

It was large with it being about the size of a small child, pockmarked and scarred with the same ones a veteran of war might have, and it had great chitinous growths jutting from its scales intertwined with a sort of phantasm-like thread that made up its whiskers. And what was was that somehow the creature still breathed; rasping and coughing as they strained for breath in its newly poisonous environment. All the while curious eyes looked at the world in a mixture of fascination and horror, utterly unable to comprehend what it saw, but knowing what was to come for it.

But nobody paid attention to the fish nor its plight, at least nobody that he could see. Everyone was too busy ogling over what was around them, what they had bought, and the snacks they had purchased. It was as if the fish was nothing stranger than someone buying the catch of the day.

He had to find out why, why something like this that would be considered an extraordinary event back in Equestria was entirely ordinary here, so standing on shaking legs and trying not to look at the growths that the fish had he made his way over to the dragon. Someone who was thankfully only a foot or two taller than him.

“Uh, sir, what is that…,” Zephyr nervously stuttered out to the dragon and pointed to the fish they had slung over his back when he made his way over.

In response the dragon only gave him a curious but confused look as Zephyr babbled on; the language barrier between him and the populace of The Isles resulted in their inability to communicate becoming once more apparent.

Right language barrier, Zephyr scolded himself when he noticed the fisherman’s confused and blank look.

“Uhh, right uhh, fish, where, did, you, get, it?” he hesitantly tried slowing his words and emphasizing the fish that the dragon bought in the hopes that they would understand.

Luckily they did. Whether it was from the way Zephyr both looked and tried not to look at the fish, the way he pointed at it or simply it being a question they had been asked before, the dragon answered Zephyr’s request by merely pointing in a single direction and walked away. Zephyr hoped that they answered their question and followed the direction the dragon pointed and walked deeper into the market.

Following the man’s direction, Zephyr made his way deeper into the market and noticed that the wares of the fish market had seemed to become stranger by the minute. In the opening sections of the markets, he remembered that he could see Blue Mackerel, red snappers, mullet, squid, crab, and the more ordinary fish that one could find in Equestria around the world inside. However, after a bit of time walking inside the market, the wares changed. Glowing octopuses stood side by side with whole sharks, dolphins, and what he swore to be a fish that was described as a living fossil by a book he read once, one that was said to have been extinct. It didn’t take Zephyr long to find the shop that he wanted.

It was a menagerie of the weird and the unusual all wrapped in a half-hearted capitalistic gesture to get someone to buy what was inside. In the stall one could see eel’s still dripping with acidic ooze and half-digesting themselves in the process curled up in large glass jars, large crabs that were taller than men and whose shells were made of a mixture of ceramic and iron that were covered in strange runes, and fish with scales almost like glass that still emanate sparks of magical energy. All the while in the center stood the corpse of a sunfish that served as a cover, one whose body was covered in chunks of ice.

The owner of the fish stall meanwhile was a dour and half-awake sailor sitting on a pile of scrap and smoking from a pipe. He was dressed in a rubberized coverall with a thin gray shirt and gloves and he stank of oil and blood. Wrapped around his neck was a small pendant carved entirely out of magical crystal that softly glowed in a purplish hue.

When Zephyr came to his stall, the fisherman lethargically pointed to his remaining stock before he went back to smoking. All the while puffing small fragrant puffs of off-colored smoke from his pipe and that which smelled like flowers mixed with the clean ocean sea.

With a nod to the man Zephyr took a look through the stall, eventually finding himself being drawn to a small creature about the size of his hand that was in a saltwater tank. It smiled in the way that a child could, even if fish could not smile, as it swam eagerly around the tank that it was in. The scales that the fish had were iridescent, its head was almost cleaved in half showcasing its innards to the world and revealing a set of large binocular-like eyes beneath a thin membrane that were too human to tell apart from an animal.

What a weird little thing, you never see this back home, he thought to himself as he lightly tapped on the glass, earning him an annoyed glance from the fish as he did so. However, before he could ruminate on the fish any longer, Zephyr heard the sound of a small bell coming from the fisherman, and at once the fish simply swam out of its tank and into the open air as if it had never left the ocean, its form becoming shrouded in an ethereal glow all the while. Swimming to the fisherman’s side when it was lightly petted by the man as it burbled happily, and from there it swam its way back into the tank before reentering it just as if it had never left it.

And in reaction to it, Zephyr simply stood in awe at the display. He’d seen magical illusions more times than he could count in his life, but he’d never seen it done by a fish and a magical one at that. Recovering quickly, he congratulated the display with a, “uhm, thank you!” to the fisherman with a few claps of his hand. The fisherman in response nodded to him with a smile before he went back to smoking from his pipe.

I wonder where that thing comes from, Zephyr asked himself when he went back to looking at the fish that were on display within the stall. as he tried to recall his failed anthropology lessons in the past for an explanation. Biology? Mutation? Maybe something with the climate? You don't exactly see these kinds of fish anywhere else in the world so why are they here and why?

He looked around for a second and saw a dragon that was twice his height casually dragging a shark on a board. A shark that he noted seemed to resemble an eel as it still caused sparks of lightning to arc harmlessly off of the dragon's open back.

Probably something in the water to be honest, Zephyr concluded as he took another look at the stall in front of him noting its wares before nodding to himself. Dunno what though, maybe crystals as they said to have a mutagenic effect or something? If I recall there was a study not that long back where The Isles had a bunch of volcanic vents spewing gem dust everywhere around it coupled with some deposits near their reefs. Maybe that would explain it?

He racked his brain for a bit more before he let out a sigh as he couldn't remember anything specific or truly concrete. Everything past his last thought simply became a blur of nonsense to him due to his lack of diligence in the class. Well, whatever, he thought to himself as he looked around his suitcase and grabbed it. It’s not like I'll be answering a question like that anyway by myself. I’m just a failed college student.

“Well…moving on I guess,” he hummed to himself as he fished out his compass and turned the sundial over. “I think I've spent enough time here that I should start heading back anyway. Hopefully, I can get back before they start collecting passengers>’

Nodding to himself Zephyr produced the travel guide that he had acquired from Ms. Coffin and consulted it before making his way over towards it.

The journey there was relatively uneventful but fruitful. Nobody bothered him, nobody accosted him, and apart from some mention of a boat sinking nothing happened. Things were peaceful.

When Zephyr arrived at the train station the first thing that he noticed was that the train station itself seemed makeshift. Once a partial moving area for an elder dragon’s hoard, it had been since converted into a train station by the order of The Dragonlord. The companions included a twin set of factories, a few warehouses to house goods along with coal, and a set of railroad lines.

Nonetheless, the place itself was treated with a set of reverence and almost awe by the denizens of The Isles. As signs and banners proudly directed nearby to marvel at the technological wonder that was within their state. The support staff that were within the building were helpful, with the few that were around being multilingual and happily taking any questions or requests that they were able to such as why was this place built, what was a train, what was it for, where was the bathroom, and stating that elder dragons and those that were thrice the height of a normal person were prohibited from riding the train.

But still, even with all of the pomp and circumstance and the odd reverence towards the train, it did little to detract anyone remotely familiar with the actual state of the machines within.

By the sun, how old is that thing? was the first thought that entered Zephyr’s head when he saw the train. It was an iron behemoth whose age clearly showed in its design. The locomotive pilot was made from painted wood rather than steel, its chimney was larger than any other trains Zephyr had ever seen in his life to the point that it resembled a chimney, its cabin was made entirely out of wood, and an all too nervous gryphon engineman stood in it nervously muttering a prayer as the train prepared itself for another run.

Is the train imported? Yeah, it has to be, I don’t think anyone even knows how to make stuff like that anymore, Zephyr mused to himself as looked at the brass and paint decoration on the locomotives and cars chained to the locomotive. Maybe some factory in Equestria sold it to them in exchange for crystals? No, I don’t even think any of the museum pieces I've seen before have had stuff that was this old. The seller has to be somewhere in the east that’s for sure.

Turning his attention to the station itself, Zephyr watched the crew at work as they escorted passengers on and off the cars. A few of them were dressed in a royal blue uniform that was prim and proper and reminded him of Equestria, but most of them were dressed in varying colors such as reds and greens, to grays and black. The only distinguishing mark between them all was a badge that had on it a train and the sense of authority that they had.

All the while the uniforms themselves varied in quality as they did in colors; someone whose uniform looked like it was machine-made yesterday worked side by side with someone who sewed their uniform by themselves in the dead of night with rags, and one who merely arranged a jacket and a set of trousers in the local colors. Rich, poor, experienced, inexperienced, kiren, zebra hippogriff, and more worked with one other side by side in their appointed duties. Between the strange awe that their passengers had coupled with the pressure of their duties, there was simply no time for anything else.

Ms. Coffin’s work? Zephyr thought to himself as he was escorted by a staff member inside a railroad car. Maybe, that or it’s that weird law she told me about earlier.

Looking around before he entered inside he spotted larger dragons, those that were twice the size of a normal man or more, being escorted into open-top boxcars near the end of the train that had rough metal benches welded inside. And while the boxcar was just as rough and makeshift as the train station was, it was still happily boarded by its passengers without much complaint. All of them eagerly talked amongst themselves in a language that Zephyr could not understand.

When he arrived inside Zephyr sat in the closest seat that he could find, one that was in the center, and took a seat on the padded chair before he looked around.

The cabin itself, although maintained by its staff with the cabin being perfumed, the food stains being scrubbed out, and any litter being thrown out was still a mess. All around him, Zephyr could spot cigarette burns on the wood around him, smoke stains on the cabin roof, and the padding on the chair being so thin he swore he could feel the maker's mark from the factory on what year the chair was made.

And the passengers weren’t any better in terms. The moment that the door closed the cabin erupted into a cacophony of noise as they talked to one another, argued, shared smuggled drinks, and did all of the normal things that one could expect the passengers on a public train to do. Which in Zephyr’s case meant that he had to listen to a married couple seated in front of him argue about something that he couldn't understand. All the while their child, a boy about the age of five, watched in a mixture of horror and awe as their parents were only one moment away from killing each other.

“Just like home,” Zephyr muttered to himself as he settled in his seat and began to wait for the train to start moving. “Just like home, except this time nobody’s trying to drag me out of the train and into a recruiting station for not being enlisted. Hmph, just like a home.”

Within minutes the train slowly began to move, making its way out of the train station. Looking outside once the train had left Zephyr could spot the rolling green hills of the surrounding area filled with thick woodlands, the minor puffs of ash erupting from the many volcanoes in The Isles, the distant silhouettes of dragons both large and small flying their way around, and in turn The Mountain, the capital of The Isles.

With luck the next stop will be as eventful as the first, Zephyr thought to himself as he settled in for the wait. Hopefully.

Author's Note

For just a little bit of information Zephyr has been through so many college classes, trade schools, and entry level jobs or positions that he's entirely lost count on how many he's done before or gone through. Because of that he has an idea for how a lot of things work, can probably rattle off an answer to most basic level questions he's asked, but never explain or really understand why that answer is the answer.

Otherwise he's smart, but he's lazy, a bit ignorant and naive, more than a bit self-loathing, and easily distracted while having a fear of failure on a level comparable to his sister at her worst. Something that isn't helped by the social mask that he wears that allows him to ignore his flaws and regrets or mistakes while believing his invincible. All of which culminates in him doing the same mistakes and things over and over again with no real sign of improvement whatsoever.
Hopefully that explains a little bit on him just in case. Anyway, the story continues!

Chapter Four: Old Regrets and Answers.

The sound of the train’s whistle refocused Zephyr back into reality with a gasp. Where was he? What time was it? What was he doing? And why did his arms, legs, and eyes feel so stiff? It had only been about a minute or two since he settled down to wait but the train had already begun to slow down as it made what he presumed to be the train’s first stop. What had happened to him since he had sat down?

Taking a moment to recollect himself and avoiding the startled stares from the people around him in the train’s cabin as they began to make their way out, Zephyr searched his person and suitcase for answers.

“Right okay, travel guide, passport, cash, compass, and a scribbled note on where to go from here,” Zephyr muttered to himself as he went through his things. “And oh hey, here’s the pocket mirror I brought from home, I wonder what I look like now.”

As it turns out, not that well. Dead and tired eyes with a gaunt face to match looked back to Zephyr as he looked at the mirror itself. His hair had grown long and unkempt with the only thing that kept it together was the loose ponytail that he now had, and the stubble on his face had grown into an unkempt beard. Both of which when combined gave him the impression of a homeless and dirty vagrant.

Yeah I guess that’s why Ms. Coffin was so nice to me along with the others, he thought to himself as he ran his hands through his face before sighing. The past worry that he had about his appearance had faded away long ago due to the circumstances that he had been through. They probably thought I was some sort of hobo or refugee down on their luck when they saw me. I wonder if the rest of me matches the descriptions.

Scooting a bit in his seat and closer to the window for the sake of privacy Zephyr reached underneath his shirt with one of his arms to feel his torso, and when he did he noted how easily he could feel his ribs. With everyone poking out from his flesh and feeling like they were stretching it out. One, two, three, four, five, feels like I'm running my hands across a xylophone.

He repeated the same process for his collarbones and shoulders and noted how thin they were with the lack of muscle they had. To anyone who looked at Zephyr since he had arrived, they would notice that while his clothes were clean and well kept, they now loosely hung on his frame in the same manner that a child would dress a scarecrow

Well, it is what it is I guess, he thought to himself as he closed the pocket mirror and put it away in his suitcase. I can probably fix this uh, he gestured a bit to his face for a moment before sighing and getting up to follow the crowd, well….eventually. Honestly, I should probably get off seeing as it’s my stop.

And looking around when he got off he was greeted by an array of houses aligned together near the train stop made from wood and stone. Some of which he noted were made for the size of people and made out of simple wood. Their walls and lawns are decorated with fountains, sculptures, and gardens. Most of whom he noted were reminiscent of the bone sculptures. In that, they often depicted triumphant dragons battling their enemies, greeting objects, and often standing triumphant. Those that weren’t had the strange effect that he saw before. With them

Hmph, he noted to himself as he looked at a fountain of a dragon nestled in a hoard of treasure and from the center of which spouted a geyser of water, guess the tradition of painting yourself in a good light isn’t just limited to bone carvings.

“But I’m not here to sightsee for now, “he said to himself as he got out the compass, noted the directions, and began to follow it from the village to its outskirts and beyond there into the forests. “Let’s see if Stonetalon was lying to me or not. Hopefully, he was, because if he did I’m not sis can save me this time.”

It was strangely relaxing going through the forest as Zephyr walked through it. His leather-soled boots crunched fallen leaves, twigs, sticks, and anything underneath his feet. The weather itself at the moment was mild with a faint overcast of clouds blocking the sun and a light cool coastal breeze to go along with it.

Nothing like home in the past few months, Zephyr thought to himself as he made his way over a heavy branch while holding his compass in one hand along with his suitcase in the other. Nothing like it at all with the acidic clouds we had when factories started overtime for the war effort and the drafts began.

With that thought Zephyr couldn't put out a scoff and a sigh. The glorious and peaceful past that Equestria had seemed so far away that it felt almost like a childish dream. Why? Because it simply felt so far away by now. Only a fool could imagine a world in which everyone lived in peace and harmony when they could only dream of it.

I wonder how Fluttershy is doing nowadays, Zephyr thought to himself as he skirted around a puddle. Probably still doing that research work she told me she was doing when she handed her house over to me to stay in.

He paused for a moment as a memory flashed through his head. The fatalistic shine in her eyes, the hollow tone in her voice, and the morbid fascination that she had now for science. She was different now, and something had done to her, but what it was exactly Zephyr didn’t know.

The only thing he had for a clue was the laboratory job that she had picked up during the war. The details of which he barely knew anything about. Only that her job was important, it ate her time, and it often left her exhausted beyond belief. Exhausted enough for her to start drinking for relief, heavily. Heavily enough that during the few times that she visited him, there was a good chance that she was plastered. Oftentimes rambling about quotas, targets, and a question that he did not have an answer to and still doesn’t today.

Well, I hope she’s okay in that lab of hers, Zephyr concluded his thoughts as he eventually saw the tree come into his line of sight. Hopefully when everything’s over she’ll be okay.

Coming across the tree he noticed that it was large, tall, and bone white, its stark paleness making it unique from its brethren. Surrounding it and on its base of similarly colored stones that eventually formed into a trail that led deeper within the forest. One that was thankfully shaded thanks to the thick branches and trees overhead.

“Hmph, well there's the trail I guess,” Zephyr said to himself as he took note of it. “I have the path, the time, and the direction, the only thing left to do is follow it. Hopefully, it won’t take too long.”

And strangely it didn’t. Zephyr took one step, then two, four, eight, sixteen, and so on until eventually time flowed like water and he suddenly found himself standing in front of the cave All the while feeling like he had just fallen asleep only to be rudely awoken mid-dream.

“Gagh,” he mumbled to himself as he looked around confused, and just noticed that he was in front of the cave that StoneTalon had spoken of. “Why am I here now? Didn't I just start walking moments ago?

Trying to make some sense of the newfound feeling and guided out of instinct he tried to recall the past, but they felt…loose on the matter. He could remember faint events happening as he tried to think about it: him stepping on branches, walking over boulders, looking at the shaded canopy provided by the trees, and dragging his suitcase along but not much else.

Overall it felt like he was talking to Discord or being around them back home. He barely remembers the days, of doing things, having things done to him, recovering from them, and not knowing why he was here or how to do them in the first place. Days, weeks, and he swore months could pass by through the time that he was there only interrupted by his self-loathing, demeanor at the time, and the occasional interruption from his sister.

“Hmph, probably Discord’s doing I guess,” he grumbled to himself as he shook his head awake before looking around at the cave, “honestly wouldn't put it past him with the things that he’s done to me.

Well at the very least it doesn't seem to be troublesome so far, he thought to himself as he looked around the cave’s entrance, Hopefully it doesn't get worse than the huh, well StoneTalon wasn’t lying I guess about the sculptures.

Looking around the entrance of the cave itself, one fit for a giant, Zephyr could see various totems and statues made from bone and stone littered around the base of the entrance. A few of the totems and statues were around Zephyr’s height, around five feet tall, most were ten feet, and others were larger being around fifteen feet tall or more. And that which featured garish depictions and caricatures of creatures being slaughtered wholesale in vivid and colored detail. For example, looking at one of the items near the entrance Zephyr could see a slab that was carved onto it was the violent death of an armored contingent of knights. With them screaming and wailing as a blast of dragonfire ran through their ranks melting their armor and flesh like wax.

“Hmph, a bit too morbid for my tastes, but I’ll give them points for getting the look of the flesh right, “ Zephyr muttered to himself as he looked at it before paying his attention to the mouth of the cave. “Thankfully there's more here than just sculptures of people dying.”

And there was, because looking within Zephyr could notice that the cave itself was almost made entirely of crystal. With multicolored spikes and spars of the material jutting from the floor, the walls, and the ceiling while they all gave a soft multicolored glow. The light coming off of them was enough so that he could ahead for a few but nothing more than that. .

Well at the very least I’ll be able to see my way through here, he thought to himself as he stood in front of the cave. . Find my way to the librarian, meet them, and then what?”
His mind came up blank. He made his way here on a train, stopped at a train, made his way through a forest to a tree, followed a trail, and for what? To check out a book? It wasn’t like he was going to be able to return it. To read? Maybe? But that didn’t feel right either. There were bound to be other libraries or librarians within The isles, ones that in turn were most likely

He shrugged. I’ll figure it out when I meet them, Zephyr thought to himself as he made his way into the cave. Out of curiosity, he touched one of the spars as he made his way through, and as he felt its warmth he could feel parts of him fade away.

Great not again, Zephyr thought to himself as he rubbed his eyes in an attempt to try to clear the static that was slowly dissipating now that he refocused himself sometime later. This is probably going to be a recurring thing isn’t it, he finished his thoughts with a sigh before he looked around the cavern to see where he was.

The place itself was carved from smoothed stone and lit with the same light that he could see earlier when he entered. It softly glowed and revealed to him a hoard fit for an elder dragon within cut or raw gems the size of his head or grapefruits, coins, and ingots made from precious metals, sealed jars filled with what Zephyr could guess to be spices or perfumes, flawless or incomplete statues of ancient historical figures whose names Zephyr could not recall, and countless trinkets and baubles from around the world.

The cavern itself, from what little Zephyr could see that wasn’t covered by treasure, was a beauty to behold and whose scale could only be described as monstrous. Its floor and walls were polished to shine and reflected the various colors from the treasure around it in a prismatic and unique display of colors, and its walls reached so high that looking up to see it made Zephyr dizzy.

But none of it did anything to obscure the figure that sat nestled within the center of it who was reading a scroll. An emphasis on was, as they now looked at Zephyr with the same curiosity a man might have for seeing a brave mouse walk around their home in broad daylight.

Their face and body were androgynous, with no marks or features lending them to be described to one gender or the other. But on that face, a thin scar wove its way across the center of their face nearly splitting them in half, and from it sprang ruin. Tremor lines and crack lines sprung from it and ran across their skin and underneath their scales and flesh as if they were dried earth and clay. Squinting for focus Zephyr could still see the faint hints of what he could suspect to be currents of molten rock still running underneath them.

Moving onto their clothing, they were clad in a simple pleated linen dress that ran to their feet and was dyed in a heavy dark gray. On their back, they wore a cloak made from silk whose shoulders were embroidered with bronze scales. They also wore jewelry made from precious metals from head to toe, from a simple set of earrings made from electrum, and rings made from gold, to engraved armbands and horn caps made from silver. All of which Zephyr could see held similar depictions that he saw at the entrance of the cave. And apart from that no flaw, no mark, and no blemish could be seen upon either their clothing or the jewelry that they wore. Nothing except for the faint smell of fresh ink, dust, leather, and wood.

A moment passed between the two with Zephyr looking at the librarian, or at least what he hoped to be them, and the librarian looking at him in return. Nothing happened, nothing ensued. Only a staring contest between a possibly millennial old being whose home was filled with treasure and a man who had little to no none.

“Uhm hello,” Zephyr said with a bit of hesitation as he waved a hand toward the distant figure hoping that they could see and hear them. “My name is uhh Zephyr, and I heard that you were a librarian of sorts and I was wondering if I could look through your collection or something!”

No response, instead merely the rise of an eyebrow from the dragon's face.

Geeze this reminds me of when I was in the artisan’s shop, Zephyr thought to himself as a few lines of sweat ran down his face, Hopefully I don’t get plucked this time.

“Well uhh, I’m gonna come in if that’s okay with you,” he offered up as he slowly walked inside the cavern with his left arm held up in a gesture of peace. “I’m not gonna steal anything if you're wondering, I'm not a thief, I'm just some random guy looking for someone to talk to, to maybe answer some questions, and hopefully read a book or two from.”

Seeing no opposition or response from the dragon Zephyr went in, carefully picking and hiking his way through the hoard as he made his way closer. All the while they simply watched them as they held their scroll in hand, only casting an occasional glance or two while Zephyr continued

Getting there was slow, it was a bit painful as he slipped more than a few times on an errant crown or scepter, but he reached it eventually. Making his through to a flat clearing of treasure where several scrolls, tablets, and stone carvings whose size fit the giant were around the place.

“Hmhmh, well uh scratch that last part,” Zephyr said when he finally reached the giant and pointed to one of the few items in the clearing that were sized for him, an ancient clay tablet that was written in a language that he suspected was older than modern Equestria. “I’m not sure I can do that last one unless you want to read what it says to me.”

“Not entirely at the moment," the elder dragon said with an amused smile in Equestrian as it gestured to the tablet that Zephyr pointed to. “I still have quite a lot of reading to catch up on ever since I woke up twenty years ago, so I wouldn't want to waste the time that I have now read,” they stopped for a moment and shifted their head slightly to look at it, “a tablet that describes how to make willow bark tea for you. I’m sure you know how to do that already.”

“I uhh…I guess so,” Zephyr replied with a slight grin and a nod thankful for the dragon’s response “Is there anything that you can do for me right now?”

“Well, I believe I can take a moment or two to answer a question if you have them,” they answered, rolling up the scroll that they held and putting it away to their side. “It’s been a while since I've had a visitor, so free to ask this old dragon whatever is on your mind.”

“Great!” Zephyr said with a smile that quickly dissipated as he realized he didn’t know what to ask the dragon. Why did he even come here in the first place anyway? Because he was bored? Plus what could he even ask them anyway? He still didn’t know what to ask as he didn’t exactly have the time to dwell on it. So what could he ask them? Where to go next? That question is better for a shopkeeper, not what he presumed to be a dragon that was over a few thousand years old. So what? Maybe the hoard? That was a good start, there were a lot of books, scrolls, and tablets like that in this place anyway. You weren’t called a librarian for nothing.

“Well, I guess my first question is, how did you get all of this stuff in the first place?” Zephyr asked as he pointed to the gargantuan pile of scrolls next to the dragon.

“Traded for it,” the dragon answered as they scooped up a handful of treasure from around their hoard before letting it spill from their hands. “There are a number of us who consider books and such to be items that are not worthy to be compared to gold and silver, and because of that they are willing to trade for it in return for more ordinary treasure.”

“I see,” Zephyr said as he took a moment to sit down and looked at a nearby pile of gold that was worth more than he would ever make in his life. Now curious as the old dragon tradition wormed into his head and with it brought curiosity. “Why do you guys collect treasure anyway?”

“Many reasons,” they said, scratching their chin in deep thought for a few moments. ”But I suppose a few to be noted is that it is non-perishable, it is clean, and it is sturdy. What treasure I collect here I am sure will be in the same state that they will be in a hundred years from now. Metal is imperishable after all and if I collected grain I would only attract rats and vermin.” If I collect grain then while they may not rot due to the influence that I have on this place, I am sure that they will attract all kinds of vermin to my hoard.”

“Mhmh I guess, “Zephyr accepted the answer begrudgingly. “But that doesn't explain it, you know?” he continued pointing around him. “ I mean I sorta get the idea of it is that you collect it so that you want to be rich and powerful, but there has to be something more to it than just…this you know?”

“I mean look around us!” he said, grabbing a jeweled crown that once belonged to a Gryphonian king and waving it in front of a dragon, “there's enough treasure here that I don’t even know what you can do with it apart from having the world’s most expensive bed! So is there something behind this hoarding and all?” Zephyr began to finish as he dropped the crown, “Or is it just me hallucinating that?”

The dragon only wearily sighed when they heard that, their entire body deflating as they took a look around them in contempt. Zephyr meanwhile stayed silent as he waited for a reply.

“Yes, that is a good question,” they mumbled to themselves before looking down at Zephyr. “It is one that I can partially provide an answer to, but it is a long one, would you be willing to hear it?”

“Go ahead,” Zephyr said as he made himself comfortable. “I’m not exactly going anywhere for a while.”

“Very well,” the dragon said as they looked around themselves for a moment before grabbing a scroll and unfurling a part of it to Zephyr. It showed a simple picture of a young dragon standing on top of a small pile of treasure proudly.

“To begin, I suppose let us start with a brief answer to the main thing,” they said, clicking their claws together. “Many of us hoard and aspire to gain treasure for the same reasons that you mortals may wish to do so. It benefits us because it is shiny, it gains us prestige, and of course, we can buy things with it. The industry and the wealth that we have here are dismal compared to say the South, the West, or the East who are all rich in comparison. Risking our lives and in turn the lives of others so we may become wealthy without much effort is natural for us.Especially if one wishes to stay independent, see the world, and make use of the natural talents that one has,” they finished momentarily puffing a thick cloud of ashy air and flexing a hand filled with muscle.

“Right, I get that,” Zephyr acknowledged with a nod recalling his lessons on why mercenaries or bandits became what they are. “But that doesn't answer the question of why so much wealth?”

“Raiding is expensive, it is costly, and it is risky,” they replied. “We dragons are long-lived creatures and thus we have a lot to lose if we were to die. Wishing to gain a lot of wealth to ensure that one is rich and powerful throughout it is a natural goal.”

They paused for a second sensing Zephyr’s slight frustration at the answer which didn’t feel like it answered a lot.

“I am sorry but I have no more answer to that question of why so much wealth,” they tried to explain with a look of insularity. “We gather wealth for the same reasons you gather wealth because we desire power and enough will never be enough.”

There was another pause between the two, with Zephyr’s face scrunching in frustration, and the dragon looking somewhat bashful and embarrassed for a giant. It was clear something was being hidden and not wished to be talked about.

Sensing it and having little self-preservation, Zephyr raised an eyebrow and made a motion to press the dragon when they spoke, breaking the silence. His eyes squinting together in the hopes that he would manage to scrape together some bit of power that his sister had with the stare. Something which he suspected she developed to get him to do his laundry.

Nothing happened for a bit, only a staring contest ensued as a human stared at a dragon that could tear him in a few seconds, and the same dragon looked at them back with an eyebrow raised in curiosity. But slowly, ever so, whether it was out of curiosity for the little human or through sheer coincidence the dragon eventually broke.

“But, that is who we are as a people and as a culture, I am going to assume that you wish to know of those who truly embody the stories that you hear about, yes?” they asked, letting out what seemed like a pained breath. “The ones who grow mad and build treasure hoards that can fund nations?”

Zephyr nodded.

“Then the answer shifts from one of culture or personal desire and into one of mentality,” they said with a sigh before looking through their scroll for a moment.

“Something of which I will denote is the disease of the mind,” they started again, unfurling the scroll and showcasing the silhouette of a young dragon-looking star struck at the hoard of another. “Because it is associated with the fact that we as living beings, all of us including you, have a consciousness and we are cursed with having emotions, memory, free will, and in turn with it the possibility of being affected by those things.”

“We dragons are I would say more affected by emotion, our actions, and in turn by our minds than perhaps you people are,” they explained gesturing towards the scroll again. “For us, the emotions we feel, the desires we have, and the way we act can very much affect us as who we are as people. For example, take the artisans, they are people who simply wish to improve the craft that they are within, and thus they can do so with alacrity and a single-minded passion towards such a thing. Tirelessly practicing, learning, making, and in turn being able to do so for years at a time without even a thought towards much else.”

“Sounds like something you have to be careful about,” Zephyr said with a wince at the thought of him having a passion for hairdressing and that simply trapping him within it for years at a time.

“Yes yes, very much so,” the dragon agreed. “We dragons are creatures prone to obsession and in turn, the highs and lows of emotions and thought. When we feel sorrowful and filled with grief we can produce tears that are like oil, and influence the others around us to do so in kind. When we become angry we can move mountains and produce hellish gouts of breath that can melt nearly any substance, and when we feel joyful the world can seem to sing to us in delight.”

“How we act, think, and feel in our day-to-day lives affects us not only on a physical level but a spiritual one as well,” he summarized with a smile. “I think and act therefore I am if you wish to quote an old scholar.”

“I guess,” Zephyr said with a shrug and noting it for later. “But that still doesn't go int-”

“Yes I am getting to that, if I did not explain what I just did then you would not understand what I will say next,” they said tersely and with a flare of annoyance as they shifted the scroll they had in their hands for a moment.

“As we are creatures that are affected by emotions, there is one type that influences everyone in the world, especially our dragons,” they said as they showcased the dragon now looking at the hoard they had previously with contempt. “Sin.”

“Sin?” Zephyr asked, confused at the term. “What do you mean by sin?”

“Sin,” the dragon said as if the word was enough to describe it. “Emotions that can be interpreted to corrupt a creature all by themselves: gluttony, envy, lust, sorrow, wrath, pride, sloth, and all of the others that I am sure that you are well aware of.”

The dragon shifted the scroll again this time for the dragon on the scroll running while carrying a sack of treasure. This time their body had changed to become larger, stronger, and strangely as Zephyr looked at it almost more feral and savage.

“The want to grow one's hoard I suppose can be the easiest way for it to manifest,” they continued pointing at the illustration. “Due to the culture that we are within we can easily find ourselves overwhelmed by sin such as being envious of what others have, sorrowful at what we do not, and thus acting on it in rash ways. This is fine to a degree, and it is simply mortal nature to feel sin much less be influenced by it, but it can easily overwhelm a person if they are not careful or simply by one's events that they are not in control of.”

They moved the scroll for a moment, now showcasing an empty hoard that the dragon looked horrified at. The treasure sack they had carried on their back was now seemingly worthless.

“If I had to pick two things in particular I would say trauma and obsession is what turns us into the creatures that you know of, stranger,” they lamented as they pointed towards the illustration on the scroll. “For those two are the easiest I would say of things that can allow sin to whisper in our ears and unlock the keys to our hearts, and in doing so turn us into nothing more than mindless beasts plagued and defined by sin.”

The dragon moved the scroll but this time instead of stopping they merely moved it thereby showing a primitive animatic film to Zephyr. The dragon in the illustration still looking at the treasure that they had now with envy and in turn with their eyes filled with the fires of gluttony and sorrow. They were sad at what had transpired to them and their hoard, yes, devastated, of course, but they would not be destroyed here, they would remake their hoard to the state it once was and from there surpass it to beyond their wildest dreams.

From there a sequence of events played out. The dragon now simply filling the hoard that they had with the treasure that they had looted, leaving for a moment, coming back with more, and adding it to the hoard again and again. With each time that the dragon returned to leave and to add to their hoard, they became larger, stronger, and thereby more feral. All the while they became riddled with scars, stained with blood, and degenerating from their two-legged form into a hunchbacked creature. Something which Zephyr easily recognized to be the dragons that were in the stories that he had heard about. Monsters that were obsessed with gathering wealth and power.

“This,” the dragon said with a sad smile as they unfurled the last of the scroll now showcasing an archetypal dragon balefully looking at the viewer surrounded by mountains of gold, “is our curse. It is the curse of the mind and it is what makes us into the monsters in the stories that you read. I will state for clarification that we are not limited to the simple act of growing our hoards and turning into protective beasts guarding them for centuries, but as I have said it is what we pride ourselves most on, and it is a common thing that I suppose that can occur to us.”

“But why does this happen?” Zephyr mumbled out half knowing the question already. “Why do you let this happen to yourselves?”

“We do not always have a choice, Zephyr,” the dragon explained with a sigh. “We cannot control what the world has done to us or how we react, but in turn, I can say that for those of us who either choose or wish for such a thing to happen to themselves the answer is simple.”

“What is it?” Zephyr said.

“Because he who makes a beast of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man,“ the dragon answered as they put away the scroll. “In times of desperation one may wish to see themselves turn into a beast so they may forget being a man, and thus cursed with the affliction of having a mind.”

“I guess,” Zephyr said with a sigh as he rubbed his eyes all too aware of what the man said.

Another moment of science between the two passed as the weight of the answer pressed in on the room. Zephyr still contemplating what the dragon said and the dragon merely waiting for the next question.

“Is there any way to stop it?” Zephyr asked eventually and with clear hesitation.

“Stop what?” the dragon asked with feigned confusion.

“Stop what you just said,” Zephyr answered waving a hand in general. “Everything, the corruption, the sin, the being overwhelmed by it all, just,“ he paused with a sigh he didn’t know what to say next,” just, everything.”

The dragon didn’t reply but only hummed to itself in thought.

“I know that you people are the ones who feel it the most,” Zephyr continued. “But we feel it as well, maybe not in the same way that you dragons do, but I promise you that we do, so I'm wondering if you have an answer for it. Is there a way to stop it or are we cursed to be like that,” he started to gesture to himself in contempt and self-loathing, but after a pause, he gestured to the scroll instead, “That, the moment we feel it.”

There was no answer from the dragon.

“Is there an answer?” Zephyr asked again in desperation. Already he could feel the countless mistakes that he had made in the past claw at his mind, the years that he had wasted that were swallowed up by sin and fear bubble within his gut, and the regret that he felt for it all demanded an answer. An answer that either he did not know or that he forgot.

“Please tell me if you can,” he whispered more to himself rather than the dragon. “Because I don’t know it.”

Another set of silence, with the dragon merely humming to himself and Zephyr impatiently waiting for an answer. He was just about to leave as his patience was about to break before the dragon spoke again.

“Yes there is an answer,” the dragon said with a nod but with a furrowed expression on its face. “But I promise you it is not one that you are going to like.”

“What do you mean?” Zephyr asked somewhat confused by the answer.

“Because I can see what you want,” the dragon answered, looking at him. “You want a magic arrow to what plagues your heart, but you will not find such an answer from me.

“I can give you an answer that will work, but not one that will be easy,” they said, pursing their lips for a moment before they continued. “Are you okay with that Mr. Zephyr?”

Was he? Zephyr didn’t know. Having a magic bullet would fix the problems that he knew he had would be great, but it wasn’t one that he was going to get, at least not now.

But maybe hearing the dragon out would still be worth it. An answer that wasn’t a magic bullet was still an answer after all, but could he even work on it? He knew he had this discussion before with his sister, his past counselors when he was in college, and his parents more time than he can count and nothing happened in the end. Nothing happened at all except for him falling for the same bad things that he had inside of himself. Whether it was the fear that he had for the world around him and the possibility of failure along with its consequences, the self-loathing that he had for himself in the things that he knew he couldn't do yet, or his lack of skill, the envy that he had for his sister in how she was so important to the world while he knew he wasn’t, the misplaced pride and vanity he shielded himself with so he wouldn't feel anything anymore, and the sloth.

Oh the sloth, that was a problem that he knew he had, or at least what everyone around him told him. He was too lazy to put himself anywhere in the world, too lazy to work hard to get what he wanted, too lazy to do this, to do that, to fix himself, and to be someone more than who he was. He wanted to be good, to be something that his family would be proud of…but…he just couldn't, not right now, and maybe never.

Maybe…maybe it would be better not to fix it after all. At least not now, he was okay right now. He kept his worse impulses in check and the fear kept him from charging headfirst into a war and getting himself killed. Maybe if he just let it be it would keep him going, it would keep him safe.

Or maybe…it wouldn't. Didn’t this happen before? What with his fear of this and that striving from a single incident? What even was that anyway? He didn’t remember anymore, but he could certainly feel its effects still clawing away at him now. It prevented him from staying more than a few weeks in classes because he was terrified of failing. It prevented him from talking to anyone that wasn’t in the weird way that he did it for fear of being refused and it made talking to his family become a near impossibility because of what he knew he had done to him when he could remember.

If…if…if he was a dragon would he have turned by now into a monster like the ones in the book? Would he still be him? Would the fear or his worse impulses have eaten away at him by now? Or would he have stayed just being him? Would it be worth it? He didn’t know. That question just confused him and made him feel bad inside.

Zephyr didn’t respond to the dragon’s question, he only looked down at the ground, his face a stark picture of sorrow, regret, and hesitation. The dragon merely looked on with sympathy before it spoke.

“Why did you ask me this question?” the dragon asked Zephyr. “I understand the first in which you desired the answer for me and my kin’s predicament, but not the second, why did you ask me this?”

“Because I've done a lot of bad things and I have a problem inside of me,” Zephyr responded hoarsely. “I was hoping that I dunno, that I could fix it?” he continued. “Fix this cycle that I’m in where I keep running away, keep taking advantage of people, and keep being who I am now?”

He fished through his pocket before he eventually pulled out a compass as he looked at it.

“Because not that long ago I was in a situation where I had to make a choice,” Zephyr said, looking at the compass and watching it spin and spin. “Where I had to choose between a terrible decision that would get me killed in a few weeks and another one that did the same thing because of the world that I lived in and the consequences of my choices.”

He flicked it absentmindedly watching it spin once before he sighed. “I chose neither, I chose to run away again, and I asked a friend, or well not a friend, just someone whose face I knew for help, and they did. They did help in their way a lot and I'm thankful for that, but a part of me knows that the reason why they helped me wasn't out of the kindness of their own heart, but pity. Pity for the pathetic shell of a man that stood in front of them begging for help,” he finished with a sniffle. “Pity for someone like me who has trouble taking care of themselves and needs their family to fix their problems again.”

“I see,” the dragon said with a nod. “And you sought to fix the dilemma that you are in with the answer that I can give you?”

“Maybe?” Zephyr said with a chuckle before throwing a hand around him. “ I don’t know. It would be better than being here at least. Talking to a dragon who's older than the city I was born in, being far away from home with no way to ever return to it, having a family who secretly hates me for the way that I am, and being unable to do anything about it.”

“But,” he said, his face darkening again as he looked down. “I’m not sure if I'm strong enough to fix myself, or if the world is right for someone like me to even do such a thing in the first place. I mean the world is at war, suffering is everywhere, and children back home are being plucked from their homes to be thrown headfirst into the fires of war. I don’t think a world like that will accept a person like me wanting to do the things I want to do.”

“Maybe, maybe the world is not right yet to act, or if you are strong enough to do such things yet,” the dragon said with a nod. “I do not know, but you’ve made it this far haven’t you?”

“Hmmh?” Zephyr said looking up.

“I mean, you’ve kept your wits about you, you know your faults, and you wish to amend them,” the dragon started. “You may not be strong enough now, or as you said the world may not be ready for a man or a woman to act in the desires of their own heart. With them now only seeking to punish whoever falls out of line with an iron hand, but that doesn't mean they won’t allow them to act one day.”

“And when that day comes,” the dragon continued, “perhaps you’ll be ready. You’ll either be strong enough to move through the world and to carve your path while amending the mistakes of your past, or the world will allow you to act on your desires.”

“But,” the dragon stressed, holding up a finger. “That requires knowledge of the answer.” The finger turned into an open palm. “And are you willing to hear it?”

Zephyr thought about it before eventually he sighed. “What do I have to lose,” he said despondently with a half-hearted smile. “It’s just words right now anyway. It’s not like I'll be using them anytime soon.”

“Very well,” the dragon accepted Zephyr’s answer with a smile. “To overcome the sins and the trauma of the past, to not be corrupted by them, one must face them.”

“That’s it?” Zephyr said in disbelief interrupting the dragon. “You just have to face them? I’ve done that more times than I can count, I mean, I know I'm not a good person, and that hasn’t done anything for me so far.”

“Let me continue,” the dragon said patiently waiting for Zephyr to stop, which they did after a moment. “One must not only face the sins that one has to avoid being corrupted by them but to acknowledge them as well. It is to admit the selfish desires that one has, the mistakes that led them there, why they did it, and what could be done to avoid it. “

“But that’s not enough in the path of facing one’s sins to overcome them,” the dragon continued. “It’s not enough. Many men and women in this world know the sins that they have committed, what they have done, and what could be done to overcome them, but they do not improve, why?”

Zephyr made a motion to ask, but before he could the dragon answered themselves.

“Because one must also have the desire and in turn the strength to act if they ever wish to overcome their sins,” the dragon answered. “The man harrowed by trauma and who takes to the bottle to avoid the past must have the strength to open their heart to it, to take that pain within themselves, and to still stand at the end of it if they ever wish to be rid of it.”

“Because if not,” the dragon continued,” they will die a hollow husk at the end of their miserable and terrible life wishing for the simple act of having never lived. To avoid this fate one must be willing to face the sins that one has within them, acknowledge the mistakes that one has made, what can be done to overcome them, accept the consequences that come with it, and have the strength along with the desire to act.”

“That,” the dragon said looking at Zephyr with a solemn look,” is how one avoids corruption, that is how one can avoid being turned into a monster, and that is the answer you seek. It is an answer that will hurt you, it is an answer that can take years to fully implement or to gather the courage to take the first step, it is an answer whose path you will have to learn on your own, but it is an answer I promise you will work.”

“Because he who makes a beast of himself forgets the pain of being a man, but he who embraces it becomes divine,” they finished with a smile. “It is a rare act, but it is one that if performed is worthwhile.”

Zephyr only gave a wordless nod to the dragon along with an exhale before he began to stand up and brush himself off.

“Well thank you for the answer,” he said after he finished and grabbed his suitcase. “I’m not sure if I’ll be ready to do it yet as you said earlier, but maybe one day I will.”

Zephyr fished through his pockets before he grabbed his compass and looked at it before sighing. “And when that day comes hopefully it’ll all be alright.”

The dragon smiled in return, “Well then I wish you the best of luck with that stranger.”

They gestured now towards the exit, “I would advise you to leave now while you still can. I believe I have nothing more to offer you and I am sure that by now you have no interest in reading my books.

Zephyr agreed with a nod and began to make the motions to leave: patting himself down just to check in case he forgot anything, making sure his hat was on his head, and his suitcase was in his hand. But before he could even start taking more than a few steps the dragon spoke again.

“If it helps you, we are not the only ones that are capable of falling to corruption,” the dragon offered to Zephyr. “They,” it said for emphasis, “are very much capable of it as well.”

“Who?” Zephyr asked, turning around curiously.

“The Twin Monarch along with the many self-proclaimed deities on this world course,” they answered with a smile. “They are very much capable of falling to trauma and sin as well.”

“Like Nightmare Moon?” Zephyr guessed, cocking his head to the side.

“Not just her,” the dragon half-confirmed with a terse frown upon their face. “The other as well. She makes a good effort of hiding it, but let me assure you, that she is just as susceptible as the other if not more. And if pressure is applied along with heat she will bend and break just like the other.”

“After all,” they said with a smile pointing to the scars that they had. “Who else but her could give me these scars? A wizard? A hero? A magical artifact of yore?” they jokingly asked before giggling. “No,” they answered with a shake of their head. “Nobody else but her could have given me these. So do not worry Mr. Zephyr, you are not alone.”

Zephyr only gave a dull nod as he walked away from the dragon and they began laughing. It wasn’t until he left the cave entirely that his thoughts came back.

The monarch of the sun could turn? Zephyr thought to himself bewildered. If so, could she turn during the war along with her sister?

He looked around for a moment to settle himself on reality when he found something in the corner of his eyes. Moving towards it he found a small bone idol of a ferocious winged figure wreathed in blazing fire and armored in a heavy plate. One whose eyes were filled with nothing but wrath and contempt.

Wordlessly and without much thought Zephyr pocketed it before he walked away from the cave and back to the train station, his mind wandering away on what to do next.

Author's Note

Fun fact: Did you know this chapter went through more or less three to four total rewrites and took more than three months to write? It was a doozy to write to say the least.
Otherwise yeah, lot of lore in this one. I like to imagine the dragons are usually okay with dealing with such a thing by themselves as a united people? You either need someone that understands you enough to pull you out of it when such a thing begins to occur or you need someone with a big enough club or sword to knock you out right then and there. With either instance easily being solved by living with your peers who would be more than happy to do either.
Another thing that was talked lightly about in the last chapter is the idea of their 'curse' spreading to non-dragons through mere chance and long-term exposure. Something of which i'm sure has caused the idea of 'dragon greed', draconic cults, and more then a few 'mad artists' to appear in the world. Hopefully it's an interesting one.

Chapter Five: The Mountain and Board games

One step became two, two became four, four became eight, and so on until Zephyr found himself standing not at the train station, but inside of it. With the day having already passed into the late afternoon.

Yeah, okay, this is going to be a recurring thing isn’t it, Zephyr thought to himself as he lounged against the chair that he was in and watched the mountain slowly coming into view. Great, just great.
Once more recalling his memories from the moment that he began to make his way back: he could remember walking out of the cave, following the trail, getting to the tree, and more, but something was off about them again. They felt spotty as if he could only remember a second or two of the experience and merely thinking about them made his head feel weird. Like as if he was drunk or didn’t have that much sleep. The more he thought about it the more it felt like something about it was trying to get him not, like an upturned magnet meeting another.

And stranger still was his overall disposition towards what had happened. He knew that what had happened was weird and even concerning, but he didn’t feel like panicking, getting help, or even doing much about it. Instead, he just felt merely annoyed by it.

“Well,” he muttered to himself as he looked out the window and saw The Mountain, the capital of The Isles, slowly come into view, “at the very least it seems to be useful for now.”

The rest of the time there was uneventful and short. The train only had an odd 10 minutes left and in time it eventually stopped and disembarked. With the first thing that greeted Zephyr when he got out of the train and into its station was the cool rush of air-conditioned air.

Looking around he noticed the train station was built entirely indoors, it featured a polished stone floor, a mosaic depiction of The Isles on the ground, and various decorations of murals, flags, sculptures, and more. And looking at them it reminded Zephyr of the many train stations back home, the big ones that would often load tens of trains a day. The only difference with one had was that the number of its passengers and trains paled in comparison to its western cousins. This one has no more than a few hundred people around and only a few trains to accommodate them. Those of which he noted were just as old and worn as the ones back near the port.

But just like before the people still oddly revered the trains that were inside. Keeping them in prime condition, giving them new paint, and making sure that they were clean of rust. Something to which Zephyr noted to himself while it did give a new look to the trains didn’t ease the nervousness of its crews. One engineer, in particular, has to be dragged into his station by a crew of assistants.

Hmph, well that’s something, Zephyr thought to himself as he grabbed a brochure that was being handed out by attended and put it away for later before looking around a bit more as a nostalgic smile crawled across his face.

Home sweet home as they say, he thought to himself as he walked through the train station and surveyed around. Reminds me of Cloudsdale before the uhh…you know. People walking around, attendants helping them, air conditioning, and oh great not this again, he finished his thoughts as he came across the one thing he loathed back home during the early days of the war, and one whose ability to pop up in his life seemed almost magical.

Posters, why does it always have to be propaganda posters, Zephyr dismally thought to himself as he looked at a pillar filled with three posters. Guess you can’t escape the beat of the war drum no matter how much I run.

The first poster depicted a ship coming across the sea and on which he spotted various creatures of all kinds coming to it with their heads held high and smiles on their face: Gryphons, Zebra, Hippogriffs, Thestrals, and more. All the while a set of bold writing was on the bottom, the language of which Zephyr couldn't read.

Looking closer at it one thing that Zephyr found peculiar about the poster was not what was on the ship: vehicles, tools, cars, planes, machines, and the items of modern industry, but what was not such as bombs, tanks, guns, or uniforms. Something which he knew was vital for any war effort.

“Huh, never seen that before,” he mumbled to himself as he continued to look at the other ones, his distaste for them fading away into novel interest. “

The second poster featured a variety of workers inside a factory laboring at their stations with the aid of nearby machines to produce a variety of goods. The variety of which Zephyr couldn't tell the specifics of, but he could at least make a guess. That being things such as tools, toys, and parts. All of this was highlighted by what Zephyr could guess to be some sort of slogan or catchphrase that expounded on the worker's craft. The art style for the poster was simple, it was clean, and it featured a vibrant look to it. One that was deeply contrasted by the last one.

Because that one is harsh, stylized, and caricatured. With a set of dragons, each wearing both a factory worker's uniform along a business one shunning what seemed to be a more primitive looking duo. The latter was dressed in a satirical garb that deeply contested the one that he had seen earlier. For example, the vests that the shunned duo wore almost seemed like robes, they looked scrawny and weak compared to the modern duo, and they shied away with hateful yet envious eyes. All the while another set of slogans on the bottom of the poster pridefully proclaimed some sort of message. The meaning of which Zephyr couldn't read, but he could guess to be a message of rejecting the old and embracing the new.

Strange, Zephyr thought to himself as he finished looking at the posters, the feeling of discontent had faded away into a novel interest. I’ve never seen these kinds of posters before. These seem to scream for modernization. Why would they want that now? The Isles never exactly struck me as a place that seems to want factories and trains. Didn't they throw out a factory ambassador a few decades ago?

He tried to recall the memory of it, and while he couldn't remember a lot, he could remember a few things. Most notable of which was the hospital bill that the poor industrial envoy received when they were thrown out a window. The effect of which he noted was the unofficial proclamation of The Isles being a no-go zone for foreign manufacturing.

“Yeah they aren’t exactly pro-industrialists,” he mumbled to himself as he looked around. “I don't see why they would start now.”

“Unless,” he continued to mumble to himself for a minute as he looked at the train and remembered the wording of the book that he had. “Unless they know something is coming, something big.”

With a haunted look, he looked around for a moment and remembered a fact that he had nearly forgotten. Because nations tended to modernize and industrialize themselves in the build-up to war, especially if they knew they would be invaded in time.

“Well…uhm that’s something to remember, “he said to himself as he looked around for a moment before making his way out of the train station. “I should be going now.”

Fumbling for a minute on a destination he pulled out the brochure that he had and noted its purpose as an advertisement for a hotel. One that was newly built, furnished, specced to modern international standards, and welcomed any foreign travelers or tourists to come inside to stay.

“M-m-maybe I should head there for a bit, “he said to himself as he noted the direction and began to follow it. “I’m not tired yet, but it’ll give me something to do and uh…uhm.”

He cast a nervous look behind him as he saw a crew of soldiers boarding. All of whom he noted were carrying rifles and swords.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said to himself as he walked away and into The Mountain’s streets, “it’ll give me something to do. “

With time eventually, Zephyr calmed down, the recent revelation he had died away, and he was able to get a look around The Mountain’s streets. Quickly noticed the constant stream of traffic not only in terms of people, but in building supplies as well: machinery, wood, steel, bricks, and gems, lots of gems; enough gems that as he watched an open-top wagon pulled by a giant of a man that was over ten feet tall a small pebble fell from the wagonload and nobody paid attention to it. Back home every single pebble of magical crystal was accounted for, but here it was treated as nothing more than coal.

And all the while as he looked around he could feel the strange feeling that he had when he was in the Artisan’s shop creep up again. With the very space that was within The Mountain stretching and bending to suit both him and the creatures inside.

For example, the various shops felt odd to look at. One moment they were as tall as any other shop back home, but the next, and with a bit of movement from one’s eyes they were as tall as a skyscraper and more than able to accommodate either a large group of people or a few elder dragons. At one moment he could walk by a butcher that was for regular people, and the next he could walk by a candy store that sold novelty lollipops that were bigger than him.

That wasn’t the only thing as well, because while the buildings inside of The Mountain were tall, they weren’t built tall in the sense of scale for a single dragon. Most of the buildings in the place weren’t built more than a story or two tall, and instead often featured an underground section. The depths to which he couldn't find out, but a cursory glance revealed them to be as deep as any other mine back home. Were they a hundred feet deep? Two hundred? Five? A thousand? He didn’t know, the more he looked down into those places that were meant for dragons the more his headache grew. Eventually, he pulled away from it and continued.

Strange place to say the least, Zephyr mused to himself sometime later as he looked down at the brochure and noted the last few directions that were on it. Maybe this could be dragon magic? Well, that is if they can even do magic. What could they do anyway?

Zephyr thought about it for a minute and he didn’t have an answer. He knew dragons could spew fiery breath at their command and thanks to the librarian he now had an idea of the madness that could affect dragons, one that very much influenced them as a people, but anything other than that Zephyr wasn’t sure about. He knew that Twilight’s assistant could produce a special kind of breath, one that allowed them to transport letters with ease, but he didn’t know that dragons could do anything like that by themselves. That felt more like an anomaly or mutation that was specific to the assistant and nobody else, not some racial ability that they had.

Even the madness part that affected dragons as a species Zephyr was unsure about. Did their emotions, wants, and desires define them as a people? If so? What was the full extent of it beyond the madness that the dragon in the cave had described?

With that thought Zephyr was reminded of when he was in the artisan’s workshop he saw ordinary people working alongside dragons. Gryphons, ponies, and even a diamond dog working inside the workshop, and they all had the same glazed apathetic look that they had just like everyone else.

They looked like robots in that place. Tirelessly hammering bars of metal into tools, trinkets, and even the odd weapon without a single thought or outside expression on their bodies or faces. The only time they did anything else was to sit down to rest when they waited for an item to heat up to cool down. Blankly staring ahead at their work as they waited before eventually picking it up with a set of tools and going back to work again.

The thought of it all sent a chill down Zephyr’s spine. How long had those workers been there? How many pieces had they made so far from the moment they signed up? Was it worse for an ordinary person than a dragon? Could they get out of it? Did they sign up for it? Did they want to? Would they ever find what they wanted to make or reach whatever goal they desired? If not, how long would they last then?

Zephyr didn’t know, he didn’t know, and he didn’t want to think about it. Better to flush those ideas out of his head before it was too late.

So, taking out his brochure and noting the directions again he found much to his relief that he was nearing the hotel. Only a few more turns left to go and he would arrive there.

And when he did the first thing that Zephyr noticed was how peculiar the hotel he was advertised was. It wasn’t special in any sort of unusual way that might be seen back home, with it being a simple five-story building made from wood, brick, and oddly stone, but the thing that set it apart was its height.

The Traveller, the name of the hotel, was the only building around that stood as tall as it was, at least in a conventional sense when one took into mind the scale of it. While of course there was a nearby shop that towered above it, that shop was nothing more than a story tall, but the hotel itself was five stories tall, and luckily made for ordinary people. For if it wasn’t, Zephyr guessed that it could probably be as large as The Mare Statue back home.

Otherwise, it had ordinary amenities apart from the multi-linguistic staff and a currency exchange kiosk such as an air conditioner pumping in cool air for guests, a clean lobby with a coffee machine and supplies for it, a smoking room for isolation, clerks waiting to help guests, and even a tasteful arrangement of a painting of The Isles from a local artist. The painting of which was simply named, sanctuary.

Nice place overall, but the price is a bit steep though, Zephyr thought to himself with a wince as he heard the price from a nearby clerk. Something which rang up to the tune of a month’s work for a weekend stay. Not sure if I’ll be coming to stay here for a night that’s for sure.

“Well with that out of the way, what should I do now? ” Zephyr asked himself as he made his way outside of the hotel onto the streets. “Not like there's much to see in The Isles, and I’m not exactly in the mood to see a volcano or two at the moment.”

He thought about it for a minute or two as another set of carts rolled by. And he was just about to think in his head to start following them when a strange individual came out of the hotel. Something to which he noted was a Diamond Dog.

And while they were ordinary in the way that they dressed by wearing a simple buttoned, vest, tie, slacks, suspenders, and all of the things that one could expect from a modern businessman to wear today. All the while they took pains to make sure that they were clean, ordered, and straight in the professional manner that one could expect from a proper servant. But they were entirely different in their figure and physical appearance.

Not only was the man anemic with his flesh as thin as paper and his demeanor carrying with it the burden of a dozen sleepless nights, but the man was covered with scars: a missing ear on their left, a cropped one on their right, and crudely branded hands and fingers that spelled something out in a language that he could not understand. If Zephyr could look underneath the man’s back and arms he would have found they would have been riddled with laceration scars.

It’s like looking at a twisted mirror, Zephyr thought to himself as he watched the diamond dog make their way to one of the nearby shaded tables that were set outside, and from a satchel that they carried they began to set up a chess board for themselves to play with. Shaking and bloodshot eyes transfixed on the board as its tired owner moved carefully the pieces on the table one turn at a time. All of this fascinated Zephyr and gave him a morbid curiosity to find out who this Diamond dog was.

So, wanting to find out Zephyr walked towards the man as they played, and abandoning all social precedent in the process he asked him, “What’s with the you know,” while pointing to his ears and hands. “It’s not something that you see now and then.”

“Hmmhmh?” the man responded to Zephyr as if they were snapped out of a trance before they garbled in a language that he didn’t know. It was hard to say what exactly the language was, but it sounded harsh and snappy, and it carried a low guttural growl to it.

“Right, right, language barrier,” Zephyr muttered to himself as he scratched the side of his head with a sigh. I don’t know any foreign languages, so hopefully just saying it slower again will help. It worked last time so maybe it will again, he thought to himself before he started talking again.

“Do, you, know, Equestrian?” Zephyr said as he took out the travel guide that he received from Ms. Coffin, flipped to a page where it showcased the crest of his homeland, and pointed toward it. “I’m, from, there, I don’t know the language here,” he finished pointing around the general area.

The man simply stared dumbfounded at Zephyr before eventually replying with an empathetic yet sad smile. “Yes, I know, I do not talk well.”

“That’s good!” Zephyr said with a simple smile that the man could talk Equestrian before he gestured at his ears again. ”So uhm, yeah what’s going on with that? Something happened to you?”

“Y-yes,” the man said with a strained and pained look on his face. “Accident happened, my fault.”

“And the markings?” Zephyr said, pointing to his own hands ignoring the man’s discomfort. “What happened there?”

“Accident,” the man replied again, somewhat uncomfortable as they covered their right hand with their left, but as if they remembered something they stopped. Their hands tensed for a brief moment before they returned to their original position.

“I see,” Zephyr said, still ignorant as he pointed to the man’s ears. still transfixed on the man’s ears. “Can you hear with them?”

“Enough,” the man answered before sighing,“ I can hear enough.” There was a silence before they eventually said, “Is that all?”

“I guess so, thanks for your time,” Zephyr said with a shrug as he began to make a motion to leave before he noticed that was the man that he recognized, a badge, but not just any badge, a governmental one. It was made from stamped metal, it had a series of numbers on it and a set of words that he couldn't read, but he could tell what it was. He’d seen the countless variants before to know what it was such as the one his sister had worn when she visited him, the ones soldiers wore, and even the one the state police wore now. You see them enough, and eventually, you can see them all.

“The badge,” Zephyr said pointing to his chest and hoping the man understood, “what’s that about?”

This time the man merely sighed with exasperation and instead gestured towards the board that they had on the table.

“Play with me and I talk,” the man said, gesturing towards it and tapping the board with his right hand. “You know?”

“Yes I know how to play,” Zephyr responded as he sat down and began to assemble his side. a gesture to move it and with a nod from it began to assemble his side. “So mind starting?”

“I am…assistant,” the assistant offered up as an answer as they tapped the badge and did the same to their side of the board. “Given to me in recognition of my lord’s work, he is,” they paused for a moment to find the words that they wanted to say before they continued, “helper to soldiers here.”

“Helper?” Zephyr asked somewhat confused by what the man meant as he began the game by moving one of his pieces. “In what way?”

“Teacher?” the assistant said hesitantly unsure of the exact meaning of the word they said. “He is a teacher to soldiers.”

“I see,” Zephyr said as he moved another piece before he asked his next question. “So he works for the government that you're from?” he asked as he looked at the assistant’s badge.

“No, no, no,” the assistant fervently disagreed, shaking their head all the while before they moved a piece. “He is….mercenary?” he continued but somewhat unsure about the word they said, “worker for people here.”

“Really?” Zephyr said, somewhat surprised by what he heard. He’d never heard of something like that before. While he heard of formal affairs of military instructors and soldiers going from one country to another to serve as instructors, hiring a mercenary to do it instead was something he’d never heard of before. Was it done before? If so, by who? And why?

“Why?” he blurted out wanting to know to which the assistant only gave a shrug.
“Trouble maybe?” he answered before tapping the board to signal Zephyr’s turn with a smile. “Badlands.”

“Badlands?” Zephyr said, confused. “Why would they be concerned about that?”

“Badlands has oil, metal, crystal,” the assistant answered plainly, “Equestria wanted it for a long time, and they can’t have it because of the princess, and er,” they stopped as they struggled to find the next word. “Friendship?” he said somewhat unsure of the meaning of what they said.

Zephyr gave a wave and a nod to continue before they could begin to find an answer to which they did so gladly.

“Problems of war,” the assistant continued, “also dragons are scary, very scary. Nobody wants to fight a dragon, but,” they said stopping for emphasis, “guns make dragons less scary, planes make dragons less scary, tanks also. Claims of dragons owning badlands and hurting Equestria aren’t scary anymore, greed does the rest,” they said with a smile.”

“But The Monarch of The Sun she ca-” Zephyr tried to refute.

“She is only one person, she cannot hold back the army or people wanting badlands forever,” the assistant interrupted him as if it was obvious before adding, “if she wants to.”

“I see,” Zephyr said with clear hesitation at the revelation Equestria may be using military action against The Isles for control of the Badlands. He knew a bit about the underlying situation, with the occasional headline on the news grumbling about the badlands. But going to war over it was unheard of to him, however, it made a sick sort of sense when he thought about it.

Get the resources and you can fuel the war effort, he thought to himself with a grimace while the diamond dog waited. Shows just how much I know about politics and industry I guess. Hopefully, it doesn't come to that, but it could be interesting to learn more about what’s happening here for a bit. Kill a few hours at the very least.

“Anyway,” he said, snapping back to attention and moving a piece on the board to continue the game to the diamond dog’s delight. “Do you know who is helping them?”

“Gryphons,” the assistant answered, relaxing a bit as they moved a piece on a board with a smile. “They pay for their help. If you wish to know more there is a chancery here.”

“And do you know where it is?” Zephyr asked with a furrowed look as he now realized that he was in a precarious situation and tried to salvage the situation the best that he could.

The diamond dog simply nodded and he motioned with a finger that their answer was going to have to wait as he began to focus on the game. Reluctant but willing to accommodate his source of knowledge allowed the diamond dog to do the same.

Pieces were exchanged, moves were made, the tide of the board ebbed and flowed, and within only ten minutes Zephyr faced defeat as the assistant triumphantly won the game.

“Thank you,” the assistant said with a smile clear on his face as he took a moment to bask in the moment of victory.

“Hey you won, fair’s, fair I guess,” Zephyr said with a shrug while feeling a bit bitter as he idly tipped over a piece and watched it fall. “Do you mind getting back to what you wanted to share earlier?”

“Yes, yes,” the assistant said as they began to reach into their satchel before eventually producing a small badge from it. The badge was made of tin and iron and it was as big as his palm. And stamped on the front of the badge was the depiction of some winged creature whose exact details Zephyr could make it. The only thing that he could notice was that the bird was strange, it was preparing to take flight from the remains of a broken egg, and underneath that creature was a short phrase in a language that he did not know.

“I do not know words to explain how, forgive me” the assistant continued with an apologetic look on their face before tapping on the badge and circling the depiction that was on it. “Look for this on, eh,” they drawled on for a moment as they tried to look for a word.

“A statue?” Zephyr offered up to which the assistant nodded happily.

“Yes,” he said with a relieved smile before beginning to make a series of motions with his hands. “Statue front of chancery, big place, very big, has a fence and guards,” he said gesturing again while stifling a laugh as he realized the method in which he was describing it.

“Alright, I guess,” Zephyr said as he internally noted down the description of the place before he looked at the badge again. The badge was a complex design, iconic, easy to know, but one that he wasn’t sure if he could remember when he saw it. The Isles was a big place after all, and just because it was guarded by guards and had a fence didn’t make it easy to find. He was sure that given time he would easily get lost.

“Can I have it?” he asked the assistant pointing towards the badge.

That request sent a spike of nervousness through the assistant. One that deeply contrasted their willing, if a bit exasperated, intent to talk with Zephyr.

“Why?” they blurted out confused clutching the badge that they had to their chest. The look on their face was one of sharp alarm and concern as if they were ordered to hand over their life savings over to a stranger.

“So I don’t get lost trying to find the chancery?” Zephyr answered with a raised eyebrow. It was just a badge after all, it didn’t look special compared to the assistant's own as it was merely made out of plain stamped metal, what was the harm in having it?

“Mhmh,” the assistant said, still hesitant, their face morphing into one of concern and quiet indecision. A moment passed as they studied Zephyr’s features for why they would ask this now.

Zephyr for his part was oblivious to what was happening in front of him and merely waited for a yes or no. Something that eventually came when the assistant twitched for a second as they remembered something dearly important to them and acquiesced to Zephyr’s request with a quiet, “okay.”

“Show to guards outside,” the assistant instructed Zephyr as they handed the badge over. “When done, give this to Gryphon named Heniss.”

“Noted, thank you,” Zephyr thanked the man with a genuine smile as he pocketed it before standing up and collecting his suitcase. “Hopefully you find someone else to play with you.”

The assistant simply nodded as they continued back towards their game. All the while Zephyr made to leave and to head to the chancery, but he had only just begun to leave when he remembered something.

“In case he asks, what’s your name?” Zephyr asked the assistant.

“I do not have a name,” the assistant answered but did so in a manner that felt like they were reciting something that they were taught due to the emotionless and stoic tone he now had. “I am nobody,” they paused before stressing with clear expectation, “yet.”

“Okay,” Zephyr replied unsteadily and shaken as he nodded to the man before returning to heading towards the chancery, “I’ll be heading out now, thanks again.”

The man simply nodded as he returned to his game, more than content to pass the time playing a board game than answering a stranger. Zephyr for his part tried to shake off the strange and uncanny feeling that he had from the man’s answer.

What a weird answer, he thought to himself as he walked through the streets of The Isles. I mean if he didn’t want to give me his name, he could have just said no, but whatever, at least now I have a way to find it and to kill a few hours in the process.
Who knows, he continued his thoughts as he looked at the badge again, his thoughts once again to curiosity. Maybe I can even learn something from all of this. Hopefully, it shouldn't take too long to find the statue this badge’s design is made from.

Author's Note

I can imagine the Diamond Dogs and various Dragons in the past to have a sort of friendship? Not a close one mind you as dragons still do raids and the like onto their lands. Instead it's more of a mutual respect and understanding of each others cultures due to their similar aligning values. Because whether your a diamond dog, a gryphon, or a dragon greed is good in the end.

Chapter Six: The Chancery

It was late evening by the time Zephyr found the chancery. And the moment that he found it the first thing that he noticed was that it seemed nearly half-built, with only one wing of the build being finished so far. While there was a thick iron fence enclosure, a statue built in the outdoor courtyard, a series of flags planted around that statue representing what he guessed to be various countries, and more of the hustle and bustle of the construction crews making their way inside and out gave it a makeshift feeling. One that was only amplified due to the two-story nature of the building given the draconic nature of its inhabitants and the strange feeling that he had before when roaming the streets.

“Strange place to say the least, didn’t expect this place to look like a bunch of farmers raising a barn” Zephyr muttered to himself as he made his way up to one of the few gated entrances that wasn’t filled with construction crews and trucks and towards a nearby set of guards that were standing by a gate to get in. “Still though, it looks like they take security somewhat seriously here. Not sure about their outfits though.”

The reason why Zephyr had his thoughts on it was that the guards that stood in front of the entrance were vastly different from those that he saw inside or anyone else in the world for that matter. They were broad-shouldered, thick-scaled, and both standing at ten feet tall, while being armed with shotguns that Zephyr suspected could obliterate him at the pull of the trigger. All the while holding their weapons both with a keen sense of paranoia that could only be matched by a paranoid madman, but mixed with the unfamiliarity of a civilian being issued a uniform and firearm. In the end, they looked more like civilians in uniforms rather than trained guards.

Ones who didn’t clean their uniforms or paid much attention to regulation that’s for sure, Zephyr thought to himself as he noticed the misshapen state of their dress. Both of their uniforms were filled with creases, having a non-existent gig-line, and one of them had their pants sloppily put on while the other carried a sword on their side along with a crossbow, but worst of all they didn’t even have their hats on.

Hmph, well, time to get in I guess, Zephyr thought to himself as he went to the guards before raising a hand and saying, “Hello!Is this place open to visitors at the moment? I was wondering if I could get in. “

“No,” the guard on Zephyr’s left said in rough equestrian. “Unless you have some sort of pretense to do, visitors are not allowed.” There was a pause as they looked at Zephyr’s disheveled appearance before quipping, “Especially ones in your state.”

“Well, thankfully I sort of do,” Zephyr responded with a smile as he pulled out the badge that he was given to him by the assistant and showed it off to the guards. “I was given this by a worker within the building and they said that it would let me inside. I have some questions that I want to ask some people.”

In response, the guard on his left opened up a palm to inspect it and Zephyr handed it over. After a brief moment of the guard taking out a set of glasses from their pocket and inspecting it, they handed it back.

“It should do,” the guard said, making a quick gesture as the other walked to the gate to push it open by hand. “Please keep your time brief and quiet.”

“Will do,” Zephyr answered with a smile as the gate began to open while he pocketed the badge and asked the guard another question. “By the way do you know where Heiness is?”

“Griffonstone representative?” the guard said with a raised eyebrow. “Yes, first-floor east wing, look for a room marked with that flag,” the guard said pointing towards the inner courtyard statue within the middle that had a flag of Griffonstone next to it. “Anything else?”

“No, no, not really,” Zephyr said with a bit of a nervous smile, noticing that he was beginning to get on the guard's nerves. “Thank you for your time.

The guard simply grunted and waited for Zephyr to walk through. When he was done they rolled back the gate back in place and continued their conversation.

Rude, Zephyr bitterly thought with a snort as he walked to the center of the courtyard and towards the statue to get a closer look at it. When he did, his first reaction was to reach back into his pocket and take out the badge that he had before comparing it to the statue.

A bit different, but I'm sure this is what they meant, Zephyr mused to himself with a smile as he pinned it to his chest. Whoever made these badges missed a few details on the badge though.

The statue in the center stood as the centerpiece of the courtyard. Around it Zephyr guessed to be a set of flags meant to represent whichever country was hosted there, but whose contents at the moment to him seemed sparse, displaying only the flags of Griffonstone and the Yale rectorate. Nevertheless, the statue stood tall and proud. Sculpted out of stone and made into the scale of dragons, it towered above Zephyr when he looked at it. Being so high and so tall, he was sure he would have seen it from beyond the gate, but strangely just as before, he didn’t notice it until he got close to it or focused on it.

Hmm, weird thing, Zephyr thought to himself as he noted the strange effect going on before he refocused his attention to the statue, which was a winged creature, a hybrid between something of a lizard and a bird of prey. Its form while juvenile, scarred, and ragged still spread its wings and poised to take flight leaving the discarded remains of its egg behind that once served as its home.

Looking closer, Zephyr could faintly spot the inscriptions and the various depictions of barbarism and sin displayed on the broken remains of the egg: murder, plunder, sacrifice, slavery, and more. A phrase was written below it on a plaque whose words were translated into various languages across the globe so that anyone could read it and understand it stating, as the bird breaks from the egg to fly to prosperous lands anew, we do the same as we leave our primitive past behind to join the modern world.

Hmph, catchy, Zephyr thought to himself after he was done inspecting the statue as he made his way in. Best of luck to them with that.

“No, I don’t know where the secondary storage is,” Zephyr stated to a random worker who he was just talking to now and who spoke his language after he had made his way inside desperate for answers. “I’m sorry but you're gonna have to find it on your own.”

The state inside the chancery was much like the outside. Neat, orderly, and compiled, but still in a half-built state. With workers, guards, and the occasional office personnel running from place to place, looking for things, organizing them, and more often than not getting lost. The last of which annoyed Zephyr as he had found himself in the strange and sudden role of an information guide.

“But I-” the nervous worker tried to get out before he was shushed by a pat on the back.

“Look, I'm sure that you’ll find it,” Zephyr said in an attempt to soothe the worker’s anxious temper before he pointed down the hall and toward the western section of the chancery. “You could try looking on the other side of the hall, maybe it’s there.”

“But why would they put it there?” the worker asked him with a confused expression. “The office that my senior is working at is in this part.”

“Why would they not?” Zephyr said, relying on his experience becoming an errand boy for one teacher or another in his many past attempts to boost his grade. “During times like these nobody knows where anything is, and oftentimes they just put it where they think it’s most convenient to them. Your boss may be working here, but someone probably put it over there because they needed it for a five-minute task. So look around there and see if you can find anything. If you find it's no biggie then everything is fine, but if you don't come back to me then I'll try and help you for a bit.

“I-I guess,” the worker said with a resigned look and slumped shoulders, and to which Zephyr patted them on the back.

“Look it’ll be fine alright,” he said with a reassuring smile to the worker. “Nothing going to go wrong, I promise.”

The worker only gave a dismal nod as they walked off as Zephyr smiled at him before he brought out his travel guide.

Bloody mess this place is, can’t even find some paper clips when you need them, he thought to himself as he turned on his heel and continued on his way to Highness's office. If that’s the situation with the workers, I can’t imagine how it is with those in charge.

As it turned out when Zephyr arrived at Heiness’s office, not well. The outside of the place was littered with refuse and what Zephyr suspected to be government storage such as boxes, bookshelves, tools, books, and the odd stack of papers filled with entries lay discarded and filled with dust. The only thing that wasn’t there by mistake or accident was a simple flag nailed to the outside of the office door with the flag of Griffonstone on it.

No paper clips here either, hmm, Zephyr thought to himself after a quick inspection of the clutter outside the office and noting the loose papers around. Wonder if he’s suffering from a shortage as well.

A quick knock on the door eventually resulted in a series of curses, mutterings, and a growled, “Come in!” from whoever was within. With a shrug in response, Zephyr entered the door and went in.

When he did, the first thing that he noticed was that the state of the office’s outside resembled very much the inside. The office was cluttered, cramped, and filled with junk, documents, chairs, loose leaves of paper, pens, and assorted paraphernalia. All the while the place ranked with stale air, body odor, and ink as Zephyr took a moment to settle in.

The man inside and the representative of Griffonstone, Heiness, wasn’t faring any better as he worked away at the desk that was inside the place with a set of documents in front of him. His face and his clothes were slick with sweat, the feathers that he had along his arms and wings were either misaligned, broken, or dirty, and his eyes were sunken with the telltale effects of sleep deprivation.

“Hey uhm,” Zephyr said, interrupting Heiness while he worked away. “My name's Zephyr and I was wondering if I can ask you some questions?”

“If it’ll take me away from doing this stuff for you, you can give me the time if you want,” Heiness said in Equestrian as he stopped from his work and took a moment to stretch. During which the air was filled with the pop, snap, and crackle of his back realigning in place followed by a heavy sigh of relief.

“Well, what can I do for you stranger?” he asked Zephyr with a tired smile.

“I was just wondering what’s going on,” Zephyr said, accenting what he said with a thumb pointed behind him. “Do you know anything about that?”

“Well as I'm sure that you can tell by the statue outside, the dragons have finally decided to get off their ass and modernize for once,” Heiness said with a bitter snort while gesturing with his head in the general direction of the statue. “But they’ve been having problems with that, nobody wants to sell them anything.”

“Why?” Zephyr asked as he took a seat and put his suitcase next to it. “Aren’t dragons rich?”

“They are rich,” Heiness agreed with a nod and a smile, “very rich, rich enough that they could probably buy out an entire nation if they wanted with a single hoard's treasure. But there's a problem with that,” he said, stopping for a moment. “They’re dragons, and nobody trusts a dragon nowadays. Especially once you’ve been raided by them in the past, which pretty much everyone in the world has.”

“Everyone?” Zephyr said with some disbelief at the idea of dragons having gone through nearly every corner of the globe.

“Everywhere and everyone,” Heiness confirmed. “Bloody idiots won’t stop bragging about it and it got them in a mess where they have all the cash in the world but nobody is willing to take it, well, everyone except us,” he pointed to himself with a thumb.”

“Really?” Zephyr said with a surprised look. “What makes Griffonstone different?”

“We’re desperate,” Heiness answered, his smile morphing into a tired and sad one. “Griffonstone is filled with problems, ones nobody wants to fix or has the cash to do so, and with this deal maybe we can start fixing some of them.”

“What problems?” Zephyr asked. He didn’t know that about Griffonstone, but he did know that it was the birthplace of some powerful emperor whose family ruled the majority of the eastern continent, surely it wasn’t that bad, right?

“Bandits, poverty, illiteracy, lack of infrastructure, and an actual government that isn’t an old man trying to keep everyone together,” Heiness said with a dry chuckle. “Heck, it’ll be better to say what don't we have a problem with back home. It’s not a great situation, to say the least.”

“But,” he said, tapping on the forms that he was working on. “This can help. It may not be able to fix all of them right away, but it can at least get us a head start or at least some foundation to work off of so we can start doing something. As I mentioned dragons are rich, rich enough to buy out an entire country if they wanted, and this deal might give us enough cash so that we can start fixing ours.”

“I see,” Zephyr hummed to himself in acknowledgment before he voiced his next question. “And what is this deal anyway?”

“It’s a trade deal,” Heiness answered with a shrug. “We sell them machines, vehicles, blueprints, manuals, and anything and everything that we can get our grubby hands on back home that’s remotely close to the modern day. In exchange, we get gold, jewels, and any of the old treasures that dragons are willing to throw at us.”

Heiness stopped for a moment as he thought about what to say next before he asked Zephyr, “Like uhh for example, you did catch the train that led from the ports to here right?”

“Yeah?” Zephyr said with a nod as he took a minute to adjust himself in his seat.” What about it?”

“That train along with the others were some of the ones that we sold them,” Heiness said with a smile. “We managed to somehow scrape up the parts together for a small fleet of them and welded it together to get it working before we shipped it off. Got us a bit of cash and they got a train in return.”

Zephyr only raised an eyebrow in response as he recalled its dubious condition along with its all too nervous crew working it.

“Hey! The dragons only said that the machines had to work and that they could maintain and fix it if need be,” Heiness said defensively, raising his hands in defense. “They didn’t mention that the things had to be as old as they were or that they couldn't be cobbled together from a hodgepodge of parts. As far as I'm concerned we’re doing fine.”

“Right,” Zephyr said with a bit of suspicion as he scratched the side of his head as a question started to irk his mind. “So where are you getting all of this stuff anyway? My guess is you guys can’t manufacture the stuff they’re asking for considering the state you're in?”

“You have that right,” Heiness confirmed with a nod. “Ordinarily we wouldn't be able to even think about doing this deal as we don’t have the industrial capacity for it, but Griffonstone is littered with junk thanks to the many failed attempts of modernization in the past, and while everyone else is wary of dealing with dragons directly, they’ll let us act as an intermediary. We buy industrial junk and old parts from them, sort them, build them into whatever we can, and then get the manuals for it or write them ourselves. From there we sell it to dragons for a payday,” he finished with a snap of his fingers. “Simple.”

“Good to know,” Zephyr said with a nod as he ruminated on the situation while Heiness waited for a reply. It was an odd one, but one that he supposed made sense. The dragons needed parts, Griffonstone needed cash, and while Griffonstone couldn't get the parts, they were willing to scrape them up together for it, simple. The question on his mind then was, how did this even start? Wondering about it, he asked Heiness for an explanation.

“Hehm, I don’t exactly know that one,” Heiness admitted, scratching the side of his head. “I’m not exactly associated with any of the higher-ups so I can’t tell you that. But I can say that this whole thing probably started way back when we participated in that uhh, school,” he drawled on for a moment as he tried to remember.

“Princess Twilight’s school of friendship?” Zephyr offered up as he recalled reading about the dragons and the gryphon's from Griffonstone exchanging talks during that time.

“Yeah, that,” Heiness said with a nod and a snap of his fingers. “My guess is around the time when that school cropped up. Not in the way of us starting a deal or anything, but more in the idea of the two of us getting to know one another. Whiteout her and her school this whole thing wouldn't have even started.”

“Well good for her and her school,” Zephyr said with a smile. “I never saw the place myself, but it’s nice to know that her school managed to get something done that wasn't being involved in a scandal.”

“A scandal?” Heiness said with a look of concern on his face. “Did something happen to it?”

“I don’t know much, but I think it was something about guidelines or something,” Zephyr shrugged off as he rattled what little he remembered. “Why? Are you concerned about it?”

“A little,” Heiness admitted. “A part of me always wanted to know what it was like inside of its schools or classes.”

“Really?” Zephyr said somewhat surprised. “Have you sent them a letter yet telling them that you were interested? I’m sure they would have let you take a tour inside of it if you were interested”

“I did, but I never got a reply,” Heiness answered with a slight mix of sadness within it. “I guess that some random gryphon from the middle of nowhere, one who is an adult mind you, isn’t meant to be inside of that kind of place.”

“A shame though,” he continued, with an expression of slight distress and a sigh. “I would have loved to know what it was like inside. See what was going on, what its purpose was for, and what I could learn on the way out.”

“Maybe if the world was right,” Zephyr said emphatically. “Maybe if you were younger, knew the right people, and who knows what you could have gotten inside.

“Yeah,” Heiness said with a sullen nod. “Maybe”

A sullen quiet fell between the two as they contemplated on what the world could be if they were either younger, smarter or simply took the initiative when they should have. Eventually, however, Heiness broke the silence with a sigh.

“But, that’s that, and this is this,” Heiness said, stretching his arms and looking at a nearby clock. “ While I appreciated answering your questions, I should honestly get back to work before I find myself swamped by paperwork. If you want to learn more about what the dragons are doing, my suggestion would be to visit those college students on the second floor,” he said pointing out the door. “They can probably give you a better idea of what they are doing.”

“Thanks,” Zephyr said as he stood up and grabbed his things. “Anyone that I should keep in mind?”

“Just look for the professor,” Heiness said with a shrug. “Tell her I sent you to her so you can ask some questions and things should be fine, and if not here,” he said, taking out a coin from his and tossing it over to Zephyr.

Zephyr caught it before looking at it, it was just a simple bronze pin with the icon of Griffonstone on it. Confused, he looked towards Heiness for an explanation.

“Just something that’ll make you a bit more official as you go around,” Heiness explained with a smile. “That and it’s a little something from me as thanks for giving me a bit of time to wind down.”

“Thank you?” Zephyr hesitantly thanked the man as he pinned the Griffonstone badge to his chest. It looked a bit out of place, but it suited it when it was next to the one he got before. Looking at it, Zephyr remembered the agreement that he had with the diamond dog.

“Oh right! I was told to give you this by a Diamond dog who is an assistant to a mercenary here when I was done talking to you,” Zephyr said as he reached for the badge and started to remove it, “would you want it right now?”

“No, keep it,” Heiness said with a shake of his head. “I’ll arrange the matters so they can have another one made. Now shoo, I have to send a few letters to get an idea of what’s going on back home.”

Zephyr nodded as he made his way out the door and walked through it, but quickly stepped back into the office for a moment as a crew of uniformed students ran by. All of whom were carrying a variety of boxes and bins full of books, tools, weapons, and fabricated objects, and one of whom even had the gall to wear an old bronze cuirass over their clothes.

“My guess those are the students you were talking about?” Zephyr said to Heiness as he gestured towards the crowd of students as they ebbed away.

“Looks about right,” he said as he took a moment to look at them before returning to his work. “Just follow them and you should be fine.”

“Right, thanks for the info,” Zephyr said as he waited for the students to pass and closed the door behind him as he made his way out before following them.

Following the students was an easy talk. They didn’t pay any attention to who he was, what he was doing, or why he was there. Instead, they were more than content to chat amongst themselves about this or that in a language that he couldn't understand while he followed them.

Honestly doing this reminds me of back when I was in college, Zephyr reflected as he followed the students up the stairs while he hung in the back. Going from class to class in groups, chatting with other people, spending time in libraries, ah..

A wave of nostalgia riddled with guilt washed over him as he reflected on the past. One that reminded him of the years that he spent there, what he did, and how much money and time he had used up by now. Years of work, tens of thousands of dollars if not hundreds of thousands wasted, and for what? What did he have to show for it? A degree? Awards? Certifications?

Nothing, he had nothing, Zephyr knew he had nothing. Nothing except empty promises that didn’t mean much and the antiquated feeling of someone who could have been something, but didn’t.

“Hehm, yeah,” he mumbled to himself as he tried to close his mind to the thoughts as he continued to follow the students, “yeah.”

From there the trip was largely uneventful, and when he arrived with the students on the second floor Zephyr was assaulted by a cacophony of noise: objects being moved left and right, the scraping of ceramic and metal on the tiled floor, and the muttering and grumbling in foreign languages as students stood around taking notes on various things.

Most of the second floor of the chancery was dominated by the students. With the main halls littered with artifacts, trinkets, and junk. The only thing in the rooms around the area wasn’t filled with it was the odd table or chair filled with notes, pencils, instruments, and antiques to which the former was dedicated to studying. All the while a woman dressed in formal clothes with a varsity jacket thrown on barked out orders in a language that Zephyr didn’t know towards what he could assume to be her juniors, and looking at her for a moment he spotted her back the icon of Yale. Something of which nobody else had.

Doesn't look like that’s the professor, but by my guess, that’s a student judging by her jacket. Zephyr thought to himself as he looked on before making his way closer. She should know where the professor is.

“Uhm, do you mind if I ask you a question?” Zephyr asked her as he approached the jacketed woman. “My name's Zephyr and I'm looking for your boss, the professor for your class I'm guessing. I have some questions that I wanted to ask her?”

In response, the senior only raised an eyebrow at him as she replied in a language he didn’t understand.

Right, language barriers again, Zephyr internally sighed as he tried to think of a set of simpler words to use. All the while wishing that he paid more attention in his foreign language classes.

“Your boss, do you know where she is?” he repeated in equestrian while he offered up a halfhearted smile.

The senior only sighed as she gave a sideways glance to the crowd around her and talked to what Zephyr assumed to be one of her juniors.

The junior replied stoically with a shrug pointing to Zephyr’s chest where the twin badges were.

The senior only raised an eyebrow, frowned, and pointed to Zephyr with an index finger before replying again.

The junior only gave a dismissive wave in response to which the senior only sighed with a look of stress visibly on her face. Nonetheless, with some reluctance, she gestured behind her with a thumb to a closed door that was in a separate room. This one, unlike the others, was the only one that didn’t wasn’t littered with junk it. Instead, a simple and clean path could be spotted that led from the stairs to the room.

“Thanks for the help,” he said, getting an idea that his question was answered as he waved goodbye to the senior before making his way over to the door, and within a few moments he opened it to see what was inside.

Making his way in the first thing that he was able to notice was just the smell. The smell of nicotine permeated through the air and more just wallowed within it. On the walls of the office room hung knicknacks of all sorts coupled with diplomas and degrees. Zephyr couldn't read what they said, but he could hazard a guess that their certification meant something beyond what he could achieve thanks to how clean they were. Not a single crease, stain, or even mark was out of place. The room however was in stark contrast to them.

Litter, litter was everywhere. Pens, half-written notes hurriedly scrawled in a mixture of languages, ink puddles, stamps, and more littered their way around the room as a woman quietly snored within, entirely oblivious to what was going on outside her office. She was a gryphon with rich black onyx-like feathers that decorated her body, was in her 40s, and looking at her reminded Zephyr of Heiness

She didn’t carry the same demeanor as Heiness nor did she even look anything like him, but there was still the same tired demeanor that Heiness had, only different this time. This one was invoked by the kind of fatigue that only a teacher or a middle manager could have. Nonetheless, she snoozed on with her arms folded neatly, at least until a prod from Zephyr woke her up.

“Mmhhm,” the woman grumbled as she took a moment to yawn and rubbed her eyes open. All the while fixing Zephyr with a baleful glare. Something which he was able to somewhat ignore thanks to a lifetime of dealing with his sister and parents.

“Uhm, hi,” he started around the room and idly deposited the suitcase that he had next to the door. “The name’s Zephyr, I was sent to talk to you by a man named Heiness, the Griffonstone representative I suppose. They sent me here so you can help me understand what’s been going on with the Isles lately.”

There was an awkward pause as the woman merely stared as she tried to wake herself up. It didn’t give him pause or fright like the stares his sister could give him could, but it was nerve-wracking and reminded him that what he was doing was possibly a bit wrong.

“Right, uh, sorry for waking you up by the way?” he stammered out as he nervously scratched his forearm with a sheepish look. “Just uhh…yeah.”

“It’s, it’s fine,” the professor mumbled out in fluent Equestrian before yawning and looking at a nearby clock. “Honestly, this is probably one of the better times I guess as I won’t be bothered by my students. Everyone is either too busy running around The Isles doing interviews with elders, working on their experiments, doing archaeology, or arguing with each other.”

Taking another moment to yawn, the professor then rubbed her eyes clear before fixing Zephyr an unsure look before she asked,” What did you say your name was again? Sorry, I'm still waking up.

“It’s uhh, Zephyr,” he answered her. “Just Zephyr if you're wondering.”

“Right uhh, Zephyr,” she said before standing up from her seat taking a stretch, and looking around her desk as she idly grabbed a clipboard. “I would love to answer you here, but even during my quiet moments I still have some work I need to do. Would you mind if we walked and talked?”

“Sure if it’ll help,” he said standing up as well before grabbing his things and following her. “Any idea what you're going to be doing?”

“Ah, just doing a few things, checking up on work, and generally making sure everyone is still sane, the usual,” she said as she opened the door and walked through it. “C'mon, you’ll find out.”

“So what do you want exactly out of this?” the professor said as she took a moment to talk with the senior. Someone who patiently relayed the details of her and her fellow students' work to her. “Are you working for a newspaper as a journalist or something?”

“Honestly just trying out what the bloody hell is going on,” Zephyr said as he looked around the main hall. “I heard that you were working with the dragons and I wanted to know how and why.”

“Hmph, well I guess to start, let's go from the beginning,” the professor said as she looked at the senior who took a book that she had gathered through one of the tables and moved it to her attention. All the while she took notes on the clipboard that she had. “Several months ago the dragons came to us with a request. They said that they were behind in the world and they wanted to learn about it, know what’s going on, the brand new inventions being made, the avenues of military science being developed as we speak, if they can get their hands on it, and all of that jazz. Get a refresher course on the world from some of the brightest minds around.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Zephyr said.

“It does,” she agreed and nodded towards the book while the senior swapped it for a few miniature clay statues. “Better to do it now before it's too late and while you're preparing for what’s next?”

“What’s that?” Zephyr asked her somewhat knowing the answer already.

“War I guess,” the professor hesitantly said as she took one of her nails and idly scrapped a bit of it off before frowning at the green texture it had. “The Isles is rich in resources: oil, steel, gems, and perhaps even aluminum if those prospectors aren’t high on powdered shells all day and night to tell us if that last one is true.”

“Powdered what?” Zephyr blurted out confused.

“It’s just a nickname for a local drug made from a critter around here that can keep you awake for days, don't worry about it,” she brushed it off as she now focused her attention on an iron sword that was bigger than her.

“Anyway,” she continued looking at it while scribbling a set of notes in her clipboard, “we’ve been asked to bring over a few blueprints, modern curriculums, staff, news articles, and whatever we can to help them modernize. In return, they would pay us in gold, jewels, artifacts, and the possibility of interviewing soldiers, mercenaries, and craftsmen who lived in the East thousands of years ago,” she said as she looked at the sword and noted her reflection with a smile. “The possibility of which has never existed before until now .”

“Sounds like an okay deal I guess if you're interested in history,” Zephyr said, putting his spare hand in his pocket while the other still carried his suitcase. “So did you?”

“Not entirely,” she said with a shake of her head. “The dragons were asking too much, their goals were too broad, and they thought that we were a panacea for their problems. We could bring blueprints, that’s easy. Maybe even bring in a few instructors and planners to help them plan out the city, but doing anything more than that would be absurd. You don’t just ask someone to fix your mistakes and modernize your country even if you have all the gold in the world.”

“It’s worth a shot though right?” Zephyr said with some hesitance. “Help those who are in need?”

The blank stare that she gave him in return reminded him of the one his sister gave to him on occasion, one that he was used to by now, but one that meant simply one thing. That whatever he said was probably stupid and inane.

“You are an Equestrian aren’t you,” she said with a grim smile.

“I guess?” Zephyr admitted with some hesitation. “Something wrong with that?”

“Not really,” she responded with a shrug as she continued her work examining the sword. This time paying attention to its edges and the few decorations that it had. “It just means that I have to explain a few things to you.”

“Like what?” Zephyr asked.

“That the entire world doesn't run on good hospitality and intentions,” she started to explain with a scowl as she ran a finger across the edge of the sword to test it. “Imagine just showing up on a stranger’s doorstep and asking for them to drop everything that they have to help you. Sure, offering to pay for them to do what you want would help, but what do they have to gain? What would they lose in helping you? Could they trust you?”

“And if you did know them, would you still help them to that extent?” she asked Zephyr before shaking her head. “No, definitely not. For example, it took us years of careful diplomacy to get any assistance from the changelings so that we could learn just a little bit from them. And the dragons were asking for the keys to everything we had with a single visit.”

“It’s absurd, to be honest,” she scoffed with a smile. “Absurd, even with all of the gold in the world we still wouldn't accept it. Only a harmonic fool would think about accepting something like that.”

“Oh,” Zephyr faltered with a blush of shame on his face. “Sorry about what I said earlier.”

“No need to be sorry,” the professor said as she finished examining the sword with a smile and wrote on her clipboard for a moment. “You just don’t know the world around you and it shows, nothing you can do about that except ask questions, make mistakes and learn from it.”

“Regardless,” she said as she moved towards a set of copper jewelry and began examining it. All the while the senior waited nervously in the background. “There was nothing that we could do for them ordinarily.”

“But,” she said, stopping for a moment and chewing on her pencil as she examined an armband. “The rewards that they were offering were a lot, and I don’t just mean the gold. The chance of first-hand accounts from across gryphon history was a rare one, especially with the promise of being able to do archaeological excavations, and even having the chance to be willingly loaned artifacts from the hoards of dragons. That was just too rare of an opportunity to pass up because who knows when we’ll ever get a chance like that again,” she said with a smile.

“So you compromised?” Zephyr said as she looked at the armband and noticed that it looked more like a ring than anything else.

“Yep,” she said, continuing to look at the item before putting it away and writing in her clipboard a bit more. “We couldn't do everything that they wanted, but we could do a few things. With one of them in particular being the chance to sponsor and host a field of study that we haven’t ever had the time to fully explore back home.”

“And what would that be?” Zephyr asked curiously.

“Magical studies and inventions, or dweomercraft if you want to be more specific,” she explained, turning towards him with an honest smile this time. “Something we’ve neglected in the east, to say the least. Anyone can use gems to make inventions or little artifacts, but teaching it is expensive, and hosting a school for it even more so.”

“Why?” Zephyr said, scratching his head in confusion. “Is it because of the gems?”

“That and the expertise,” she said with a snap of her fingers. “Knowledge of dweomercraft is very rare within our world and there's not many people who know how to do it. For every twenty engineers, there's maybe one person who knows how to make an apparatus from a gem that lets you make a flashlight out of it. And that flashlight I assure you is probably ten times as much as a normal one thanks to the gems used in it.”

“So hosting a school for dweomercraft, much less formal classes, is something that most nations just can’t do right now,” she continued with a shrug. “Why host a school for dweomercraft when you can just have ordinary college instead for less than a tenth of the price and trouble?”

“But the dragons are different,” she said as she made her way to a necklace on the table that was made from solid gold, and whose chains were twice as long as her while the width of each link was the side of her hand. “They have the cash to afford it, they have the crystals around to maintain the school, and from what I can tell they either remember how to do it or they have the books from the few places in the world that have made such a school before. Offering them the chance to host a foreign branch so that we can send students to it was an easy idea. We get the bragging rights of being one of the few colleges in the world that can host it, they partially get what they want as we can send over a few scholars' minds, reduce the prices for any licenses we sell them, and they can even permanently acquire the designs for anything the students make in the school or bring over without our intervention. Everyone wins in the end. ”

“Are you sure?” Zephyr asked her as she began inspecting the chain. “Sounds like they are footing the bill for your benefit.”

“Eh they are still getting something in the end,” she said as she flicked a piece of the chain and watched it glow. “Plus, they agreed to it anyway, so if they thought it was a rotten deal they could have just said no from the start.”

“Mhmh,” Zephyr grumbled to himself as he watched the proceedings around him happen. It didn’t sit well with him, the idea of a nation being taken advantage of just because it was rich and desperate, but it was politics, and he didn’t know much about politics.

Better to just not delve that much into it, he thought to himself as he let loose a sigh and with it his feelings on the matter. Turning back to the professor he noticed that she had finished examining the chain and was writing in her clipboard again.

“Are you done with your examinations yet?” he asked her, gesturing to her clipboard.

“This part at least,” she replied to him as she gave a nod to the senior who let out a sigh of relief before she turned her attention back to her clipboard. “The next part of my duties is inspecting what the inventors are doing in the shared lab, wanna see?”

Zephyr simply gave a nod and followed the instructor as she led him through from the hall and into another one, and from there into a long room meeting room or conference hall.

When he arrived, the first thing that Zephyr noticed was cloth cubicles set all around. Nearly all of them were occupied by students, and their forms along with their works were hidden by the cloth curtains that they had around.

“Feel free to look around for a little bit while I get to work,” the professor said as she grabbed her clipboard and made her way to one of the cubicles. “When I'm done I’ll find you and we can continue.”

“Will do,” thanks,” Zephyr said as he waved goodbye to the teacher as she began talking to one of the students before he looked around the room. What to do, what to do.

Not knowing what to do, Zephyr simply walked around the room. Looking at either the materials that the students worked with or what they were working on.

The results after a cursory look were easy to tell. Most of the students worked with either copper, bronze, or precious metals. Oftentimes made the shell of whatever they worked with out of dull bronze or iron while the rest of it was made out of fine and filigree decorated materials, but all of which housed a gem core in some way or fashion. Something which which was in ample supply

By looking around Zephyr eventually noticed a small supply room that was set in the hall that was utterly filled with gems. From big ones that were the size of his head to minuscule ones that were the size of a pebble or a fingernail. The supply room had it all and its contents to any thief would be worth a fortune.

“Hmph, so what she was saying was true about the dragons and the gems they had,” he said to himself with a smile as he grabbed a small one and looked at it with a nostalgic smile. “This could probably power my hair clipper if I said I still had it. Shame that it got stolen by some kids for the scrap that it had.”

“Well, heh,” he let out a sigh as he put it back in its place. “One of these days I’m going to get a new one. Hopefully when I do it won’t cost me half a year to save up for it.”

Grabbing his suitcase and leaving the closet, Zephyr continued his inspection and quickly found out what the students were making: prosthetic arms made from gilded metal, intricate gauntlets that created sparks, and toy helicopters or drones that flew through the air. The place seemed almost like a factory rather than a workshop.

And he was just about to look for the professor as he finished looking at a group’s prosthetic work when he noticed something catch his eye. A large cubicle in the back of the room was left unattended, but from which he could hear…something come from within.

It was hard to tell exactly what it was. At one moment it was like sparks, the next music, and the other a weird vibration, but it did the trick all the same to get his attention. Walking towards it with a curious look, Zephyr stopped behind the cloth cubicle to look at it.

What he saw within it was a body harness, one that resembled the safety harnesses that he had seen workers wear during construction, but that was embroidered with gems, and made from a variety of colored threads: black, white, yellow, and red. It was strange, to say the least. The more he looked at it, the more the harness looked off. The colors that it was made from almost bled into space, coloring it, causing small ripples around it, and in turn giving him the strange fuzzy feeling that he had to stand in a lightning storm.

“What in the world is that thing?” Zephyr mumbled to himself as he inspected it. “Is it some kind of weapon?”

“It’s a magnum opus,” answered the professor from behind him who now wore a stern look as she approached the harness. “The swan song from a crew of students who are no longer with us.” There was a moment of hesitation before she added, “Save for one”

“What do you mean by, no longer with us,” Zephyr said somewhat confused as he looked at the device. “Are they dead?”

“Yes,” she said with a grim nod. “But in their efforts, they have created something that the world has never seen before nor ever will. Something which In the right hands could change the world.”

Zephyr only gave a befuddled look to the teacher in response, unsure as to what could be given such a tag.

“Do you remember what I told you earlier about what the dragons were getting out of the deal?” she said with a raised eyebrow. “About them getting the designs for anything the students make or bring to here without our intervention?”

Zephyr gave a nod to her.

“This,” she said gesturing to the harness, “was what won them over and was one of the first things they got. It’s a device that lets anyone that wears it use magic.”

“Really now? Use magic?” Zephyr said somewhat surprised as he took another look at the harness before he quickly looked away as it now started to give him a headache. “Like spells and stuff?”

“Mhmh,” she confirmed with a nod of her head. The expression on her face was the same one a museum guide might have as they showcased the rare fossils that they worked on for the hundredth time that day. “When worn, this harness allows the user to slowly gather magical energy from their surrounding environment or via crystals and to store it inside themselves. From there they can use the harness to project that stored magical energy in any way that they wish. For example charging a magical crystal, using a magical item, or releasing that energy in a form similar to how a unicorn or a kiren might.”

She stopped for a moment to mull over what she said with an unsure look before she added, “How someone casts spells with the harness is often primitive I will admit, but for obvious reasons. A user with the harness simply does not have the lifetime of formal or informal training and instinct that a unicorn may have. Because of this, the effects of the spells that one can produce with it are often primitive such as basic levitation, wild blasts of magic, and shields that can flicker in and out. A focus can help with this process thankfully.”

“A focus?” Zephyr asked her. “What’s that?’

“A magical item that some spellcasters use to help them with spells,” she answered. “I’m sure you’ve heard of staves that can produce lightning, fire, and light right?”

“Once or twice,” Zephyr affirmed as he recalled the occasional magic shop that sold a few wands. “Never really bought one myself for obvious reasons, but I know they exist.”

“Good,” she said with a nod. “Those items simply do the work of focusing one’s magical energy and using it in a set manner without failure. All it relies on is simply a source of magical energy in the form of the wielder or a crystal.”

“Right, so, side question,” Zephyr said, interrupting her as he recalled something. “Why have I only seen them for kids or as party tricks anyway? Why aren’t they around more?”

“It’s cheaper and less expensive to simply train someone in producing a spell than to carry around a bunch of staves and wands,” she answered before shrugging. “That and it’s considered…dirty to rely on them for many spellcasting people,” she said with a bit of apprehension. “Don’t ask me why, I don’t know.”

“Hm well, It’s something, to say the least.” ” he hummed to himself as he looked at it unsure what to think about it. It seemed almost like a panacea for those who were obsessed with wanting to perform magic, a flawed one, but still one nonetheless. However something about it bugged him, and that was what he learned during an electrician’s course on how batteries worked.

Because if you charged a battery with electricity it would just get hot before eventually melting. You could charge a crystal with magic and electricity, but if you overcharged a crystal it would just explode, what would happen to a person? Would they explode, or would they melt? A sinking feeling hit Zephyr’s stomach as he turned to the professor.

“So..what happens if someone overcharges themselves with magic?” Zephyr asked her while turning to look at her and away from the harness. “You say the harness stores magic in people, what happens to all of that magic in them anyway? I don’t think that a diamond dog or a gryphon can exactly,” he made a gesture, “use it in a meaningful way. Is it just stuck inside of them forever”

“Well that magical energy simply bleeds out of their body naturally to the point where they remain at their previous levels,” she answered him with a shrug. “Simple.”

“But there can still be problems with having that energy inside of someone,” she continued, her voice becoming a bit hesitant in doing so.

“Complicated how?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Complicated in a bad way?”

“Mhmhmh, sorta,” she said once again with an apprehensive look. “Do you remember what I said about a user not having the instincts and training that a unicorn might have?”

“Yeah?” he said with a nod.

“Well that also extends to the internal fail-safes that they can have as well,” she said her lips pursing. “Because a unicorn’s magical capabilities can often be compared to a muscle. With them being able to sense how they can use magic and use it appropriately through instinct or training from a young age.”

“But someone with the harness doesn't have that,” she continued with a nervous look towards the harness. “They simply don’t have the instincts that a unicorn has or the training to use their magic effectively and safely. And because of it, they can easily find themselves pushing themselves to achieve greater magical effects without any knowledge of it.”

“That…doesn't sound safe,” Zephyr said hesitantly.

“No, no it doesn't,” she agreed. “What’s worse is the surges that an individual can have with it?”

“Surges?” he said somewhat unsure. “What are those?”

“Simply magical phenomena that can occur with a spellcaster when they are using magic in an uncontrolled,” she said with a shrug. “It often occurs when someone is either sick, young or…extremely inexperienced,” she finished with a grimace.

“And…what can happen during that?” he said with a sigh, picking up the intention of what the professor said.

“Oh just…you know, creating phantom music or light around oneself, summoning frost, vomiting ectoplasm, hearing strange voices, self teleportation, and more random magical effects,” she explained before coughing into her hand and adding, “and until recently for users of the harness, mutation, and death.”

“D-d-death!?” Zephyr blurted out horrified by the fact and the device that was in front of him that he now pointed towards. “People can die using this?”

“In the early stages of the harness…yes,” she said with a nervous nod. “It was possible for the wearer to gather so much magic inside of themselves that their bodies would simply shut down. Their hearts either stop, their heads explode, or their minds and bodies simply being torn asunder by the magical surges that they can have. The project was seen as a failure and a fancy way of committing suicide until the thirteenth came along.”

She shrugged towards him. “And the only reason the thirteenth didn’t die was because they had somehow mutated during the first surge they had while using the device, became resistant to magic somehow, and from there worked on it to improve it to its current version.”

“Mutated?” Zephyr said, confused. “What do you mean by that? Sounds like something out of a bad horror movie.”

“Well,” she said, humming a bit to herself as she rustled through her pockets. “If I recall from the reports when they had used the harness they magically surged just like the others, but instead of dying they had developed an affliction that had turned them into…this,” she finished before holding out a picture to Zephyr.

Zephyr looked at it, regretted it immediately, and suppressing the urge to throw up he then asked, “But they’re…okay right?”

The professor stopped at that question. Their faces grimacing, their eyes narrowing, and their lips pursing in an expression of doubt just like before. Eventually, however, they answered, “Yes…physically…if you can say that.”

“P-physically?” Zephyr asked her after he took a moment to pound his chest and clear some bile that was rising. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well apart from the mutations they are quite fine physically,” she answered him. “I suspect that the only way that they can die from the harness is by deliberately wanting to kill themselves with it.”

“Right, right,” Zephyr said, nodding to himself still trying to process the information, “that’s good I guess.”

“It is,” she said with a smile while stowing away the picture. “Without their survival, I’m sure this project would have been abandoned by now. Nobody else but the original group would have worn it by now.”

“I guess,” Zephyr said scratching the side of his head, “but why didn’t they stop earlier or during the first instance that it happened?”

“I mean,” Zephyr continued scratching the side of his head, “it just doesn't make sense. Why would they finish it if they knew it was going to probably hurt them?”

“Because of the greater good stranger,” she said with a bit too wide of a smile before gesturing over to the harness. “This is not only a magnum opus, but it can potentially change the world. Why should someone let a few deaths, even their own, get in the way of making something like this?”

With the utteration of the phrase, “greater good,” Zephyr couldn't help but let out a laugh as he removed himself from the conversation in an instant. He already knew more than he could ever want to about the so-called greater good. Why? Because for him it was what was expected of him and so many others to do in this day and age.

Chip in what little you can for the greater good. Join the local organizations for the greater good. Don’t pay attention to what’s going on around for the greater good. Sign up for the military to defend the nation for the greater good, and when asked politely? Die for the greater good. The idea of it all along with self-sacrifice just seemed so absurd and stupid to him now. He didn’t want any part of this conversation anymore, it suddenly felt entirely absurd to him now. He already knew what he wanted to know and it was better to make his leave while he still could.

So quickly making an excuse and taking his leave, Zephyr walked out of the room and out of the chancery. During which the professor merely sighed, a word of thanks for his time, and returned to her duties. All the while an old scene ran through Zephyr’s head. One in which he was asked a simple question by his sister. How far could someone go for the greater good, and was it okay to do the most terrible and selfish things in the world for it?

He didn’t know back then, in the circumstances that Equestria was in he didn’t know, but he did have a feeling towards that answer now, at least from an outside view and after a bit of time. No. It wasn’t okay to make a weapon that could kill hundreds of thousands to save millions or even think about detonating it. It just wasn’t right. The same could apply to sacrificing yourself for something bigger than you.
Don’t think it ever will be, he thought to himself as he passed by a guard and waved goodbye. You just don’t think of those things unless you are willing to do them or you're insane.

Author's Note

As it turns out making friends or allies to help you out when you need help is hard when you've been spending the past several millennia running around raiding everyone, taking what you have for theirs, and generally making a wreck of the place. Who knew?
Moving on, I really like the idea of Griffonstone and The Isles coming together to try to help each other. It feels like a natural development in my head that can grow into a mutualistic friendship and defensive pact between the two. One in which two minor city states try to survive in a world that really doesn't like them because of what they've done in the past.
As for Yale? The idea of a bunch of elder dragons having no idea on the world around them just flying into the nearest city and asking the inhabitants where the smart people are so they can bribe them into being a industrial power to be both hilarious and a great portrayal of draconic ignorance. Something of which Yale, being a renowned college in EaW, takes heavy advantage of when they find out what's going on with the dragons.
Hopefully these ideas and concepts are as intriguing to you as it is for me.

Chapter Seven: A Midnight Chat

What to do, what to do, Zephyr thought to himself as he stood outside of the chancery. It was nighttime, the guards that were stationed outside had been swapped for another set, and with his thoughts behind him after a few minutes of relaxation, Zephyr Breeze had been afflicted with the ever-returning hound that he ran from and that which had him in its grasp now, boredom.

Idly and without much to do he watched a set of cabs pass through the outskirts of the chancery. They were a lot like the ones that he had seen back home, made from wood, often stained, and even featuring a set of gilding along with furnishings as a set of accommodations for its passengers. But from there the similarities ended as the gilding was often made from what he suspected to be an alloy of silver given its shine and the size was set to fit even dragons, at least those that weren’t older. One of them almost tripled his height and took up a good section of the road, and all the while the wagons were even hand-pulled, something that was a rarity back home as many were replaced by cows or oxen as Zephyr looked at them.

I wonder how long it’ll be before they are replaced by cars, Zephyr wondered to himself as he watched another cab pass by. Will they be as big as trucks? Tanks? Eh, who knows, a part of me does want to get into one just to see what it’s like. Dunno where I'll go though, maybe the hotel? How far is that anyway?

“Hey, guard!” Zephyr said, turning back towards the guard who was half asleep at the time. “Do you know how long it takes to get to The Traveller?”

“The Traveller?” the guard asked Zephyr in Equestrian with an eyebrow. “It’ll take you a good hour or two on foot, maybe thirty if you get a wagon.”

“Do you mind if you can help me get one?” he asked the guard before making a telephone sign and recalling a rumor that he heard once in the past. “I’ve heard in the past that you people have a line to a cab company, and as I’m pretty sure you know by now I don’t speak the language here.”

“And why should I do that?” the guard replied with a dubious expression on his face. “I’m sure you can easily find a cab for yourself if you can pay the fare.”

In response, Zephyr merely pointed to his chest with a smile as his badges glinted in the night in a gesture to indicate that he was someone important. It was an obvious lie, but if it worked, everything would be fine, if it worked that is.

“I would appreciate it if you could,” he said with a smile hoping that his fib would work. “I along with my affiliates of course.”

“Of course… sir,” the guard said with a sigh as they saw the badges that he had, noticed the briefcase that he had in his hands, made a series of guesses as they couldn't make out the details, and motioned to the other to begin, “we’ll get on it right away.

“Thank you,” Zephyr said with a smile.

It didn't take that long for the guards to call a company and to get a wagon to Zephyr, with the bonus of it even being paid. Led begrudgingly by the guards Zephyr had just entered it and had begun to shut the door when he heard a yell and the rush of feet from within the Chancery.

Bloody hell, Zephyr thought to himself as he watched whoever was in the distance come closer, all the while internally debating on whether or not he could slam the door shut and yell at the driver to run. In the end, he simply resigned himself to watch as the person came closer.

When the person came the first thing that Zephyr noticed was the sheer size of what they carried, a large stack of boxes and folders that was as nearly as tall as them and obscuring them from view. A feat which was somewhat easy as the man was what Zephyr presumed to be a dwarf’s height for the average dragon, standing at only four feet and six inches tall.

When the person came closer to the wagon they merely piled into it without a word. Quickly shoving the heavy stack of stuff that they carried into one of the wagon’s seats, flashing a badge to the guard to ensure their identity, and slamming the door shut.

“Uhhh,” Zephyr said for a bit as the individual in the wagon took a moment to adjust a set of glasses that they wore before turning towards them.

When they spoke, it was with a garble of language to Zephyr, one that had several clicks along with a flowing cadence, and that which was only met with a confused expression from him. In response, the individual sighed and swapped from one language to another before they eventually landed on a rough dialect of Equestrian.

“Do you understand this?” the individual said to Zephyr with a look of semi-exasperation.

“Yes,” Zephyr said with a nod. “Yes, I understand what you're saying, mind telling me why you suddenly barged into the wagon that I'm in.”

“W-well I'm going to explain that,” the individual said with a bit of a shy and nervous look before pointing towards the crates and the folders that they had. “I-I need to deliver these to a set of officials who are outside of the chancery as soon as I can and I was wondering if I can take your ride for a moment.”

“And why would I want to do that?” Zephyr said, giving the individual a stare and raising an eyebrow. “I have places to be you know, people to see, and whatnot,” he answered while trying to maintain his facade of being a public official.

“B-But, I,” the individual stammered out before taking a breath and pointing to the crates with a desperate look, “look, these are really important, and I need to deliver them as soon as I can. I’m sure you're important, and I know that you have places to be, but would it be okay if you just have this ride?”

Zephyr only gave a hum and a signal for the individual to wait as he thought about it. On one hand, he could certainly give the individual which he assumed to be an official or a courier of some kind the wagon and he would be fine. But on the other hand, if he did that would mean more time at the chancery, time that the guards could use to find out who he was, and if they did it would be game over. With him being dragged back to Equestria, imprisoned within The Isles, or worse.

And I can’t let that happen can I, he thought to himself as a shiver ran up his spine. Worse still, if I just skedaddle that might raise suspicion and an inquiry, and who knows, maybe those documents are important. Better to just play it moderate this time.

“Sure, sure,” Zephyr said with a sigh as he made himself comfortable in his seat. “But, do you mind if I stick along for the ride? We can save a bit of time if we both stay in the same wagon.”

“I-I suppose,” the official said a bit nervously as they took a moment to adjust the nearby stack that they were near. “Where will you be going?”

“A hotel called The Traveller,” Zephyr said, naming the hotel with a shrug. He didn’t plan to stick around, but naming it would help in a lie and it was far away enough that he could enjoy the ride. “And you?”

The official only gave a nervous nod and a quick shuffle toward confirming that they were headed in the same direction prompting Zephyr to smile.

“Great, then that’ll save us both time. I’ll get the wagon rolling” Zephyr said with a smile before he stuck out his head to the driver to proceed with a thumb.

And with that, the wagon started moving. Which was a surprisingly brisk pace compared to the wagons that Zephyr had been in back home, with the driver more than content to match the speed of a car on a slow cruise.

Feeling content Zephyr merely looked out the window as he watched The various buildings of The Isles pass by. From general stores to boutiques, warehouses, and more, with the chancery in the upper districts of The Mountain, the wagon’s path took it through a commercial district. One that he noticed was recently built as even now workers were working on the odd building. With them either building the foundations, excavating the lower floors by hand, and in extremely rare cases getting the occasional machine to help. Machines that Zephyr noted were of the same quality that the train was. That being cobbled together from random parts, looking out of place, and often crewed by a nervous driver while their co-workers who were dragons eagerly watched.

It wasn’t until ten minutes after Zephyr’s idle watching that he was interrupted by a shy voice from within the wagon saying, “Are you a spy?”

“And why would you think that?” Zephyr turned curiously towards the official. “

“It’s just you're a bit suspicious that’s all,” the official explained with a bit of a nervous stutter. “You come in, you ride this place with me, and you plan to be heading in the same place that I am. Sounds a bit suspicious to me.”

“Just being nice and pure coincidence,” Zephyr replied with a shrug. “Happens all the time.

“But uhm,” the official said, faltering but still standing on the accusation that they had. “You could be one though, I've never seen you around in the chancery before, especially a pegasus.”

“Could be my first day,” Zephyr replied again with a shrug before he gave the official an unamused look. “Are you the one in charge of hiring officials?”

“No,” they relented for a moment before responding with, “but my friend is and they would have told me if they were hiring someone like you,” they pointed out. “You don’t exactly look like a worker.”

“Oh, do I now?” Zephyr said with a chuckle as he remembered Heiness’s and The Professor’s condition when he met them. “If I recall most of the officials working in the chancery, those that are foreign look like they’ve gone through the meat grinder,” he remarked before pointing at himself.

“If it helps, if I'm not an office worker then am I a spy?” Zephyr replied, pointing to what he knew to be his emaciated face. “As far as I know, spies are charming and handsome, they are often clean-shaven, and wear nice suits. They usually don’t look like…well,” he pointed to his ragged clothes for emphasis, “this.”

There was a small pause and an audible wince from the official as they looked at Zephyr’s outfit. All the while Zephyr thanked his lack of self-care from the fall of his home city, attributing to him a look that provided him an effective disguise.

Need a disguise that’ll fool strangers and government officials? Just become traumatized and don’t take care of yourself. Eventually, you’ll look like a hobo, and with that, you can go anywhere you want, Zephyr chuckled to himself as he took a moment to adjust his suitcase. All without spending a dime.

“I guess they don’t,” the official eventually said with a frown but dropped the matter of him being a spy before shifting to something else. “What were you doing there anyway?”

“Oh just visiting around,” Zephyr answered with a shrug. “Looking around the place, talking to people, and doing what I can to help.”

“Like a journalist?” the official asked with a raised eyebrow. It was one of suspicion, but it was one that Zephyr noticed and provided an in if he could latch onto it.

“You can go with that,” Zephyr agreed. “Just doing what I can to expand what I know. Would you mind helping me with that?”

“Help you with what?” the official said warily as they inched protectively towards their cargo and held out an interposing arm in front of it. “I’m not telling you what I'm doing or what these boxes are for if you're wondering.”

“Fine by me,” Zephyr said with a smile. “Wouldn't want to know what you’ve got in there anyway, whatever you lugging around sounds important, and knowing stuff like that can get me in trouble. Better to stay out of it while I can. I'm wondering if you can answer what’s going on at ground level.”

“The ground level?” the official repeated, somewhat confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean just what’s going on in general,” Zephyr started to clarify. “I know you guys are buying machines and tools from the gryphon, you have students from Yale coming in to help, but I don’t know what’s going on with you people. Like how are you guys adapting to modernization, how's the ruler in charge, and is there anything going on.”

“Oh,” the official said with some relief at being asked a relatively noninvasive question. “Well, I can answer that, where would you like to begin?”

“I guess how are you all adapting to this?” Zephyr said as he pointed in the direction of the chancery. “I guess that those people I mentioned aren’t the only ones here, and with what I heard from The Isles having an open policy for anyone wanting to be a citizen more people will be coming.” He took a moment to yawn before he continued, “How's that been?”

“It’s been….tiring, to say the least,” the official said before sighing. “Think of it like being the host of a small house to a large party. People are running around, stealing small things, eating your food, getting drunk, making fun of you, and more. All the while your having to run around taking care of everyone’s needs. Someone wants something one moment, another the next, and you're having to go out and get it. It’s expensive, noisy, and it's just a lot of fuss in the end for not much at all.”

“Except you want something out of them this time?” Zephyr said remembering the reasons why the dragons invited the people he had met before to The Isles.

“For the gifts that they bring, yes,” the official said with a nod. “The gifts that they bring are things that you’ve never seen before so it’s worth keeping them around and letting them ruin the place if you can keep what they bring. Even if it isn’t much and you know you're being thieved out of it, in the desperate situation that we are in, those gifts can mean the difference between life and death.”

“I…see,” Zephyr said with some hesitation as he took the information in. It was a curious thing to know that not only were the dragons willing to accept the bad deals they were given by Griffonstone and Yale, but they were even willing to tolerate worse. The reason for why was not out of friendship, but instead out of simple desperation. A far cry from the meanings of friendship and harmony he remembered back home.

“So why are you doing this anyway?” he asked the official, wanting to hear the words come out of their mouth. “All of this stuff has to do something right?”

“It does,” the official answered. “It gives us a bit of a leg up in the world on where to go. With their gifts and help we get factories, we get trains, we get blueprints, and we get access to modern wonder’s that we’ve never seen before until now. It gives us a chance for what’s next.”

“And what would that be?” Zephyr asked, remembering what he remembered from Heiness. “Modernization? For what? Because you want to?”

“For survival of what’s going to come next,” the official said plainly as if they were describing the reason water was wet. “The Isles is rich with natural resources: gems, gold, oil, and even steel. Someone out there in the world is going to want to come for us and when they do, they’ll overwhelm us with ease. By modernizing we can ensure that before they do we’ll stand a chance. Factories make guns, trains move supplies, and having a modern industry helps us to withstand a shock or two.”

“It’s simple, to be honest,” the official finished with a shrug. “We want to ensure The Isles remains ours, and we are willing to suffer a bit for it. Even to the point of spending a good chunk of what we have now so we can keep what’s left later. Because otherwise, we won’t have anything at all.”

“I guess it makes sense,” Zephyr said somewhat abashed as he heard the distant noise of a train departing into the night. He had one of his questions answered now, and in good order, but something felt off to him, why?

With a hand, he signaled the official to wait a bit as he thought about it. Why did it feel off? Did it feel too quick, too sudden? Yes but no, it all felt too familiar to Zephyr. With the government radically changing itself and the populace having little idea of what is going on or even how to affect it.

Not that they could anyway. What was done was going to be done, and during such a time elections and even news of what was going on was stamped down hard. Newspapers and radio stations that criticized the government or were shut down in favor of propaganda outlets, public meetings were canceled or were swapped for rallies, and all the while posters and billboards proudly proclaimed and chanted for the people to do their part. To sacrifice what little they could to help the effort of what was to come, and was to be. All without a single chance of changing it.

The idea of it brought a shiver down his spine when he recalled the days of Equestria when the war started. Not in the means of modernizing itself, the nation was modern except for its military, but radically changing itself to suit the modern day. The government quickly enacted conscription, nightly watches, a state police, rationing, and more to help itself as the war progressed on. And while those things were needed Zephyr supposed, the effect that they had on the people itself was something that Zephyr suspected officials like the one in front of him weren’t aware of.

How many people joined the draft, not because they wanted to, but because they were forced to? How many people were cheated out of the things that they could get when rationing came? How many corrupt people went into positions of power and surveillance because they had the right contacts? And how much was sacrificed for what was ahead? All so whoever was in charge could keep what they wanted?

Zephyr didn’t know, but from the itch on his spine, his hair, and along his arms it brought him unpleasant memories. Memories of a time that he didn’t want to remember, but he knew that he should ask right now, just so that he could know if things were repeating here.

“But how is everyone taking it?” Zephyr asked the official, breaking the silence that he had brewed from his thoughts. “The modernization, the diplomacy, the hosting, and my guess in the future the drafts and the laws to come. All of that's gotta have some effect on people right?”

“I mean from what I heard you dragons haven’t even touched modern stuff for centuries, and now here you are playing with it all of a sudden?” he continued as he gestured out the window as a truck rolled by. “Won’t that affect some people?”

“Well….yes, yes it will, ” the dragon said with some hesitation before they sighed as they patted the boxes that they carried for a moment. “Some of them aren’t taking it well to say the least.

“In what way?” Zephyr asked. “Like staging and protests and stuff?”

“Nothing like that, we dragons do not work like that,” the official said with a shake of their head and a sad smile. “It’s just that most of them are simply confused, that's all.”

“Confused?” Zephyr said, just confused. “What do you mean by that?”
“They don’t know what’s going on,” the official said with a shrug. “For most of the people here the most advanced thing they have ever seen was perhaps the odd ship that sailed into port or the few hospitals that we have here, but now,” they hesitated for a moment before continuing, “now things are different.”

“We have trains now, cars, factories, weapons, embassies, foreign contacts, immigrants, diplomatic relations with the rest of the world, and more, “the official rattled off before continuing even more. “Such things bring change, and people, especially dragons, are unfamiliar with change. Many people simply are confused by what’s going on, why the trades that they pursue if they are not raiding do not provide them the same respect as they used to, why are so many people showing up all of a sudden, why is there so much noise, and most importantly why is The Dragonlord taking so much power all of a sudden,” they finished stressing the last part.

“And I guess that the last one is a problem?” Zephyr said as the faint memory of The Twin Monarch’s suddenly seizing power when the war started came into his head.

“Very,” the official confirmed with a nod. “It threatens to break the trust that the people here have built over countless millennia of The Dragon Lord. And that scares people, especially the clans.”

“The clans?” Zephyr said with some confusion.

“The ones who have given The Dragonlord the right to rule,” the official answered. “The Dragonlord has been given the power and in turn the right to represent us dragons across the world, to make decisions in a time of emergency, to maintain order, and to provide a public figurehead that other people may contact if they wish to.”

“It would be like a baton with a chain that I hold,” the official tried to explain, leaning towards an analogy to help with his description. “As long as you have that baton you may rule in whichever way you wish, but you are only able to do so with my permission, and at any time I may be able to take it back by yanking on it.”

“I see,” Zephyr said with a nod as he mulled the information over. “And it’s a problem because the clans see the chain they have disappearing or no longer becoming important? Like The Dragonlord suddenly breaking free and ruling in whichever way she wishes?”

“Exactly,” the official said with a dim smile. “It is the ultimate fear of the clans, I believe. They fear the power that they have over The Isles and us dragons no longer becoming important. If that fear is left to fester and to gain power I worry that they may rally together to try to expel the foreigners, to shut down the rule of The Dragonlord, and to let us live our lives in a way so that they can retain that power.”

“But you can’t let that happen can you,” Zephyr said. “Like you said, you don’t have time. If you stop getting help then you risk getting your asses handed to you by whoever wants to gun for The Isles first. But if you don’t, then you risk civil war.”

The official gave a nod. “The chance is small as many people hold faith in The Dragonlord, and in turn the Torch bloodline, but the slight possibility of rebellion is there. A fact that is not helped by The Scaled Princess's new ideals that she wishes to put into practice.”

“What ideals?” Zephyr said not knowing much about the subject. “Mind telling me more.”

“Of course,” the official said as the wagon bumped for a moment as it continued on its way. “The Scaled Princess, the current dragonlord, wishes to experiment with harmony. That being the way of benevolent rule, a fair hand, and the practices that are practiced within Equestria.”

“But wait, why is that a bad thing? " Zephyr interrupted somewhat befuddled. “Isn’t practicing harmony a good thing for a lot of people? Why would it cause more trouble? Isn’t more rights a good thing?”

With that question, the official only sighed, a sigh that Zephyr had noticed was the same that The Professor gave to him. He had asked something showing how oblivious and naive he was to the outside world again.

“I see where you are from, pony,” the official said with a nod to themselves. “An outsider from outside of Equestria would not ask that question.”

“Because you see harmony is change, radical change,” they started to explain again,” Something of which many people are unfamiliar with and fear most of all. Yes, the practice of harmony in one’s government gives more rights, more benefits, and many things that many people may want to wish for from the world, but it requires a lot of effort, and in turn a heavier hand than what the people may be comfortable with. New bureaus of government have to be made, new laws drafted, more officials who could be corrupt being elected or promoted, and more. All of which still bring strain upon one’s populace. A government may wish to become harmonic, but they cannot do so if it would strain their populace to the point of breaking or secession”

“Because of that,” the official continued, “many governments today pursue a moderate policy. It may be perhaps not idealistic, but in turn, it can be said to be somewhat moral and pragmatic.”

“I guess,” Zephyr said, feeling defeated. The idea of simply turning towards a less harmonic stance wasn’t one that he was happy with, but he supposed it made sense in the right circumstances. If the world was different and fair, then he would be back home still trying to figure out who he was. That or perhaps lounging around sleeping his days away.

There was a visible pause as the wagon slowly made its way around the corner, and as it did so Zephyr could see in the distance the distant markings of The Traveller. With the windows being lit at this time of night, it stood out amongst the surrounding buildings. Providing an illusion of sanctuary and rest for anyone who saw it.

Last questions I guess, he thought to himself as he turned to the official, who after discussing with Zephyr for quite some time comfortably sat ready to answer his questions.

But Zephyr couldn't think of anything, still feeling morose he simply idly watched as the wagon slowly made its way to the hotel, stopping in front of it.

“I am sorry if it seems there is no easy solution or problem that we have sir,” the official started as they began idly collecting their things. “But that is the crux of the situation that we are in. We are in one that is filled with problems, and obstacles, and we do not have an easy solution for any of them. What will come next will require the right decisions, the right circumstances, and perhaps a bit of luck.” Eventually finishing what they said to say, they motioned to Zephyr to open the door for him. And after doing so they swiftly made their way out carefully balancing the materials that they had in their arms once more.

“Honestly, at times like these I wish we had accepted the offer of statehood from your country," the official said with a chuckle, “if we let them manage all of this, it would make things a lot easier on my end, that’s for sure.”

That remark reinvigorated Zephyr. The offer of statehood to the dragons? To bring them into Equestria not as an independent nation, but instead as a state? He’d never heard of that before!? When did this happen? Why? And for what reason? Wanting to know, Zephyr quickly climbed his way with his suitcase in hand to ask them some more about what they had said.

But by the time he managed to get out, the official was gone. The only thing that he could see of their trace was them distantly fading away into the hotel’s lobby.

Ahhh just my luck, Zephyr lamented as he quickly waved farewell to the wagon that he was on as it made its way back to wherever it came, The moment I hear something interesting and unique the person who provides that information disappears.

He sighed to himself as he took a moment to collect his suitcase and looked inside the hotel. It was still busy, but a bit lax with the hour being late in the day. Employees milled around half asleep, any guards were absent, and visitors quickly checked into rooms or rented them without a care about the price and only the assurance of safety and peace. Nothing else was happening within.

Well there's only one way in if I want to learn more, Zephyr thought to himself as he noted the official disappearing around a corner. This time they only stopped to pause to flash a badge at some official who came close and who upon seeing it quickly turned away. Hopefully the badge I got from Heiness and the clerk works here, because if not I'm going to get in a lot of trouble.

Move left, move right, flash a badge to the nearest worker when they approach you, say something in Equestrian that means you're busy, and keep walking. Getting inside the hotel and making his way past the entrance was simple, nobody bothered him as they assumed that he was part of the official's entourage, but it was nerve-wracking, to say the least, once he got past the entrance. Because from there things started to get weird.

Because once he got well past the entrance the corridors within The Traveller seemed to stretch on and on throughout the building becoming almost labyrinthian. Zephyr would find himself turning left, left, left, and doing it so many times that he felt like he was going in circles as he followed the tracks of The Official. But still, the numbers on the rooms changed, the stains that were on the carpet did as well, and even the light fixtures as well. One moment it would be a normal lamp, the next torch sconces, and finally small crystalline gems on the wall.

Still doesn't change the fact that I feel lost though, Zephyr bitterly thought to himself as he took a moment to rest before he took out the compass that he received from Discord. Feels like I've been at this for hours, how long has it been anyway?

Alas, the compass didn’t give Zephyr an answer. It had a sundial, but one that only worked when it was in the sun. When held in his hands it sat there limp, useless, and feeble, entirely unable to do the purpose that it was made for.

Zephyr only shook his head in dismay as he put it away before he turned his attention back to following the official, but as he did he noticed them stop in front of a room, and an exchange began to take place. One in which The Official knocked on the door of the room in which they stopped in front of, handed off the items that they had with a look of gratitude to whoever was inside, and from the moment that the door closed they sprinted off. The look on their face was akin to a man who had just seen Discord for the first in their lives, pure terror mixed with the overwhelming need to flee.

As always that set Zephyr to be curious, and wanting to know more he momentarily abandoned the idea of following The Official and made his way over towards the door before going inside.

When Zephyr entered the room, he noticed that it was more of an impromptu common room than anything else. A large wooden conference table sat in the middle of the room and was surrounded by chairs, couches, and utterly filled with The Official's cargo. The boxes, the folders, and the various items that they carried spilled across the table without care for cleanliness.

All the while similar amenities could be found throughout the common room that was in the lobby of the hotel: a heater, coffee maker, fan, a large poster of the map of the world put on a wall, a door to a nearby restroom, and more. It was somewhat unremarkable, but its inhabitants certainly weren’t.

Inside the building was a man, with furred wings as dark as night, cat eyes, a smile with a pair of sharp fangs, and dressed in simple priestly robes adorned with silver jewelry sitting on a sofa. That man was a Thestral, a subspecies of pony kind or humanity that was lesser known throughout the world, but that could be seen in certain places. People who were often the target of prejudice, and of which Zephyr had no ill-intent or focus. Because his eyes focused on something more interesting. For in the room sitting across the Thestral and surrounded by papers was a bug man with antennas on his head, a split jaw, and an exoskeleton for skin, a changeling.

When Zephyr saw the changeling he was overcome with a strange mix of befuddlement and wonder, like a kid seeing a rhino for the first time. Because until now Zephyr had never seen a changeling before. At least in the sense of it not being in a biology book from the few dissections that were made on the species following the first invasion of Canterlot or in propaganda posters. Everyone had by this point, even him, but still, he’d never seen one before, and the moment he did it dispelled the many myths and inaccuracies people had about changelings.

For with the war Equestrian and in turn its inhabitants had demonized the changeling. Painting the species as a feral and mindless beast that was in the form of a man and that only served as a puppet for its overlord, and who eagerly threw themselves to the fire of war without hesitation or thought. All of which was eagerly sponsored and promoted by artists, biologists, and government-sponsored parties in any way that they could.

But the changeling that sat in front of Zephyr who was smoking a pipe and laughing was different. Yes the changeling was thin, inhumanely thin, and skeletal, and it showed its insectoid-like heritage, but it was not to the point of it being a sign of its inherent evil or the like. Instead, it simply seemed to be that it was. Such as how the praying mantis may be thin, the beetle heavy and large, and the ant tiny yet strong. Nothing seemed to be off about it.

No muscles, no organs, no hair, and not a speck of anything that could be found on the surface of a man was on the surface of the changeling. Only segmented chitin made up the skin that could be seen on the changeling. With each little plate that served as their exo-skeleton-like skin interlocking and moving with one another in perfect harmony, a fine example of mother nature and evolution. A far cry from the heavy and garish plate that was seen on the posters and television everywhere.

However, the one thing that struck Zephyr the most, and perhaps that dispelled any lingering thoughts he had of the Equestria’s portrayal of changelings was their eyes. They were human, shockingly human. Soft gray eyes with pupils very much like his own looked across the table to the Thestral. They blinked, they moved left, they moved right, and as they did Zephyr could feel something in him shatter. He didn’t know what it was, but he knew a part of him had changed, just for the life of him he couldn't figure out what it was exactly. Was it the propaganda he heard? Was it judging other species in the world? Or maybe it was just him realizing the changeling eyes were quite human. Human enough that they could be for average people even if they were different.

However, before he could ruminate any further he was interrupted by a voice that came from within the room. It spoke a language that he didn’t know of so he only made a confused expression as he tilted his head to look towards the source.

The source of this was the priest, who was fiddling with a knife that he expertly between in his hands. The knife expertly moved from finger to finger like a coin with the priest not even sparing a passing glance at it.

“Uhm, sorry I don’t speak your language,” Zephyr said, shaking his head to clear his thoughts as he awkwardly stood in the doorway of the room before he laughed a bit. “I don’t exactly speak dragonish or changeling, what were you saying?”

“I was asking if you were okay,” replied the priest in Equestrian. The tone of his voice was ragged and charred compared to the smooth and often sage-like tone that Zephyr had heard from priests back in Equestria. “You don’t look good.”

“What do you mean?” Zephyr asked with a raised eyebrow. “I feel fine.”

“You look like shit, and like the time when I was back in the legions running through the jungle trying to chase blacktails.” the priest said with a flat tone and expression before it softened. “Good memories, but ones that still itch at me that’s for sure.

The changeling barked something with a scoff from their workplace that had the priest empathetically nod.

“Mhmh,” the priest hummed, “whether it’s in the jungle or the north, some things just don’t change.”

“But anyway,” the priest said, refocusing his attention on Zephyr and pointing to the suitcase that he had. “What are you here for? You lost?”

“Not really,” Zephyr said with a bit of a shy look before he pointed to the door that he came from. “I was just wondering what was going on here. I was in the lobby a few minutes ago when I saw someone carrying a bunch of boxes and I got curious. Followed them and I ended up here.”

“Well, there's not much in there if you're wondering. Just papers, charts, chocolate, whiskey, and cigars” the priest listed off before eventually opening a box that was filled with cigars and holding one out to Zephyr. “Want one? It’s premium stuff.”

“Sure,” Zephyr said with a half-baked nod as he took the cigar and with the help of a light from the priest began smoking. The cigar itself Zephyr could tell was indeed premium or at the very least quality. The smell it had was unlike any other, with it being rich and dark, and entirely free of ash, tar, and unneeded chemical supplements that were found in ordinary cigarettes.

Still, a single puff of it sent Zephyr hacking and coughing as he quickly popped the cigar from his mouth and braced himself against the sofa. And all the while the priest laughed.

“Never smoked?” the priest said as he held out a hand for the cigar.

“Not really,” Zephyr admitted as he handed it over. “Spent years in classrooms and diners that were filled with smoke and I just can’t handle it anymore.”

“Mhmh, a shame then” the priest hummed as he took the cigar into his mouth before taking a puff. “Good on you for giving it a try though.”

“Thanks,” Zephyr said as the tips of his mouth curled up. “I aim to please.”

The priest simply nodded as he took a few more puffs, his eyes slowly becoming glazed with drugged contentment. Soon after they turned their focus back onto Zephyr, wanting to know more.

“Well you know what you know now, does that satisfy your curiosity?” the priest asked as he took a drag before turning to Zephyr with an interrogative expression. “Or is there anything else I can help you with?”

“Only if you have the time for it,” Zephyr said with a loose laugh, “I’m just running around The Isles wondering what’s going on, asking people questions, and seeing what I can get myself into,” he finished with a shrug. “Nothing special.”

“So you can report it back home?” the priest said with a raised eyebrow.

“So I can learn about it for myself,” Zephyr said with a smile. “Homes…not exactly a good place to return to at the moment.”

“Is that so?” the priest said, his eyes filled with curiosity, “if I may be so inclined to ask, but why? Is it gone and you're looking for a new place to settle or are you running from it.”

“The latter,” Zephyr answered hesitantly. “Things were getting too hot, I wanted to get out, and here I am. I don’t plan on staying long, however. Maybe a day or two before moving on.”

“Interesting,” the priest said, “any idea how you plan to get out?”

“I uh, well I’ll figure it out,” Zephyr said faltering for a bit before ending it with a shrug. “I managed to get here when my country was in lockdown so I'm sure I’ll find a way to get out of here in time.”

And Zephyr honestly wasn’t sure how he was going to get out. Was he going to smuggle himself into another cargo ship? Hire someone to fly him from The Isles into the south or east continent? He knew he couldn't just fly there, it was too much work, and he didn’t have the talent or the skill for it. Only certain people could and they trained, things like that for months. Something that he hadn’t done before. He flew for fun, not for exercise after all.

Plus his wings were still broken from the guards, and while he couldn't feel the pain that he had in them before when they initially broke, he knew that something was wrong with them. Wings for sure didn’t feel heavy and like they were made out of stone, moving them around didn’t feel like he was nearly pulling a muscle, and they didn’t look the way that they did now. With them looking like they were played with by a kid with a penchant for breaking toys.

Maybe he could try to find someone that would be willing to help. Ms. Coffin was still out of the question, she was just too busy and filled with too important matters to help someone like him, but maybe someone else could? Maybe, maybe.

Something to do later, Zephyr thought to himself as he began to end his thoughts, someone's bound to help eventually if I start asking enough, and especially if I offer some cash.

“Well, best of luck to you with that,” the priest said with a nod and a puff of smoke, “not sure if you're stupid, if you desperate, or you're brave, but it’ll make for an interesting story at the very least at the end of this.” There was a pause before they added, “If you make it out of here alive of course.”

“And to help with that I'm going to fulfill your little wish, the priest continued, stretching out his arms with a smile. “What can this old man answer for someone like you ah,” they paused for a moment before quipping, “tourist?”

That remark sent Zephyr laughing a bit. First being seen as a refugee or a hobo, next a nobody, next a journalist or an official, and finally a tourist? I wonder what they’re gonna call me next, Zephyr wondered to himself as he started talking.

“Helping me understand what’s going on would help,” Zephyr said with a smile from the man’s quip. “If you have the time of course.”

“And that I do, but first introductions,” the priest said, taking a moment to stretch before holding out a hand. “Father Silver, and yours?”

“Zephyr, just Zephyr” Zephyr said, taking out the man’s gloved hand and shaking it. “Mind giving me a good place to start before I start hitting you with twenty questions?”

“That I can,” Father Silver said with a nod as he pointed to one of the documents that was on the table before reaching over to grab it. Shuffling through the papers for a moment they settled on which and they began to talk, but just before they quickly held up the documents that were on the table in the general direction of the changeling before saying something.

The changeling took another hit from the pipe that they smoked before they let loose a small cloud of pink-tinted smoke and ended it with a nod.

“This Zephyr is options, and information,” Father Silver said as he returned to the documents and pored through them. “Information in the form of a gift.”

“A gift?” Zephyr said somewhat with some disbelief as he pointed a finger towards it. “You're sure there's not a jack in the box or some strings attached to it?”

“No sir, nothing like that,” the priest said as they took another puff and their face split into a smile, “we’re just here to tell them something that we’re both sure they would be interested in.”

“And what would that be?” Zephyr asked with a raised eyebrow. “Blueprints? Weapons? An alliance of some sort.”

“No, nothing like that,” the priest said as they shuffled through the documents before taking out a small folder, and within moments producing a set of images that they laid down on the table. The picture of which was The Badlands.

“Tell me, what do you know about this place?” the priest said as he tapped a finger against it, their face becoming like stone as they did so. “And give me as much info as you can, the more the better.”

“Well, I know that it’s home to a bunch of dragons that have been there since sun knows how long. And I know the place also has one of the largest skeletons in existence, ” Zephyr rattled off as he tried to recall the lessons that he was in back in school.

“But that’s all I've got, other than it being in Equestria there's not much else I know about it, ” he ended with a sheepish shrug towards Father Silver. “Sorry.”

“At least you admitted it.” Father Silver said with a nod before he turned his attention towards the images. “Now let me tell you what you’ve missed.

“Because I'm sure you know the relations between Equestrians and dragons are cold internationally, but they are downright hostile in that area,” Father Silver began. “The clans in the area raid the surrounding places for loot, they hurt people, and they make off with cash, fuel, cars, and whatever they can find. Equestria and in turn the local populace want the dragons to stop, but the dragons refuse because they are dragons. Simple right?”

“Right,” Zephyr said with a nod. He was well aware of dragons still raiding trucks, cars, and people from time to time. People didn’t make movies, books, and fantasy stories out of them after all.

“Good, and moving on,” Father Silver said as he started to shuffle through the documents. “As I’ve mentioned Equestria has made demands with the threat of military action in the past to coerce the dragons to stop, but they haven’t done anything yet.”

“Why not?” Zephyr asked.

“Because of the hand of The Twin Monarchs and politics,” Father Silver said. “I guess in their eyes they aren’t willing to start a war with a minority. Why? Because ordering a bunch of troops to drive them off your land doesn't exactly make you the upholder of harmony anymore in your eyes, does it? ”

“No, no it doesn't,” Zephyr said with a shake of his head. “Makes you more of a dictator than anything else.”

“Mmhmh,” Father Silver hummed as he finally took out the document he was looking for and laid it on the table, “but now things are different because something very important has just been discovered in that area” he finished by tapping the document with a smile. “Something very important to a lot of people.”

Craning his head over to look, Zephyr slid the document over to himself as he looked through it. He couldn't understand the language that was on it as it was in the language of the Isles, but he could understand the meaning of it. It was a survey report by someone looking for something, and by the looks of their handwriting whatever the prospector was looking for they found it, a lot of it.

“Is what I think it is,” Zephyr said as he looked at the report in disbelief, “how did they get to it? Aren't the badlands restricted?”

“It is,” said Father Silver with a nod, “but they ignored it, sent a crew under the cover of night, got the results, and got out as fast as they could after. Dragon's may be vigilant, but they eventually sleep like everyone else, and when you feel like you're on the top of the world, keeping watch isn’t exactly something you do.”

“I guess,” Zephyr said somewhat unsure as he looked at the report as it now carried an ominous aura on it. “What did they find?”

“What didn’t they find?” Father Silver replied with a dark chuckle. “The place is a motherlode for industrial resources: crystal, steel, oil, and with all of them in ample supply. Everything any nation young or old could ever want.”

“Especially one in a time of crisis, “Zephyr said deflating as he began to connect the dots. The badlands was by itself, its relations to Equestria somewhat cold, its parent nation being hundreds of miles away, and populated by dragons. Dragons did the things they always did: raiding, looting, hoarding, whatever they wanted, and refusing any chance of diplomacy on them being dragons. Something had to break, and this might have been it.

The only question was, what now? Zephyr turned to the priest and asked him the question, and when he did Father Silver smiled a smile full of teeth. One that knew all too well of the situation at hand.

“What do you think is going to happen?” Father Silver asked Zephyr his smile, now a cheshire grin. “By my guess, Equestria is going to say they’ve had enough, roll up with some tanks, and make their demands loud and clear. If the dragons acquiesce to their demands then they get what they want and everything is fine, but if they don’t they’ll take it by force.”

“But would Equestria do that?” Zephyr asked somewhat disbelievingly. “I mean as you said before, wouldn't it make them look bad on the world stage?”

“With the situation as it is right now? Who would even care?” Father Silver asked Zephyr. “They are dragons after all, they’ve hurt everybody in the past, and I assure you everyone would want to see them put down a peg or two for the arrogance they have.”

“And that isn’t even mentioning the situation as it is right now for Equestria,” Father Silver continued, “ desperate times make for desperate measures. And hurting thousands so you can potentially save millions with it is good math in everyone’s eyes, especially if those thousands are seen as criminals in the eyes of the world. I mean, wouldn't you?” he asked Zephyr. “Would you kill a criminal so you can potentially save a family?”

“I mean,” Zephyr tried to say before he stopped and instead merely covered his eyes with his thumb and index before sighing. He didn’t know. He was certain before with the weapon, but in the circumstances of that question, he was unsure now. Would he? Should he? He didn’t like the idea of hurting people, but maybe he could make an exception.

He didn’t know. He just didn’t know. The thought of it all made him feel queasy and ill. There had to be some sort of third option in that event, one in which he didn’t need to do either one and didn’t have to choose.

Father Silver merely hummed in acknowledgment of Zephyr's hesitation and internal conflict. Eventually going back to the documents, he grabbed a series of them now, all of which seemed to be letters.

“Well regardless of your answer tourist, something is starting to happen that’s for sure,” Father Silver said to Zephyr he took a minute to look at one of the letters in his hands. “It could be nothing and everything that I say is just a lie, but it could be something real, something very real, and if it isn’t stopped in one way or another, then a lot of people are going to get hurt.”

“And even if it can’t be stopped,” Father Silver said as he tossed the documents onto the table, each revealing coded correspondents, “I would want to know who my friends are.” He stopped to look at Zephyr with an earnest look, his fat cigar idly for a moment, “I mean wouldn't you?”

Zephyr only gave a numb nod to Father Silver, whose priest smiled and gathered the documents and put them back in their appropriate folders.

“So that’s what we’re here for,” he explained as he finished putting them away and took another drag. “At least, what the changelings are here for.”

“The changelings?” Zephyr said, rousing for a moment and blinking his eyes in confusion as he turned to Father Silver. “How did they manage to learn about this?”

“How else do you think they did?” Father Silver said with a chuckle. “A few disguises here, a bit of treachery there, and before you know it, you have what you have here right now, but that isn’t important,” he said, patting Zephyr on the shoulder to distract him. “What is important is what they are willing to offer them.”

“And what would that be?” Zephyr mumbled out.

“The information of course,” Father Silver replied as he wrapped one of his arms around Zephyr's neck before holding out his arm like he was a car salesman, “but most importantly, friendship.”

“Friendship?” Zephyr said, confused. “What do you mean?”

“What else do you think it could be,” Father Silver said with a chuckle. “The chance to make a friend with someone who cares, the chance to make a friend with someone willing to help, to listen, and if need be avenging what will be wrongfully done to them. The chance for there to be peace between the dragons and the changelings,” he finished with an earnest smile before finishing with, “and perhaps something more.”

“I uhm,” Zephyr faltered as he tried to process it. He was conflicted with that information, to say the least, and didn’t know how to react to it. On one hand, peace was good, peace was nice, people didn’t die during peace, people weren’t being forcefully recruited into the army, rationing wasn’t enforced, and so much more. It was something that desired more than anything right now, to be in a nation at peace, and perhaps it could be something that many dragons desired as well, hopefully.

But on the other hand, it would leave Equestria in the dark and leave it entirely alone against the changeling threat. After all, the changelings were at war with Equestria, and from what he now knew the relations between both dragons and Equestrians were volatile, very volatile. Would they being friends with the changelings be enough for it to explode into war? One in which the threat to the country and harmony was on both sides? What would happen then? Could Equestria survive a war in which they were surrounded?

He didn’t know, Zephyr just didn’t know what to do with the information or what to make of it. Thinking about it sent a stone straight into his gut, it itched his hair, and it filled his head with anxietic static to the point he was nearly left speechless. The only thing he could think to say or even do was just ask a simple, “why?”

“Why?” Father Silver scoffed in a joking manner, “why not? As far as I'm aware the changelings don’t hate the dragons, they only hate Equestria for what they have done to them.”

“Oi,” Father Silver said, turning towards the changeling to get their attention, “Mind waking up for a minute.”

The changeling did so taking a moment to stretch from their work and to raise an eyebrow in anticipation for what the thestral priest would say next.

“Just to confirm for the tourist here,” Father Silver said, patting Zephyr on the back, “do the changelings hate the dragons?”

The changeling shook their head in response.

“Good,” he said with a nod. “Do you know why?”

The changeling answered in a language that Zephyr didn’t know and to which the Thestral intently listened. When they finished Father Silver simply nodded and gestured for them to get back to their work which they did with gusto,

“Just in case you didn’t know what the changeling said,“ Father Silver started to explain to Zephyr. “The dragons don’t hate the changelings or are interested in going to war against them because you can’t harvest love from a dragon.”

“You can’t?” Zephyr asked him, “why not?”

“Some quirk in their biology or magic I guess,” he answered with a shrug. “But that isn’t the only thing, because the more important part is that the dragons have a history with them.”

‘They do?” Zephyr asked again. “How?”

“Past deals, a lack of actual conflict between the two that isn’t one or two uppity elders or whelps running around having fun, having a line of communication that has been maintained, but most importantly, respect and in turn recognition to their current ruler’s lineage,” Father Silver said, patting Zephyr while he had a wistful smile. “After all, they helped her distant ancestors in the past by sending mercenaries to help them establish their rule. When their current ruler's mother died they were the only ones that sent a letter of sympathy to her. When she was crowned formally when she was of age they were the only ones that gave them gifts from the changelings' ancient past to celebrate, and so much more.”

“But,” Zephyr tried to say before he was shushed by the Thestral priest.

“I know what you're going to say,” Father Silver quickly interrupted Zephyr, pressing a finger to Zephyr’s mouth. “How could a changeling be friends with a dragon? Well, friendships come in many strange shapes or sizes in our modern day. And should one hate the idea of friendship and harmony blossoming in this unique way?”

“Should they?” he pressed Zephyr,” or should they hate it because it’s…unnatural,” he finished with air quotes.

“No, I-i-I guess not,” Zephyr struggled to say as his mind still reeled in shock. “One shouldn't hate friendship and harmony between the changelings and the dragons. After all, hating it would go against the ideas of it.”

“Good,” Father Silver said with a smile as he unhooked Zephyr from his arm. “Do you have any other questions I can answer?

“I uhm,” Zephyr faltered for a minute as he tried to blink away the confusion before taking a moment to breathe. It was just too much, the information was just too much, its potential consequences as well, and he didn’t know what to do with it. The priest and the changeling could say such things or keep them in mind without much thought, with them paying it little more mind than saying a fact about the weather, but him? No, it merely just sent him to his knees mentally. This was…something, something big, very big, and he didn’t want any part of it.

Reeling, shaking a bit, and his head flooding with mental static, Zephyr looked for something, anything, to hold onto, to ask, to listen, and to draw his attention away from contemplating what could come next for the world, for Equestria, and potentially the war back home. He found it in the man’s unique outfit and what he wore.

“Uhm, sir,” Zephyr stuttered out as he pointed a shaking finger at the man’s necklace. “What is that”?”

The necklace that Father Silver wore was a strange thing that he’d never seen before with a set of beads decorating along the chain, and that which ended into a small pendant. And engraved on it was a silhouette against the moon made entirely from polished moonstone, whose depiction reminded Zephyr of The Monarch of The Moon, but in a way that didn’t seem like it. He didn’t know how to describe it, but the silhouette simply looked wrong. Not malicious or even bad, just wrong from what he knew of the depictions of The Monarch of The Moon.

“This?” Father Silver asked as he took out the pendant and looked at it, his face becoming soft. “It’s a sign of my faith, my rank, the people who I live with, and who I belong to.” There was a thoughtful pause before he finished with, “in a way it is everything.”

“Everything huh,” Zephyr worded out like he was chewing the words as he spoke them while he tried to calm down. It was a strange thing for a man to place so much on such a little thing. Why? Why was that thing so important to him? Wanting to know he voiced his question to Father Silver who had for the first time in his eyes seemed worn and old. The boisterous, loud, and convincing part of him that he wore had faded away leaving only a tired old man in front of him. One who wasn’t old in years, but instead in experience.

“Well,” Father Silver said with some hesitation as he nervously scratched the back of his neck. Taking a moment to remove the cigar from his mouth he placed it on the table as he looked towards the map, “I suppose to begin, what do you know of The Twin Monarchs?”

“Not that much,” Zephyr honestly answered with a shrug. “I know they rule over us, I know that they raise the sun and moon, that they are immortal and powerful, but not much more than that.” He decided to leave out part of The Librarian’s incident from his answer, it didn’t exactly feel polite to say that he knew that they could go insane, and turn into beasts.

“I see,” Father Silver answered with a smile. “Then what do you know about Nightmare Moon? Do you know where she came from? What she did, and what she promised to do?”

“Her?” Zephyr said dubiously as he scratched the back of his neck, “again not much. Just that she was some sort of evil side to the Monarch of The Moon I suppose. One that planned to keep the night ongoing forever. If you ask me, that doesn't exactly sound like a good plan. I mean, don’t you need the sun to see, make plants, and stuff?”

“I suppose so,” Father Silver said with a chuckle. “It is true that plants would certainly have a harder time growing if the sun is away.”

“But,” he said, raising a finger, “ that problem can be resolved quite easily and that wasn’t the only thing she wanted to do.”

“What was that?” Zephyr asked as the last dregs of his anxiety had fully faded away, now replaced only by interest and curiosity in the subject at hand.

“She promised equality and a golden age,” Father Silver said, “one that would be given to us by a firm and tempered hand. Not being afraid to do what must be done nor never to forget the tenets of humanity or kindness.”

He sighed before he softly said,” she promised us these things and she was murdered for it.”

“Murdered?” Zephyr said with some disbelief, that last part didn’t feel right, it didn’t feel right at all. “Are you sure you said that right? I don’t think she was murdered. Wasn’t she sealed away?”

“Yes I did,” Father Silver confirmed his resolution to the answer with a nod, “whether she was murdered or sealed away, the consequences for it are the same I believe. She was wiped away from history, her memory becoming nothing more than a ghost. How many people remember her for what she could have been, what she promised? Of the good that she could have done for us, for you, for me, the world?”

He looked at Zephyr with a scowl, his face having hardened into stone, “or how many people remember her for what she is now? Nothing more than a scary story to tell children?”

“Not that many I guess,” Zephyr hesitantly agreed with a shrug. “So that’s it? Do you worship her for that? The promise of what she could have done?”

“Not exactly,” Father Silver replied hesitantly, “there are many aspects to the faith, and whose details are simply too varied to go into now. It would take me hours to properly explain it all, but,” he said musing for a moment, “what I can say is that what she promised us was real, very real. And for many of us, that is what drives us to our faith in her, for the promises that she made us and how the world reacted to it. ”

“Really?” Zephyr said unwittingly, “is that real for you?”

The priest simply nodded in response, and when he did Zephyr knew something about him. To him, it was as real as his own heart beating in his chest, definitive, firm, and unyielding. He would rather die than ever abandon his faith and creed.

A silent moment between the two ensued. With Zephyr contemplating what he had heard, the realization of the political situation of The Isles faded away with the knowledge of whatever that the priest in front of him worshiped. All the while questions ran through his mind: where did the faith come from, why did the faith happen, what were its exact details, was there something about Nightmare Moon that Zephyr or the world didn’t know about, and where could he learn more if not here?

Like always Zephyr wanted to know and he voiced a question to the priest hoping for a response, and when he did the priest cracked an eyebrow in response as a look flashed across his face; one of pleasant surprise mixed with uncertainty and doubt.

“Are you that curious to know more?” Father Silver asked Zephyr the softness in his eyes fading away into a sharp edge. “Why would you want to?”

“I don’t know,” Zephyr confessed with a shrug. “It just sounds like something to do, something to learn, and I guess perhaps to have a story to tell back home if I ever make it back,” he finished with a hollow laugh. “Not sure when that’ll happen, but if it does, it would be nice.”

“I suppose so,” Father Silver agreed with some hesitation, “but it is hard to learn more as the place in which my faith resides is hidden from the world.” He stopped for a moment to fix Zephyr, a glare that ran through him, “are you curious enough to learn more, even if doing so can cost you dearly?”

“ I guess?” Zephyr answered with some hesitation and more than a bit of obliviousness as he nudged his suitcase. “If you mean cash I think I have enough to get me a round trip through the world and anywhere I want. Pretty sure I can even charter a plane or a boat if it costs me enough to get there.”

The man only stared still looking at Zephyr, now as if he were a jeweler looking for a flaw in a gem. Zephyr only nervously sweated in response.

“I mean I don’t know,” he continued, now starting to babble,” it just is what it is. If you don't want me to know, that’s fine. I’m sure I can live without it or maybe find some college out there that know-”

“No, there's no need for that,” the priest interrupted Zephyr with a raised hand. If you truly wish to know then I will tell you.” He then began to get up as he whispered to himself, “it should be relatively harmless anyway.”

Harmless? Zephyr thought to himself with some alarm as he watched Father Silver walk to the map that was on the board. He looked at it for a time before he eventually placed a finger on the western side of the continent. “

“The home of my faith and my birthplace is a town named Moonspeaker Hollow in a nation called Chiroptera,” Father Silver said. “It is a small place that is hidden from the world, and if you wish to reach it you will have some difficulty, to say the least. No official plane or boat knows of the place, nor will they ever dare to go there directly. ”

The finger trailed down towards what Zephyr could guess to be the northern coast of Maregyptia. “Because of that, you will have to seek an alternative. If you ever find yourself within the coast of north Maregyptia look around and you may find several fishermen who are very much like me,” he said pointing towards himself. “Tell them you are a distant cousin, and that you wish to pay homage to the moon. They may act confused at first, perhaps even deny any knowledge of what you say, but act calm, persist, and they will respond, especially if you show them this.”

And taking a moment to calm himself as if he were to do something that he knew he might regret, he took off his necklace, and a few of his rings, cleaned them for a moment, and tenderly held them out to Zephyr.

“Here,” he said, shaking his hand a bit for emphasis. “I do not have any spares so you will have to take mine. Keep it, it is yours.”

“Thank you?” Zephyr answered hesitantly as he grabbed the necklace and the rings before he inspected it for a moment. Both were silver, meticulously handcrafted, and in turn had the same depiction that Zephyr now had an answer for, Nightmare Moon.

He put it on, with the rings on his pinky and ring, and the necklace around his neck. Father Silver smiled.

“Hopefully they will be of some help to you on your… worldwide tour,” he said, his figures still tense but slowly relaxing. “Sadly, I believe that this will be the end of our discussions for now. I have work that I need to do, and I'm sure that you have places to visit, people to talk to, and sights to see.”

“I guess so,” Zephyr said, noticing and taking his cue to stand up, grab his suitcase, and walk toward the door. “Thank you again for the information.”

“It is the least that I can do,” Father Silver answered as he escorted Zephyr out, “a missionary should always be willing to help those who are in need, especially if they wish to know of the faith.”

Zephyr merely hummed in response as he was led out of the room and to the door, but before he did he asked the missionary a question that nearly escaped him. What was Chiropterra or someone like him doing here anyway?

“Oh, that '' Father Silver said, laughing a bit as if it was an afterthought as he began to close the door. “We are here to merely hear out the dragon’s opinion on the view of us Thestrals and of our lady Nightmare Moon. If things go well and with their permission, we may establish a religious outpost so that I and others may spread the faith. All the while providing the knowledge of our expertise to them.”

“But what if things do-”” Zephyr tried to say before the door closed on him and shut out his ability to learn anymore on the subject.

Hehm, guess that’s that, he thought to himself as he stared out the door before he looked at his newfound jewelry. It reminded him of something, but what? Wanting an answer he took a moment to search through his things.

And his answer came in the form of the idol that he had picked before from outside the cave. The figure that was on it was remarkably similar to Nightmare Moon, shockingly similar, and with it a realization entered his mind.

If both Celestia and Luna, The Twin Monarchs of Equestria, could turn, what would happen if they did? Nightmare Moon had a cult following far-off part of the worle, one that was apparantly a nation, was deeply fanatical, had secluded itself from the rest of the world, and was willing to wait centuries for her. If Celestia turned, would she want the same thing? What would happen to Equestria then? Would she start a new cult based on her corrupted ideals whatever they may be that was just as fanatical as the one he now knew? What would happen if they both turned at the same time?

That last thought sent a deep shiver down Zephyr’s spine. Whatever the result is, it wouldn't be pretty. And if he could hazard a guess The Isles would be wrapped up in it too, whether they wanted or not. The chance was small, but it still existed, and he wasn’t going to take a chance.

Wordlessly he left the hotel and made his way into the streets. The faster he got out of here, the better. Hopefully to somewhere safe, wherever that was…if it even existed.

Author's Note

This chapter was interesting to write to me as during it I was able to talk and to partially answer a main conflict that I would say would occur for the dragons in EaW. What do you do to survive the coming years of global conflict?

Do you seek patronage with the changelings who treat you with more respect than any other nation due to centuries of political maneuvering from Torch and past Dragonlords? Their ruler may be evil and a bit delusional, but she is a proud person who is more than willing to uphold and reignite old friendships and treaties. It's an easy decision, but one that can bring worrisome results as Ember slowly realizes the full extent of what decades of hate have done to the changeling queen.

Perhaps The Isles can do so instead with Equestria the closest neighbor to them. It's an obvious decision with obvious benefits such as supporting harmony, having a close ally, the possibility of becoming a protectorate by Equestria, and more. However there will be problems after with the issue of the badlands being one of them, their violent and tense past with the Equestrians, and the dragons potentially being forever being viewed as primitive savages, and who have in the eyes of Equestrian's have burdened them with the task of civilizing them. Allying with Equestria won't simply be a lossless benefit to my eyes.

Or do you instead strike it out alone? Becoming entirely neutral and staying out of the conflict. You may be weaker alone, but you will have your independence and nobody will bother you then...at least until a certain Gryphon does.

Regardless of the decisions I do want to state that allying with one partner or another won't deny one's ideology. Ember and the dragons can still be harmonic even if they are aligned with the changelings or to become fascist if they are aligned with the Equestrians. Tough times make for tough decisions after all and the world's view on the dragons will remain more or less the same in the end. They will sadly forever be viewed as a proud but power hungry primitive people and left out of the "room where it happens" when the time comes.
Hopefully this idea was interesting to think about and sorry for the text block. I'll try to keep it short from here on out.

Chapter Eight: A Chance Encounter.

A few hours later alone and with his thoughts, Zephyr didn’t know what else to do as he walked down the streets in the middle of the night. Go to a store? It was still midnight, and dragons still slept at the somewhat normal hours that everyone else. Look for a place to sleep? He didn’t feel tired. Look for a place to eat. He could, but he didn’t feel hungry, and oddly enough the thought much less the act of eating felt strangely off. It had been a few weeks ever since he got the compass, a few weeks since he had met with discord, and in those few weeks, he hadn’t had anything to drink, drink, or even sleep. How did chewing or even swallowing work again?

Stopping for a moment Zephyr awkwardly tried to recreate the motions that he remembered. As he did his mouth felt stiff, his jaw felt loose, and something in his head about this said that it was wrong, very wrong, but for what reasons he didn’t know. That thought whatever it was simply evaded him.

It was strange, very strange. He didn’t feel the need to do any of those things anymore, at least not as long as he didn’t think about it. Because if he did it felt like a distant gnawing at his head. Annoying, and unpleasant, but something that could be ignored so that it wouldn't bother him, and it was strangely easy doing so. Like the thought was a magnet and he was another one turned upside down. He could feel the pressure on his head if he thought about it or tried to do it, but as long as he ignored it, it went away. If he did focus on it it simply tried to evade him, only becoming apparent if he wanted it to be. So far, he had been without twenty or so odd days of running around with Discord’s blessing and without much trouble so far.

Or was it even twenty days? The other part of Discord’s blessing didn’t help with keeping track of time either. Because that dealt with something important, very important, time, and his memory. Things felt foggy as he walked from place to place, or did things that he didn’t actively involve himself with. Interviewing the people in the chancery or the hotel for example was easy and it kept him focused.

But the moment that he walked out of it, or he let himself have a few moments to relax that didn’t end up going from room to room like in the chancery then the feeling came over again. It was like switching the channel so that your TV only played static while you raised the volume. Thoughts became hard to have to the point where you didn’t have them anymore, your vision blurred, your actions felt sluggish, and before you knew it you blacked out. Only coming back in the circumstances when one event was about to happen: the train coming to a stop, night coming back on the boat, and before he even got to The Isles going from place to place.

The biggest example of this? The Everfree. He didn’t realize this until now, but going through it was very much like before now that he reflected on the trip. Ordinarily going through the Everfree would take someone a week on average if they didn’t know what they were doing, and three days if they had a guide and a trail, but he managed to do it in a single night. Something that he heard was impossible or at the very least was only done by a particular alchemist in that forest before.

But…was it a single night? He never saw a search party after, or even one before, but he did see one during it, or did he? The memory part of those little trips thanks to Discord’s blessing didn’t help with things. He could remember things happening during those times he faded away, but faintly. Almost as if they were written on paper with ink and they were washed away with water. With him only being able to make out a word or two on it, but nothing more than that.

Within that case he could remember walking through the forest, going through trees, tripping over logs, and the distant light beams from flashlights, but…nothing more than that: no words, no guards, no vehicles, nothing. Nothing except that faint inkling that he had in his head that it was real, but combined with the confusion that maybe it was just a dream and he was imagining things.

But this isn’t me dreaming, this is real, Zephyr tried to reassure himself as he stood alone in the empty streets. I can breathe, I can feel the weight of my suitcase, I can see the rings that Father Silver gave me, and If I pinch myself to the point it hurts I don’t wake up. He stopped his thoughts for a moment before he admitted to himself, eh, that last one takes some effort though. He wiped away a bit of blood from the small cut that was on his hand.

“But still, I don't know where I am, what time it is, or even what day it is,” Zephyr grumbled out loud to himself as he took a look around with a grimace. “Hmph feels like I'm back in the medieval fairs for sun’s sake.”

The reason for why he said this was because he was in the northern districts of The Isles, and all around him were keeps, manors, country houses, and more, all of which were fit not for ordinary men, but instead giants. Giants that were either twice his size at the regular and small, or five or ten times as tall depending if they were old, but all of which were elaborate and palace-like in their quality. One that felt felt larger and taller as he got closer.

Because in this place a low stone cut wall that he saw minutes before was a border became a high wall for him when he got closer, a simple garden turned into a sprawling field, ordinary statues became masterpieces, a fanciful stone gate, and the entire place was laid down with mosaiced brick. Every place that he could see on his sight had enough space inside to move around, sprawl, host a party, and do whatever the owner wanted with space to spare. He knew a single place like this would go for a king's ransom back home, but here and now it all just felt like an ordinary suburban home. One that anyone who was anyone in The Isles could easily afford with the cash and the treasure he knew they had.

“I guess that’s the only thing that they could do with it, to be honest,” Zephyr mused to himself as he looked at a wall and idly picked at it with his fingernail. “That or store it all away for a rainy day that’ll never come.”

He didn’t know why, but the more he looked at the wonder, the splendor, and the pure wealth that this place had the more it made him feel sad. All of this cash, this wealth, this treasure being spent on nothing but fancy manors, pools, gardens, and more for what? Looking around he noticed that none of them even seemed to be inhabited right now. He couldn't hear anything, he couldn't see any lights from any of the buildings around him, and he was sure that if he simply walked in nobody would ever think to look. It was just a big waste of cash to his eyes that did nothing for a dragon apart from giving them something to do with the money they had.

But, what else was there to do if you were a dragon and you weren’t interested in technology or modern-day products? Use it to help the poor? No, not that, never. Because from what Zephyr knew, even if It was prejudiced, dragons didn’t pay attention to that kind of stuff. If you weren’t on the top or if you weren’t family, then you were fit to be nothing more than gutter trash fit for the rats. The strong and the wise ruled, the weak or those that were best in the position to serve, and life moved on as it had for his guess to be time immemorial.

Shame the only way things are different now is because they're facing extinction I guess,” Zephyr mused to himself as he moved on. I’m positive they know they are being scammed for everything they buy, but with the way things are now, they probably don’t care. As the others have said, amass as much tech as you can, modernize, and do what you can before it’s too late.

Honestly, I wonder what they could have done if they weren’t focused on saving themselves from this. Zephyr mused to himself as he walked down the sidewalk before he let out a melancholic sigh. “Probably something big, something lasting, and maybe even something beautiful. Nothing like what the lady near the port is doing I'm sure.”

“Well,” a voice said from his left side, “if you want to find out, I can tell you.”

“Hmm?” Zephyr blurted, turning around to face the source of the noise confused. Had he heard what he thought?

The source of the noise came to be a woman who was inside one of the buildings that he was walking alongside. The house itself was a country house of sorts and sporting a large iron fence with bars thicker than he was and each being over fifteen feet tall. The woman was dressed in a macabre outfit of gray robes that were decorated with skulls, bones, and small macabre fetishes. All of which was finished with a gray stone mask that made it impossible to figure out what they were underneath.

“Did you,” he started to word out before he was interrupted.

“A lucky guess,” she said brushing off the accusation, “I've had those thoughts before when I got here enough times that I've stopped counting on just what the dragons could do if they focused on something that wasn’t for themselves.”

“And what conclusion did you come to?” he asked her, putting a hand on his hip and raising an eyebrow.

“That they could do something brave, something heroic, and something that nobody had ever done before,” she answered him. “All without spending a single cent if they just cared enough.”

She waved for him to come inside, and he did, squeezing through the iron bars with only a grunt of effort before he walked through the courtyards until he was face to face with her.

“So,” Zephyr said, taking a quick look at her. “Mind telling me about it? What is it?”

“Well,” she playfully said, “it’s about them taking in a group of people that have been hated across the entire world for being who they are without expecting much in return.”

“Are they bad people?” he asked her with a raised eyebrow. “Murderers, criminals, thieves?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Perhaps who they may have been affiliated with in the past, but not them. They’ve never hurt anyone nor have any intention to at the moment.”

“Well,” Zephyr said snorting playfully. “Who are these people? Are they refugees from another country? Scientists working on experimental weapons? Soldiers or mercenaries?”

“Scholars in an obscure art that’s been hated across the world,” she answered him, “necromancy.”

And with that last word, Zephyr’s playful demeanor melted away as a cold air came into the conversation. He’d heard of necromancy before, everyone had in the modern day, whether it was from a book, a show, or reading the laws, the general knowledge about it was clear. Necromancy was the art of raising the dead, getting them to serve you, and setting them loose among the living. Something highly illegal and punishable by death today, even in Equestria.

Zephyr took a step back in fear. He’d heard of what they could do if you let them have a chance. Of how they could drain your soul with a look, rip the bones from your body with a touch, and imprison your soul into a gem that kept them alive and strong but that slowly drained you until you were nothing. The movies may have exaggerated them to some degree, but the history books didn’t. Entire towns and civilizations were confirmed wiped clean from the earth by them and a tidal wave of the undead.

Knowing what he was most likely thinking, the robed woman merely rolled her eyes.

“Oh don’t give me that look,” she snapped at him, annoyed. “I get that look and worse from the rest of the world daily, and I'm not taking it from you just because you’ve hopped up on the propaganda. I already told you that I and the others don’t hurt people, so if you want to learn more, then I suggest stopping it here and now.”

“Or,” she began as she pointed towards the fence from where he came in with a thumb. “You can run away with your tail between your legs, and not learn what I have to say. Of how the dragons are doing something more than just helping themselves.”

“A-are you sure?” he stuttered out.

“Positive,” she reassured him with a nod of her head. “We wouldn't hurt a fly if we could.”

“A-Alright,” he said, trying to calm himself down. It was a bit hard as he was standing next to a person that he thought could drain his soul, and he couldn't get the jitters out of his hands, but he tried and as he did so she calmed down.

“Good,” she said, her tone becoming lighter than before with a touch of sweetness,” follow me and we’ll talk and walk.”

With a sigh, Zephyr did so walking alongside her as she led him deeper into the country house’s garden. The only thought on his being the wish that doing so wouldn't be a decision that he regretted later.

“I guess some context is needed,” the robed woman said as she led him through. “Just to help dispel the fear that I won’t rob your soul from you.”

“That would be uh…nice to say the least,” Zephyr hesitantly said as he followed her, keeping a nervous grip on his suitcase.

“Well to begin,” she said as she led Zephyr through an exotic exhibit of multicolored flowers. “Necromancy itself is a type of magic that is associated with decay, life, the soul, and in turn the dead. Its most renowned use is the users puppeteering corpses through their will so they can do their bidding. Oftentimes those intentions are that of wanting to inflict grievous harm on someone or something. Because of this, it is outlawed in nearly every part of the world with the penalty of death or life imprisonment depending on the circumstances. With those nations that do so having the belief that anyone who uses it is corrupting themselves as it is perceived as an evil art whose use corrupts someone's soul and moral faculties.”

“Right,” Zephyr said, nodding to the information that he already knew. “So what’s there to say about it? It’s an evil art, the world sees it as evil because it is evil.”

“But it isn’t,” she said, holding up a finger with her back turned towards him. “Did you not listen to what I just said? Necromancy is perceived to be evil, not that it is. It is simply a magic that the world perceives to be evil.”

“Are you sure about that?” he asked her. “Pretty sure all of those movies, books, radio shows, and more have something different to say.”

“Then answer me this,” she said, turning towards him with a fire in her eyes. “ Is a sword evil, is a gun evil, or is a pen evil? All of those things that I have just mentioned to you are capable of and have done incredible acts of evil. With a sword, you can skin a child alive in front of their mother, with a gun you can mow down a squad of civilians within seconds, and with a pen, you can doom a nation to a meaningless war for a childhood grudge. They are tools and what matters is the intent of the user, not what the tool is or capable of.”

“I guess,” Zephyr said begrudgingly, “but that doesn't change the fact that everyone who uses it is usually insane. What with them declaring everyone alive, trying to live forever, and whatnot. Those movies on you people might be exaggerating a few things, but that doesn't mean they aren’t lying.”

“That…I sadly cannot deny,” the robed woman said deflating a bit. “It is true for some, but it is one that I am tired of, to say the least. What with it being used by maddened warlocks, secretive and jealous scholars, and men and women who are terrified of death. All of which doom The Art to a legacy of infamy. The Art itself should be the pursuit of one’s goals, not for immortality, power, or any one of those other barbaric means.”

“Really?” Zephyr said, looking back at her with a look of surprise. “Not turning yourself into a lich to live forever or to wage war upon the living to rule forever?”

“Those men and women would have done it through other means if they didn’t have necromancy such as alchemy, occult magic, or politics,” she blew off with a dismissive wave. “When someone goes down such a path with the intent that they have the means that which they harness to achieve their goals are meaningless I assure you. For them, necromancy was just the most ready and available tool that they had available.”

“Ready and available tool?” Zephyr mumbled out confused. “What do you mean by that?

“Practicing the art is easy, remarkably easy, and anyone can do it as long as they have the proper reagents and the will to do it.” She looked at Zephyr for a moment. “Even you.”

“Even me?” Zephyr said somewhat surprised as he put a hand to his chest. “I can’t use magic, you do know that right?” He unfurled one of his arms to show the lack of unicorn bone that was on there. “No unicorn bones, see?”

“There's no need for that,” she waved it off as Zephyr rolled his arms back up. “Magic’s everywhere in our world and anyone can find ways to use it if they know how to, and for necromancy as long as someone has the will and the intent they can practice it and in doing so raise the dead.”

“I mean how else are those tortured scholars, warlords, and roguish criminals in those movies going to summon an undead army to their will,” she remarked to him somewhat playfully. “Studying ancient books, being a unicorn, and practicing it? Pfft, no, on my first night that I learned the art I already had my own familiar, raised my first corpse, and put it to work cleaning my home.”

There was a visible pause before she added with a sigh, “shame it broke all of the dishes I had during that time, to be honest. I quite liked them.” ,

“Were they expensive?’ Zephyr asked her somewhat curiously.

“Monetarily, no, ” she said, shaking her head, “but they were gifts from my uncle and my aunt to me when I moved out of my home to get to my first job.”

“In what grave robbing?’ Zephyr joked around. “You learned to dig up corpses in the middle of the night?

“What? No,” she said somewhat offended with a baffled look of incredulity. “It was a job to be a teacher’s assistant for kids in elementary school.”

“Oh,” Zephyr said deflating a bit and then scratching his head awkwardly, “I'-I'm sorry about that.”

“It’s okay, I forgive you,” she said with a shrug. “You just didn’t know. “

There was a moment of an empathic pause with the necromancer mourning her lost dishes, and Zephyr feeling too awkward to intervene. Eventually, however, he broke it up with a question about what, The Art, was. Something of which he had a few times by now.

“Just a name that many of us use instead of necromancy,” she answered him. “Sounds cleaner, better, and you can send letters across nations describing your work as though it were an artistic project without anyone noticing. Artists are weird people anyway and nobody pays that much attention to someone fondling the bones of the dead if they are one. Most of the time they think it’s just for anatomy work or private collections, and if not well,” she drawled on for a moment before answering, “there is always playing the guise of a fetish artist”

“Mhmh,” Zephyr merely hummed in neutral agreement as he took a look around the place. The section of the garden that they were in was strangely immaculate. The plants of the place were freshly trimmed and water was given to them as if it was only a few hours ago. Doing something like this would take an entire crew of workers, and If what she said was true...then.

“Is this your doing?” he asked her, pointing around him at the well-kept nature of the garden. “I haven’t seen or heard anyone around so I'm going to guess that you had a hand in keeping this place clean?”

“I do,” she confirmed with a nod. “Me and my friends have a few…servants,” she said with air quotes, “running around here maintaining the place like dusting the cabinets, watering the plants, and chasing away the birds. It helps to keep the place clean and gives them something to do.”

“You aren’t afraid of them being seen?” Zephyr asked her, raising an eyebrow as his eyes shifted left and right to keep watch for any of the undead in his sights. “I’m pretty sure people will freak out if they ever see one.”

“Maybe, but that’s up close,” the robed woman said as she gestured for Zephyr to follow her. “Give them a set of clothes, fix the way they walk, make sure nobody gets close to them, and you’ll never have to worry about being found out,” she finished gesturing towards a set of shapes in the distance of the garden that were working away. “Take a look for yourself.

And as he did Zephyr saw several humanoid shapes that were working away in the garden: cutting flowers, watering them, rearranging them, and for a few that carried the necessary materials, planting new ones. They worked slowly and sluggishly as they maintained the garden, carefully clipping hedges or watering the plants, but true to the robed woman's word they looked entirely ordinary in the dark. In any other set of circumstances, zephyr would have presumed them to be ordinary night shift workers.

Filled with morbid curiosity he made his way closer towards them. During which neither of them reacted to his presence or his coming closer. The answer as to why they didn’t was obvious.

They were undead, workers that were skeletons wore padded clothes that were nailed to their bones, and the zombies simply wore ordinary clothes that were tightened to their stilled bodies with rope and string. Horrified, Zephyr waved a hand in front of a zombie as they worked, but he didn’t get a response. And he never would from the white and dulled eyes of the creature in front of him as it toiled away, its sluggish body set to the task through necromantic magic to maintain the garden.

“I hate to repeat myself, but you do know what will happen when people see this right?” Zephyr asked her as he turned around to look at her. “They’re going to freak out, riots will start, and people will want to see you dead.”

“I know,” she said sadly, walking over to him, “they always do. It doesn't matter that the men and women that you see before you were murderers and rapists in their past lives, people will always react in the same way that they have always had. With fire, faith, and hunting dogs. Sure the means towards how they execute us now have changed with us either being shot at by firing squads, beheaded at a post, or electrocuted, but the intent and the meaning always stays the same.”

“Honestly, I understand why so many of us turn towards acts of violence even if we are not evil,” she said as she grasped the chin of one of her servants and tilted it so that its white eyes faced the slits of her mask. “How can you be willing to help others or even exchange a word of kindness when they treat you as nothing but a monster that must be cleaned with fire.”

“Ten thousand years I've heard was the date necromancy was first invented,” she whispered just loud enough for him to hear as she let go of the servant's chin and let it work. “Ten thousand years since its birth and the situation has never changed since then. We are still seen as monsters, we are still seen as madmen, and we must all die and burn in hell for the sins of our acts and existence.”

A silence ensued as the two watched the undead work, the woman’s gaze still transfixed on them, and Zephyr merely followed it as he was struck speechless; had this been happening for all this time?

Wracking his head for answers Zephyr found the same ending that the woman spoke was in the stories he heard about. If a necromancer was not redeemed by another and in the act of doing so abandoned their art in the process then they would burn for their crimes. Perhaps not in the literal sense, but very much in the metaphorical as they were always doomed to die or to suffer the consequences for meddling with what was said to be the blackest of arts. Their death was simply inevitable.

Struck with empathy and sorrow for what he understood to be a fragment of the woman’s own he walked to speak to her.

“I’m sorry,” he said, starting to make a gesture to pat her on the back but stopping out of the fear that he still had for her, “I'm sorry that this happened to you. Is there no place for you?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “There are a few places, but they are filled with evil men and women. They wish to invite us into their halls so we may share our secrets for whatever goal they have in mind: immortality, power, or fulfilling some strange dark lust they have. It’s all the same in the end, we are seen as kindred or colleagues in their eyes, but only in the veins of still being mad, and thus entirely without care for the consequences our actions have upon the living.”

She sighed again In lamentation tearing her gaze away from the undead creatures, “and in the many years of my life, I have known too many friends who out of desperation cast away their morals to have safety in their lives. Willingly turn themselves into monsters so they can have a home, but it always ends the same for them. They were either betrayed, went mad, or died in an alley somewhere lost and forgotten.”

Zephyr said nothing as he continued to listen. A part of him felt that he should apologize, but what was the use? It wouldn't do anything now. It wouldn't wash away the revulsion that he still had for the undead creatures in front of him, it wouldn't heal the pain that the woman had for what she said, and it wouldn't fix anything. So instead fighting through the fear that he felt, he just reached a handout and expressed what sympathy he could through a pat on the back.

“Thank you,” she said gently, moving it away as she took a moment to compose herself. “It means more than you think it does, honestly.”

“But, moving on for a moment,” she said, changing the topic. “That’s why what the dragons have done for me and my colleagues is so important to us. They’ve done the one thing that I've never seen anyone else do, not even The Twin Monarchs themselves, and that is to extend a hand of friendship along with the promise of sanctuary asking for little in return.”

“The terms for it are so,” she continued with a wave of her hand. “We must promise not to harm a living soul save in self-defense, and if we do we must endeavor not to kill. We must regulate ourselves, we must cooperate with the law and orders as we are not exempt from it barring conscription, and we must be aware that we are given asylum under the permission of The Dragonlord. Something that can be taken away if we violate it. However, we are given subsistence funding, may make requests for materials as we wish that can be granted review, are protected by the law as any ordinary citizen should be, and will not be subjected to discrimination or prejudice by those under the Dragonlord's rule.”

“Sounds like indentured servitude to be honest,” Zephyr quipped with a raised eyebrow. “You're still being treated in the same way you just told me earlier.”

He looked around him for a moment before pointing towards the sealed gate. "Are you lot forced to stay here and you can't leave unless a guard is escorting you around in the dark? That doesn't exactly sound like friendship to me.”

There was a tense moment when he said that. With the woman’s figure stiffening in anger, her hands clenched, and her eyes narrowed at him. Zephyr in return merely waited impatiently for an answer to his question. Was this just a false deal? Or was it something truly more?

The silence continued, Zephyr waited impatiently with his arms folded, and the tension in the air almost reached a peak before it was broken by the woman speaking.

“In that regard,” she said to him with some sorrow, “yes, you are correct. We are still held with suspicion, we are still seen as criminals in the eyes of some, but,” she said, holding up a finger as the sorrow that she had faded away. “We’re not expected to share our knowledge with anyone, we’re not told to make someone immortal at the cost of innocent lives, and we aren’t forced to raise the dead for someone’s foolish ambition for power. And in that regard,” she said gesturing with an open palm towards him,” things are different, very different.”

“Alright,” Zephyr stiffly accepted, his arms unfolding, “I’ll accept that. Maybe things will be better in time, and you’ll be treated to where you want to be now, maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday.”

“Someday,” she echoed with a nod. “This is a start at the least, and right now it’s better than nothing.”

“I suppose,” Zephyr said as he walked around for a few moments as he thought to himself. Something about this didn’t feel right. Not with the sense of The Isles side of the equation, but instead the necromancers. Wasn’t necromancy still a harmful thing with zombies hungering for human flesh and licks sucking people's souls to keep themselves alive? What were they doing to make this work? Wanting to know, he asked his question.

“There are…ways,” she began to answer with some hesitation as she put a finger to her mask as if she was in deep thought, “to use the art in a way that dispels those notions that you’ve mentioned. It is tiring to the caster, time-consuming, and less powerful, but it can be done without causing pain to others. For example, did you not notice the undead that you saw just now?” she asked Zephyr pointing towards the gardeners still at work.

“Yeah?” Zephyr said, nodding. “What of it?”

“Well it didn’t try to eat you the moment it saw you so it’s got that going for it,” she snickered to herself for a moment. “But more importantly it was able to perform gardening work. In ordinary circumstances, they wouldn't even possess half the intelligence that they have now. Instead, they would simply be dumbly standing there waiting for orders from their master. Orders that which they would fail at unless it was the simplest of tasks.”

“So they’re smart?” Zephyr said as he watched one of them notice that the bucket of water that they were ladling to the plants was empty and shambled over to a distant well.

“No, far from it,” the robed woman answered with a shake of her head “They’re still stupid, but they are…wiser than they were before?” she said with an unsure nod to herself before pointing behind her as the undead creature walked towards the well. “It’s a bit hard to say exactly, but see for yourself and you’ll know what I mean.”

And with an accepting nod Zephyr accepted, and the two watched the undead creature make its way over towards the well. When it did, it looked at it slowly, its face with the same pale expression of stupidity that Zephyr had seen before in a creature such as this. Ignorance and stupidity. A state of which it could have carried on for eternity if it was not interrupted by someone else.

But instead of doing that, the undead creature looked at the well with a spark of familiarity within its eyes. Something within it, something deep within it that it may not have understood why knew what it was for, and more importantly what it was meant to do here

Dropping the bucket that it had without ceremony, it fumbled around for the well’s crank, and as it pushed the weight of its arm against it the well-vented water onto the cobblestone floor. A moment later and with the grasp of the bucket’s handle again, it clumsily made its way back to continue its task.

“I uhm,” Zephyr faltered to speak as he processed what he saw. Looking at the robed woman she could see only unmasked glee on her face through her mask.

“See! See!” she said, her voice light and filled with cheer, “not only can they be taught, but they can learn! Still stupid I will admit, but wise enough to know what they are supposed to do if taught or by sheer memory of their past life. Why, I’m sure that in the right circumstances, there can be a society that works in harmony with the undead” she said wistfully and her eyes twinkled with wonder. “One in which the living are not used as fuel to be converted into undead forms as I've seen before, but are instead respected for what they are. Free to do whatever they wish during their lives and to enjoy the benefits of prosperity that a ceaseless if somewhat dumb workforce can bring.”

“I’m pretty sure that people won’t like that you know,” Zephyr argued as he rallied himself. “Just because you say it’s okay doesn't mean it will be.”

“I know,” she said with a nod as she deflated and sighed. “I know, but one can hope, yes? To live in a world where art is not shamed, its wielders are not burned at the stake or executed by firing squad, but instead, one in which we can practice it in peace. “

“I guess,” Zephyr said, being somewhat neutral on the subject. “But is that the only way you can help? By summoning the dead and letting them loose on the living in one way or the other?”

“No, not entirely,” she answered with a shake of her head. “There are…other ways, but we are trying to figure them out. The ritual of animation is but one practice into the art.”

“And what would the other practices be?” Zephyr questioned her. “Skeletons, mummies, and ghosts?”

“Hmph, a little bit,” she said with an unnoticed smile underneath her mask. “But there are ways in truth: talismans that can momentarily halt one's death for a short time, wands that can heal by leaching one’s surroundings, masks that can allow one to speak with those who are gone, spells that can and the binding along with others,” she finished looking at Zephyr.

“The binding?” he said confused about what that could mean. “Like you're shackling someone’s soul to a place?”

“In relation yes, but in practice no,” she corrected Zephyr. “The binding is an art that allows those who have departed from this world to return to it momentarily in a ghostly form or by repressing their dead bodies by their own free will and choice for a similar amount of time. During which they can directly aid the living in whatever way they can. .”

Zephyr merely raised a dubious eyebrow in response.

“Yes, yes, I know,” she said with a sigh knowing Zephyr’s suspicion as it seemed like just another form of necromancy to him, “but who better in a time of need or want to help us than the venerated dead? Because as I've said before, with their help we can achieve so much.”

“Right…well good I guess,” Zephyr hesitantly acknowledged patting the woman on the back. In her eyes, whether she was simply passionate about her work or mad it was hard to say, from what he heard Twilight Sparkle could be the same, so he brushed it off with simple passion as he asked her another set of questions. “Who accepted you guys by the way?”

“The Dragon Lord herself,” she answered somewhat confused, “I thought it was obvious by now?”

“Oh I just wanted to confirm that’s all,” Zephyr said scratching the back of his head. “Was wondering if it was some politician, some clan member, or the like.”

“No, no it wasn’t,” she reconfirmed with a shake of her head before. “They were the ones that called for our deaths when we arrived. She was the only one who halted them from doing so.”

“Really?” Zephyr said interested. “You didn’t exchange letters and arrange it beforehand or anything?”

“If we tried that I'm sure that we would have been denied from the moment they saw it,” she answered. “To get to where me and my colleagues are now we had to gamble for a bit. Smuggling ourselves into the country, requesting an audience via a neutral third party while obscuring our identity, and requesting asylum then and there before her throne during the meeting,” she stated plainly as if she had described a trip to the grocery store.

“But I thought that she extended a hand of friendship to you,” Zephyr tried to recall stuttering all the while. “What happened to that?”

“Oh she did extend a hand of friendship to us,” the robed woman said with a nod. “But only after we were all arrested on the spot, our undead servants were killed again, and our leader was isolated from the rest of us and alone to talk with her.” She rubbed her wrists for a moment. “I understand why, but they could have been a bit loose with the cuffs. My wrists still hurt with how tight they were at the time.”

A pregnant silence ensued between the two. Zephyr too filled with shock to speak, and the robed woman waiting for his response.

“I can tell you what happened,” she eventually offered to Zephyr. “I wasn’t there as I was in a dungeon with the rest of my colleagues, but our leader relayed to us what happened after.”

Gathering his wits together Zephyr numbly nodded as she began telling the story.

Alkiat, a lich of three hundred years nervously waited for The Dragon Lord’s reply to his request. It was a gamble, a gamble that if it went right would be the signal of a new age for them, an age in which they didn’t have to run or to hide anymore. In which they didn’t have to parlay with tyrants and madmen and kill the innocent for the loan of a free home that upon its expiration would be ended with a knife in the back. In which they could be free to live their lives in whichever way they wished, study what they wanted, and never fear being persecuted or burned at the stake for what they believed in.

But, it could also cost him his life, and not just his, but his colleagues, no, his friends that now waited in dreary cells and weighed down with lead weights. Friends whom he had known for years or centuries, and who had families to care for. They had trusted him, followed him here, and now they waited for the herald of a new age or to be met with the truth that they had always known. That the world was still the same as it always was to their kind.

So with a nervous and unstilled mind, he stood in front of the Dragon Lord’s throne for a reply. He was wrapped in lead chains intertwined with those of rock salt, watched from every angle that he could imagine by guards armed with rifles, and all of whom he knew were waiting for the chance to put someone like him down.

As for the dragon lord herself? That he did not know for certain. He couldn't see her face, nor the entirety of her figure, the sun from a set of windows behind her obscured his vision of her, but he could see her move, and that she was indeed there. Still internally contemplating what he had said, and until she spoke all he could now was simply wait. Wait and hope that she didn’t order his death on the spot.

“And is that all?” she eventually asked him from her throne. “That is all you wish?”

“Yes,” he confirmed with a nod with an internal sigh of relief. “We wish for asylum, for the right to continue our practice, to be respected as any other man or woman should be, and to not be forced to participate in evil deeds. In return we promise not to harm a living soul, to keep to ourselves, to regulate ourselves to ensure the art does not spread, and to abide by whatever restrictions that you have set, but,” he stressed, “they must be discussed and agreed upon with us.”

She only laughed in response. “You do know who you are right?” she asked him while pointing an accusatory finger. “You're not just some random people from nowhere hoping for a safe place to stay, you're necromancers, and I know exactly who you people are.”

Alkiat twitched at that and with a sigh he waited as she recited his so-called crimes to the world that he had heard again and again.

“I know that your liars, your thieves, your murderers, your warlocks, and you’ve been responsible for the mass slaughter of millions if not billions of people,” she listed off with one of her hands. “Honestly even if you weren’t any of those you’ve smuggled yourself into the country, arranged a meeting while lying about being foreign diplomats, and showed up here with your,” she waved a hand in the air in a half-effort to recall what she had seen before finishing with a sarcastic, “servants.”

“They’re not my servants,” Alkiat hissed his voice almost like a snake. “They’re my friends. They’re not brainwashed, they’re not enslaved, they’re not my students, and they’re not forced to come here against their own will. Instead, they’re just my friends who followed me here.”

“Alright, so they’re your friends,” she said, begrudgingly accepting it and stressing the last word to make sure he could hear it. “What did you and your friends want to even accomplish by coming here?” she accused him. “Hoping to make yourselves martyrs for your cause?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “We are not affiliated with any order, we are alone. ”

“So what was it?” she pressed him. “I know that you knew what was going to happen the moment you set foot here. That you would be arrested, that you would be imprisoned, tried, and executed as is the word of Celestia and nearly every other nation in the world,” she finished before giving him a curious look. “So why bother even coming here?”

“I,” Alkiat said, his voice like a whisper as his eyes were downcast, “I hoped things would be different. That what I knew would likely happen would not happen. That the ideals of harmony would prove true for once. That I wouldn't be judged based on my creed, my looks, nor my history, but instead on my good intentions and action,” he said, holding a hand to himself. “I hoped that I would be heard and listened to like anyone else, and not cast aside like trash for what I presume to be in your eyes.”

‘But,” he said, admitting something to himself. “I suppose that what I truly wanted to know was if harmony was real or if it was a lie.”

The Dragonlord merely raised a questioning look as he continued.

“Because if it is a lie,” he began his hands beginning to shake with envy and want, “then I wanted to see the evidence for myself. To know once and for all and without a single doubt in the world that it is nothing but a lie, and that she is nothing but a herald for its vile promises and doctrine.”

“She?” The Dragonlord said somewhat interested in what he had to say now. “Who is she?”

“You know who, The Monarch of The Sun, The Uniter of Equestria, she who is said to bring forth the day, Celestia,” he spat out with venom. “She who was the first in my eyes to influence the doctrine that so many of your kind practice today, and she who slew my master so many centuries ago.”

“She did?” The Dragonlord asked dubiously her voice touched with emotion. “Why?”

“Because in her eyes he was wrong,” he hissed out his hands beginning to shake at the memory of the day it happened. “Because in her eyes he was evil, that he had to burn, and that he had to die for his so-called crimes against the good and fair world. Why?” he voiced out loud. “Because he existed, because he practiced the art, and because he dared to help her in a time of deep need. It was all the same to her in the end and he would be rewarded for his crimes as anyone else in our rank would to her eyes.”

“And his reward for doing so if you may be so curious?” he said, his hollow voice filled with emotion as he looked at her again. ”Do you want to know what his eternal reward for being a man who acted in good intention was?”

She said nothing, but he continued.

“He was dragged to the witch's pyre and he was burned to the cheers of a crowd of thousands,” he choked out. “That was his reward, his eternal reward for helping her, and it was one that she continued to mete out without care or conscience throughout her endless rule. All the while continuing to rule in the name of peace, justice, and fairness for all under the guise of harmony.”

“I…I need to know,” he said with a whisper that she could only hear. “I need to know whether or not the idea of harmony is truly a lie or not. I have heard so much about it and what it can do, that even with everything I have known so far I still believe in it, but I have been shunned in every corner of the world that I search that only gives me the same answer she has. Thus, I need to know whether it is a lie or not for once and for all. Because if it is a lie, then I can at least be content with that. To know that it is a system that does not proclaim equality for all, but instead only for those that it deems worthy and stamping out anything it sees as evil and unholy.”

She was still quiet, so he continued.

“A man can only run so long before he grows tired,” he said despondently as he idly moved his chains around. “And I have run for so long that I can feel its weight upon my soul and bones. I know I will not get my answer from her because it will always be the same from her, nor will I get it from her student that she so adores, but you,” he said pointing a finger at her. You are different, you are new, and you are not beholden to her or what she says today.”

“So can you give me your answer?” he asked her with hands outstretched in want. “What is harmony? Is it a lie? Does it seek to protect only those it deems worthy as I have said before? Or does it believe what I hope it does? That everyone is good in their heart, that their actions and intentions can speak for more than who they are or were, and that we can all live in peace and harmony if we so choose without judgment for who we are?”

“Or am I just a fool and an old man who entertains themselves with fairy tales and myths, “he muttered dismally as he looked around at the guards still pointing their weapons at him.

She still said nothing. Alkiat could hear the soldiers that were with her growing nervous as they adjusted their grips on their weapons. A few moments longer and if she did not say her peace then the soldiers around her would instead. They were disciplined, yes, but with this much silence from their leader, they had grown anxious. Anxious men and women in front of a threat of this kind only knew one way to silence it, with force.

And from a nearby window, a beam of light struck Alkiat, blinding him, and shining him with its heat that he could feel scorch him with its wrathful and uncaring hate. Was this how his master died as well? Desperately asking for an answer that would never come while being shunned by the very sun itself?

There was still no answer from The Dragonlord, and so Alkiat resigned himself to his supposed fate. I truly am a fool, he bitterly thought to himself as he looked at the soldiers around him who did not have a shred of kindness in their eyes. An old fool who should have learned his lesson long ago when he had the chance.

But then suddenly, the beam of light faded away as a cloud passed by in front of the mirror, and as it did it revealed The Dragon Lord. The young scaled woman was dressed in a three-piece navy blue suit and a long coat. She looked not at him, but at the scepter that she held in her hand with solemnity and sorrow. What thoughts were running through her mind? What was she thinking? Was she thinking of The Monarch of The Sun’s decisions, the laws of the world placed upon them, the burden of her role as leader, or the consequences of her decisions to come?

He didn’t know, but he could tell that whatever they were, they didn’t end well as she let loose a sigh, one that was filled with knowing regret before she raised it high to command attention. And the moment that she did, all eyes were locked on her.

“Alright,” she said, trying to sound regal, but instead sounding awkward and tired. “If what you say is true then in the name of harmony I grant you asylum to practice necromancy, but we’re going to have to talk about this more in detail.”

She then looked at the room at the soldiers within the room. “None of you are to talk about what happened here today,” she commanded with a wave of her scepter. “Nothing happened. As far as you're all aware, some idiot wanted to pull a prank. That or some business owner from who knows where wanted to talk about coffins or dead bodies. It doesn't matter to be honest about the excuse. What does is that nothing like this ever happened.”

There was a moment as the soldiers all looked at one another with hesitation, a second or two in which they all considered the alternative. Could they prevent an incident if they acted now? Would it be worth it? Acting right now would be treason, but it could save the lives of their families or the people of their nation in the future. None of them knew what would happen from here on out as a nation knowingly protected necromancers under the name of harmony.

The hesitation continued, their eyes shifted amongst one another, and sweat poured from nervousness onto their rifles, but before it could resolve in any way there was a stomp of the scepter’s butt on the ground.

“Am I clear!?” the Dragon Lord commanded as she stood up looking at her soldiers with eyes full of steel. “I know who you all are, I know where you live, and I know who your families are. If any one of you spill a single word of what happened here to anyone else I will make sure it will be the last thing you do,” she growled out looking at the soldiers around her. “Got it?”

There was a nod and the shifting of weapons to rest before The Dragon Lord let loose a relieved sigh.

“Good,” she said to herself as she observed the situation before shouldering the scepter. “Glad we got that out of the way. Now this is going to take a while, so we’re going to have to talk about this over tea.”

“So what is your preference before we start?" she asked him. Smolder’s always pestering me on how I should treat guests so this is probably a good place to start if any.”

“I can’t taste anymore,” Alkiat said, lamenting the price of his current form for a moment, “but when I was younger I preferred cinnamon.”

“Good!” she said before gesturing to one of the soldiers to grab their attention. “Head into the pantry and get us some if you can. Oh and some coffee as well, I can already feel a headache coming on.”

“And that’s it?’ Zephyr asked her as the two now sat at a bench looking at the undead work. “Everything started because of that sob story?”

“Not entirely,” the robed woman said. “I think it was more of the implication that the question had to her and what answer she gave.”

“What do you mean?” Zephyr said a bit confused.

“I mean that what answer she gave then and there would be in a way how she would follow harmony and rule,” the robed woman explained. “Think about it. Even The Monarch of The Sun has faults and Harmony as well. It isn’t a perfect system and it doesn't have any instruction guides as well,” she said scratching the back of her head. “So I suppose the question of it had her act on what she believed was best to her rule. Did it mean simply following Equestia’s example and doing what they do? Or did it mean at times doing something else altogether? To do something that nobody had ever thought of before until now?”

She paused for a moment before giving a shrug and standing up. “That’s just my take on it, I’m sure that she had other things to consider as well. What we could give to her freely, the bragging rights of being the first nation to sanction necromancy and to hold moral standards, or her simple curiosity of our story and intentions. Whatever it was, her decision was her own and we are here because of it and for the better.”

“I guess,” Zephyr said, standing up and taking a moment to stretch before grabbing his suitcase, “I should probably be going now. See what else I can do tomorrow before I start heading out.”

“I suppose,” the robed woman accepted. “Do you have any idea where to go?”

“Not really,” he answered with a shrug. “Probably just wander around for a bit. See who I can talk to, learn a bit more, and then start finding a way out. ”

“Well, you could talk to the military personnel here on The Isles,” she suggested. “Ever since the negotiations we’ve become,” she hummed for a moment for the right word to say, “familiar with them to say the least. They’re honest folk so maybe you can talk to them and see what their side is like before you leave.”

“I guess,” Zephyr said awkwardly as the idea of talking to the military much less going up to a soldier was one that he didn’t like. “Any idea where they are?”

“I do,” she said with a nod as she pointed towards the southeast. “There's a military base to the southeast of here where they are doing their training. The only one they have here, to be honest. Look around there long enough and I'm sure you’ll find it.”

“Mhmh,” Zephyr merely hummed in reply as he gathered his things. However, as he began walking away a question hit him.

“You said Alkiat was a lich right?” Zephyr asked as he turned around to face her. “And that he lived for hundreds if not thousands of years?”

“I did,” the robed woman said. “What about it?”

“Don’t liches live by sucking people's souls or whatever?” Zephyr said distinctly remembering the few movies that he watched. “Isn’t he hurting people just by being alive?”

The robed woman merely scoffed in reply, “As I said earlier,” she began, “there are alternatives to practice our craft and to extend our lives, even in Lichdom. One can easily subsist off of sheer willpower and raw magic if needed. The latter of which I'm sure you're familiar with by now.”

Zephyr merely tilted his head in confusion, “what do you mean that I'm familiar with the latter? I told you I don’t use magic. I barely even knew what necromancy was about until you told me. How would I know anything about extending my life?”

“I’m…uhm,” she said, faltering a bit as she looked at him for a moment as if to make sure that what she saw in front of her was real. Even taking the time to lift her mask for a moment to rub her eyes.

“N-nevermind,” she said after some time. “Why don’t you hurry along to that military base, and see what you can do there alright?”

“Alright,” Zephyr agreed hesitantly as he began to walk away. “Stay safe alright?”

She merely gave a shaky nod before returning to her business leaving Zephyr alone.

I wonder what that was about, Zephyr thought to himself as he exited the site. Maybe it has something to do with Discord's blessing? But how would she even know that anyway? It’s not like I’m advertising that am I?

He patted himself down for a moment but couldn't find anything about him that screamed he was magical.

No not really, he concluded with a shrug before grabbing his compass. Well onto more important things I guess. Now, which direction is southeast again?

Author's Note

The idea of good people with bad powers or those powers being perceived as bad is something that I really like, and especially if it's necromancers. The idea of someone trying to be 'good' with such powers or just wanting to be left alone so they can study in peace in a world that hates them is a cool concept in my head.
That's all I have to be honest. Diablo, Grimdawn's, tomb kings, and runescapes necromancer concepts are a favorite of mine. I love my skeleboi's and their summoners.

Chapter Nine: Military Processions and Graveyards

This…is going to be unpleasant isn’t it, Zephyr thought to himself as he idly followed the compass. Ran all the way from home to ensure I didn’t get forced into the military and here I am making my way over towards it willingly! Hehm, great, just great.

The walk towards the military base was simple, at least in theory. Follow the compass and eventually, you will find yourself there. An earlier look through the travel guide that he had helped him at the very least get an idea of what it was. It was large, open, and had a heavy and high wall around it that was accented by an earthen rampart and ditch named curious named Jeb. It would be easy to get there, at least in theory.

But still, with the directions something about it ached Zephyr’s and put his hair on end. The reason for this was simple, he, the military, and in turn, those affiliated with it had a relationship. A relationship that could best be described as…poorly. One of which led him to run away from his homeland and into The Isles.

Honestly, I could just not go, Zephyr thought to himself as he planted his feet and took a moment to think. Just head somewhere or anywhere that wasn’t there, but then what?

He looked around for a moment in the streets and didn’t see anything he could particularly do. It was still dark, nobody was around, and daybreak wouldn't come for an hour or two. Even if he wanted to grab a train or a cart out of here, how could he? They were closed right now anyway. It was better to just do something with his time than do nothing at all and leave him alone with his thoughts. Because at least if he was going somewhere he could maybe make some progress on getting out here.

Yeah, because at least then I’ll know how long I have left before the Isles get itself stuffed into war, Zephyr bitterly thought to himself as he poked the compass that he held in his hands. Better to know than to not.

How long did he have anyway when that happened? Was it hours, days, or weeks? How long would The Isles remain untouched by war? It couldn't be long now, everyone he spoke to more or less gave the feeling that something was going to happen soon, very soon.

And when it did happen, how long would they last? The Isles was just a small country state with no more than a single major island and a few others to its name. They had no real allies to help, no factories to make anything for them, and Zephyr suspected that they didn’t really have an army to make a stand with. Instead, just a few hopefuls who were willing to fight the good fight along with the ignorance that everything would be okay in the end.

But that wouldn't matter at all Zephyr knew. Cloudsdale, his former home, thought the same with the way their city was made, with the militias they had coupled with the garrison given to them by Equestria, and the forts they had constructed and…..and…and.

The screaming of sirens, the buzz of airplanes high above, the rancid yet almost pleasant smell of burnt flesh, oil, and gunpowder, and the deafening sound of overheated gems exploding coupled with the screech of magic dispelling hit Zephyr in a way sent him rocketing back to the past. One that was only accented with the feeling of falling…falling.. falling. To Where? Only the ground of course.

Thankfully the feeling didn’t last long, but it was there, and it was just enough for him to remember the night that Cloudsdale literally fell to the changelings. The night in which he realized how alone he truly was when he stood at the end of it all by himself in the ruins. Still, it was enough to send him reeling and stumbling from the recollection of what had happened to him before.
“Just breathe, just breathe,” Zephyr muttered to himself as he let out a wheeze while the blood drained away from his face as he scrambled onto a nearby wall for purchase. “You’ll be fine, you’ll be fine, you're not there, you're here, home is far away, you're away from there, you’ll be fine, you’ll be fine.”

One breath, two, three breaths, four, in and out, in, and out. He was fine, he wasn’t home, he was here, he was far away from home, and sure he might not know how long he was safe, but he could find out. Sure the idea of it would make his skin crawl, it may bring back memories that he would rather leave behind him, and who knows what, but he could at least do that. And doing that was better than something because doing something was better than nothing.

Because doing nothing just meant you weren’t doing anything at all, Zephyr thought to himself as he tried to calm himself down. Because that meant that you were lying on the ceiling dead as a fish and waiting for the noise in your head to go away all the while you were rotting away. And I'm not doing that right now, am I? No sir, no sir, not at all.

Taking a moment to pat himself down Zephyr checked his belongings and person: he felt his hat, he felt his jacket, his suitcase, the rings that were on his fingers, the badges that he was given, and his broken wings that were on his back that affirmed him of where he was. He was still here, he wasn’t there, he wasn’t home, and he wouldn't be dragged away to who knows where to die a terrible death.

“Yeah, yeah,” Zephyr muttered to himself before letting out a sigh and started walking while taking out the compass in his hands. “I’m here, I'm not there, and let’s get this thing over with before I go insane.”

And so paying attention to the compass zephyr stepped forward to follow the directions that were given to him by the military. Like before he could feel his thoughts becoming loose, his vision blurring past the recognition, and within moments he was gone. This time being whisked away to the military camp to where he could know just how much time The Isles had left if they were under attack. The former of which was a welcome reprieve this time around.

Well, when they said it was isolated and new, I didn’t expect it to be…this new, Zephyr thought to himself as recollected himself and found that he was looking at the outpost with the sun shining high above his head. Was it constructed like yesterday?
Like the chancery itself the outpost seemed makeshift as many locations in The Isles albeit it was somewhat complete this time around. The few buildings around seemed to have been made of solid stone blocks and loosely held together with clay mortar. Concrete blocks, sections of plywood, metal plates, half-made wooden fencing, boulders, debris, and even a broken-down car or two made up the perimeter wall surrounding the camp. All of which was accompanied by the earthen ditch and rampart named Jeb whose existence was pointed out thanks to a sign written in various languages.

Combined all together it was a sight to behold and one that entirely befuddled Zephyr as he neared it while the strange feeling that he had from the metalworker's shop before. One where one step felt like it was ten, the buildings felt larger, the debris bigger or smaller by the moment, and everything just felt wrong. It was confusing, very confusing to say the least as Zephyr made his way through. Was that wall he looked at ten feet tall or was it twenty feet? No, maybe it was thirty? He couldn't tell in the end. Everything just felt like it was being stretched or squashed to its limit with him being in the middle of it.

Regardless, the place itself was relatively unguarded. With only a small set of guards stationed around the outside of the gate, and with a mere glance at the badges Zephyr had strapped to his jacket let him through. The reasoning behind their actions was that thanks to his tired demeanor, sprained wings, and haggard looks coupled with the official-looking badges gave them the impression of a government official. One whose time was precious to them and could not be wasted for a single second, and would certainly not be interrupted by a set of tired guards asking for the paperwork they knew was most certainly there.

So Zephyr made his way inside the camp, and when he did the feeling of confusion and befuddlement only continued. Why? Because the entire place was somewhat empty, with only a minor amount of personnel around for the camp. Only a few hundred or so made up the entire place that could host over a thousand.

All the while the soldiers and the personnel that were around dressed in what he felt wore uniforms that belonged to a history museum. Because the soldiers that were inside of the outpost that actually wore uniforms didn’t wear modern military clothing or uniforms such as natural woodland colors and thin jackets or shirts. Instead, they wore elaborate coats and jackets that were dyed purple, trimmed with gold and felt fit more for a ballroom or a reenactment battle than anything else. The guards back at the chancery wore the same things and he thought it was just the uniforms they wore for being formal bodyguards until now.

And stranger still to Zephyr was that he hadn’t heard a single gunshot so far. A part of him suspected it to be because of some distant firing range to ensure people’s ears weren’t hurt, but racking through his memory as he approached the site Zephyr didn’t see anything like it when he got close. Instead, the military base was all by itself. Just a simple base in the middle of a valley, with walls made out of scrap, a rampart named Jeb, and soldiers dressed in antiquated uniforms or in simple civilian clothing.

Overall, the strangeness of the situation calmed Zephyr in a way. He didn’t really know why, perhaps it was because of how dumbfounded he was by it all, or perhaps it was because he was there and didn’t really have a chance to run away anymore. Regardless, he was able to maneuver through the camp with ease. He only gave the occasional grunt of acknowledgment to a soldier as they passed by, all of whom simply assumed the same thing that the gate guards did and left him alone.

All of which led to Zephyr finding his way into the center within a matter of minutes, and from which he saw an assemblage of soldiers together. The population of which was mostly dragons, young ones as they were mostly the height of a normal man given a foot or two in height, and with them the many flavors of humanity: earth ponies, unicorns, kirens, gryphons, and more. With them, all obediently marching and drilling themselves to the tune of a drum and the shouts of a drill instructor.

And the drill instructor was just as eccentric as the dragons themselves. Because they were not dressed in standard uniform, but instead in heavy plate armor made from thick steel with a helmet that obscured his face entirely. One was followed by the same diamond dog that Zephyr found before dutifully following behind him, taking notes, handing him items if gestured, and always having their head down in a gesture of obedience. Thankfully to Zephyr’s relief as he looked at them they had an identical badge that he had given to him before. But one that he would have discovered was exactly the same as his own if something else hadn’t distracted him from looking at it longer, something that left him dearly worried.

Are those muzzle loaders? Zephyr thought to himself as he squinted at what some of the soldiers were holding at their side. Oh my god those are.

Zephyr had only seen a muzzleloader once in his life, and that was when a now long-forgotten and estranged acquaintance brought one out to show off during the show and tell in school. It was a thing of beauty, made out of perfumed luxury wood and an ergonomic grip to go along with it, but there was a problem with it, a big one that all muzzleloaders shared, it was old and slow to reload. It took them nearly two whole minutes to reload it, one when he stopped fumbling around with the powder, but still two whole minutes to reload and fire it off, once. Zephyr knew the average rifle nowadays was either semi-automatic, bolt action or automatic. Each one was capable of firing more rounds in a minute than a muzzleloader could hope for in ten. It utterly dumbfounded him to see a working piece used in a modern army today.

Why would they be using those things here? Zephyr thought to himself as he watched the display unfold in front of him as the soldiers drilled and marched. It’s the modern day, shouldn't they be using modern rifles? The guards in the chancery had shotguns, don’t they have enough to go around?

Curious and wanting to know, Zephyr carefully made his exit from the scene and began searching around the place for an armory of some sort. That way he can take a look at what the dragons really had for the weapons they had available to them. During this like before nobody bothered with him presuming the same thing that everyone else had, and within minutes he was able to make his way into one of the few armories that were kept within the base. The contents of which nearly left him speechless.

Oh my god it is really nothing but muskets, Zephyr thought to himself as he looked around. All around him, he could see a mishmash of weapons that he thought to be better in an old war museum than in an active training field: flintlocks, breech locks, pikes, makeshift oil bombs, old cannons, and more made-up contents within the armory. All of whom were accompanied by crates upon crates of ammunition, but all of whom were stamped with a strange insignia on the side that he knew wasn’t just a factory’s maker mark. An imprint with a paw upon it.

Diamond dogs? Zephyr thought to himself as he ran a hand over the side of a crate of ammunition. Hmm, I wonder if that assistant’s employer had something to do with it.

He thought about it for a moment. It seemed likely. Hire a mercenary to come over and as they do they just happen to bring a few crates along with them for…personal use. Something which they could simply sell to their own employers for a high price if they hadn’t already agreed upon it before. It was a simple plan and that he knew would certainly work in the right circumstances, there was just one problem that had in his mind.

Who even buys swords and black powder bombs these days anyway? Zephyr thought to himself as he handled a heavy and oversized sword for a moment before putting it back. I’m positive that using something like this will get you killed nowadays.

Looking around a bit more he noticed a few flintlock rifles that were sized for the usual height of a dragon, but whose number he found were less than a hundred. Barely enough to equip a squadron much less a company.

“I guess you do so when you're either ignorant enough to get swindled for them or your desperate enough for anything to arm yourself with that you couldn't care less for what you holding as long as it’s something,” he muttered to himself as he took a step back from the room before letting out a sigh.

“You know what, whatever,” Zephyr muttered as he grabbed his suitcase, took out his compass, noted the directions, and walked away from the armory. “It’s not my problem, it’s theirs. I already got what information I wanted here anyway so I should just get out of here while I still can.”

So grabbing his things Zephyr began to make his way out of the camp. With him speed walking through the place with his compass in hand. It didn’t help him in finding a direction as to which direction he was, he already had an idea based on but it at least helped him look important. Something which was vital if you were in a military base snooping around in places where you shouldn't be looking in.

And things were going well for a time. None of the guards paid attention to him as they were still preoccupied with doing their things such as: fetching supplies, talking with one another, and simply finding whatever ways they could to pass the time. He was nearly out with him rounding a corner and seeing the exit in sight until he heard the telltale sound of a revolver being cocked.

“I would advise you to stop walking if you want to live,” said the gruff voice of a man in what Zephyr heard in Equestrian behind him. “If you don’t, well that’s on you and the bullet I have with your name on it.”

“Alright,” Zephyr replied with a sigh as turned around. When he did he saw the drill instructor from before holding up an armed revolver at him with the hammer cocked and ready to be fired.

Looking at it, Zephyr could immediately feel a small part of him wanting to freak out, to scream, to hide, and to do whatever he could to get out of the situation he was now in, but a larger part of him didn’t. The part that felt tired and numb to everything from what he unwillingly remembered earlier simply said to not react at all, instead to simply react nonplussed to everything and to merely raise an eyebrow, so he did. With him leveling an accusing finger towards the drill instructor.

“Lessons done and you're using a bit of your free time to find me?” Zephyr joked to the drill instructor. “Or did you take a break instead?”

“The second,” the instructor answered Zephyr. “ Thought you were just some official at first, but a quick question from my s,” they paused to correct themselves,” my servant told me otherwise. They told me you were just some random person they had met weeks ago”

“Oh really?” Zephyr quipped with a dry smile. “Well good for you, any idea what you're going to do with that information.” He then pointed towards the pistol with a dull look in his eyes. “Are you going to shoot me with that gun you have?”

“Perhaps,” the drill instructor said as they took a moment to flex the fingers holding the pistol. “Or perhaps not, depends on what you're here for.”

“Well if you want to know, I'm just someone passing through, that’s all,” Zephyr answered with a shrug. “I had some questions that I wanted to get an answer to, I got the answers for them, and now I'm heading out.”

“Oh really?” the instructor replied with a dry laugh. “Are you leaving so you can tell someone about them?”

“Oh no, no, no,” Zephyr refused with a shake of his head. “I’m heading out so I can leave this place before it gets steamrolled by the first country that has its eyes on it. I’m sure you've got a word by now about it right?” he asked him with a curious look.

“I mean,’ he said, waving a hand around him. “There are barely any soldiers here, you're using muskets in a world of bolt action rifles, and while you're dragons I'm sure that won’t mean a lot come time when a tank rolls up to you wanting what's yours for theirs now will it?”

“No, no it will not,” the instructor sighed as he holstered the revolver that he had away before crossing his arms in a display of dismay. “I know what’s coming, and it won’t be pretty, I can tell you that.”

“No kidding,” Zephyr said with a raised eyebrow as he crossed both of his arms for a moment. “Mind telling me more about it?”

“If you have the time, but first you’ll have to tell me a bit about yourself before I tell you anything in return, ” the instructor said with a smile before making a motion behind him. “Follow me for now.”

Nodding towards the man Zephyr did so with his suitcase in hand. The only thoughts on his mind as he did so were just contentment on learning more of what was going on in the Isles. Another run-in with an official and with more information to be learned.

“So, you mean to tell me that you ran away from home after being beaten by guards, hopped on a ship, made your way into the chancery, spoke to some people who I had never even known existed until now, and you simply wanted to walk here to find out what was going on?” the instructor recounted what Zephyr had told him with a look of confusion.

“If you can believe it,” Zephyr said with a smile as he looked around the place. The two were in a tent one that seemed to be one of the more permanent structures within the area. Because instead of simply being cramped and narrow inside, it instead was wide and tall with ample space inside of it; sporting low-built sandbag walls, a radio built within it along with a small office consisting of a table littered with writing supplies, a comfortable cot, and all the while being clean and well maintained.

Right out of a demonstration manual, Zephyr noted to himself with a small smile as he turned his attention back to the instructor. Who was currently seated across from him in a small chair made from stone as Zephyr sat down in one made of wood. Wonder if they set this place up themselves or if they had someone else do it for them.

“I mean there's not much more to say other than that,” Zephyr said to the instructor as he pulled his suitcase alongside him. “Does that satisfy your curiosity about me for now?”

“It does,” the instructor answered with a nod. “I can tell that at the very least you're not a spy or someone that’s going to harm anyone. At least, anybody but yourself,” they finished adding the last part in with a bit of hesitation.

“That’s good,” Zephyr said with a nod just happy enough to not be shot for now. “By the way, is it alright if I start asking you some questions before I leave?.” He looked around for a moment. “It’s just so I can know the full idea of what’s going on.”

“Go ahead,” the instructor answered with a wave of a gauntleted hand. “As long as it isn’t invasive enough I'll see what I can do.”

“Right well, I guess first thing’s first,” Zephyr said, scratching the side of his head for a moment. “How did you even guess the language I spoke anyway? As far as I know, I could have been speaking Maregyptian, changeling, or who knows what instead of Equestrian.”

“You learn after a while to guess those kinds of things,” the instructor answered. “Plus you are the spitting image of an Equestrian from what news I know back home: low born, dirty, ragged, probably flea infested, and god knows what else.”

Zephyr raised a hand to refute that he wasn’t infested with fleas, but the instructor persisted through.

“The courage that you displayed however while being held at gunpoint is a bit strange,” the instructor mused to himself for a moment before looking at Zephyr. “Are you a veteran of battle?”

“Oh, no no no no,” Zephyr adamantly refused. “I’m about as civilian as you can get. I’ve never held a weapon or fired one in my life.”

He then held up a set of fingers as he made a scissoring motion with them, “I'm a hair cutter back home if you can believe it,” Zephyr said with a smile before it turned into a frown. “Hame it didn’t last long however with the whole war going on.”

“I see,” the instructor said with a nod, “but that doesn't explain the way that you acted towards being held at gunpoint though.”

“Well uhm,” Zephyr erred for a minute as he scratched the back of his head. “Let’s just say that it’s been a bit of a tiring day.”

Zephyr couldn't see the facial gestures of the instructor, but he knew he could feel a quizzical look being given to him.

“Just…uhh, yeah,” he said, giving a lackadaisical shrug towards his answer. “Sorry about that.”:

“It’s fine, keep your secrets then,” the instructor waved off. “It’s not like it’ll harm anyone anyway.”

“Thanks,” Zephyr said with a shy smile, “I just..uhm, yeah.”

For a moment an awkward silence began to fall between the two before it was sharply interrupted by Zephyr as he said, “uhm anyway! So it seems like you already know you're going to be invaded by someone. Do you mind telling me who?”

“Yes, yes, I suppose I could,” the instructor said as they rooted around the chair they sat on for a moment.

“Uhm, what are you,” Zephyr tried to remark before he was interrupted by the procurement of a bottle from the instructor. Which they uncapped it with a smooth motion before lifting their helmet revealing a waxed beard as they took a heavy slug from it.

“Just give me a moment,” they said as they took a moment to breathe before they took another slug from the bottle. “I don’t want to explain what I'm going to explain in the next few minutes while being sober.”

“Uhhh, why?’ Zephyr asked somewhat confused.

“Because it is entirely absurd that’s why,” the instructor said as they drained the bottle before looking for another. “I don’t want to say what I’m going to say next sober.”

“I guess,” Zephyr said, accepting the logic somewhat, “but don’t you have students to teach?”

“Ehhh they can wait,” the instructor said, waving off Zephyr as they took another drink. “They’ll be fine waiting for a few hours anyway, it’s not like it’ll make that much of a difference in the end.”

“Uhhh, alright,” Zephyr said as he looked around the tent and just now noticed the pile of bottles around. “I’ll be waiting here until you're ready.”

The instructor merely nodded in appreciation as they took another drink and with it drained a quarter of the bottle they held in the process.

“Mhmh, so,” the instructor began a bit tipsy after having drained three bottles. “There is a man out there in the world, one who is smarter, wiser, but most importantly luckier than many others in the world. He wishes to set himself as a king and he is willing to do whatever can to accomplish his dreams. He will not bargain, nor will he buy, but instead simply take what he believes is rightfully his through fire and sword. The ideologies of harmony or neutrality mean nothing to him, and so the only way to stop him is to meet his forces in battle and to emerge victorious with his head on a pike.”

The instructor frowned for a second, before taking another swig and frowning at the taste. “And he isn’t the only one as well, hungry eyes watch The Isles now. Often them having the same plans as the man has. Of which is to make The Isles theirs, to crown themselves the king of dragons, and to rule over them while enjoying the riches that this place has. That or to use it for what strategic value it has to them whatever it may be.”

“They are coming,” he continued before heaving a sigh,” and when they come The Isles will stand alone. “Why?” he said to Zephyr, tilting his head. “Because they have cut themselves off from the rest of the world in their arrogance and pride.”

“And I am meant to help them in what ways I can by teaching them the ways of war,” the instructor said, giving a dark chuckle. “Hmph, a fool's errand, but one I shall attend to for honor.”

“Honor?” Zephyr said, raising an eyebrow confused that the mercenary in front of him had a sense of honor. “What do you mean by that?”

“As a knight, it is my honor to do whatever my liege asks me,” the instructor answered Zephyr plainly gesturing at a nearby banner that sat in the corner displaying a rolled-up banner. “I may be old, but I am not some craven mercenary with a lust for gold.”

The man sighed as he looked at the bottle before looking at it. As he did, Zephyr could feel an incalculable weight settle on the man’s shoulders. One that threatened to crush him into nothing.

“And before you ask, I am not alone in the job that I have been tasked with,” the instructor began, idly shifting the bottle from side to side and watching its contents shift all the while. “I am accompanied by five of my fellows who were all present along with me during the sacking of the mountain in 972. We were sent here due to our age and experience in the hopes that our efforts may bear fruit.”

“I see,” Zephyr acknowledged with a nod. “Is it going well?”

The instructor merely stared at Zephyr in a mixture of baleful hatred and undisguised bewilderment. One that was only calmed by the balm of alcohol as they took another drink and finished it.

“It's going terribly,” the instructor growled out, tossing the now empty bottle they had to the side. “I wouldn't be drinking this much if it was going well. As I have said before my colleagues and I have been asked to do the impossible, and the dragons make for poor students. They are too proud, too strong, and too stubborn in clinging to their own old ways to realize the full danger of the situation that they are in. The only reason that they’ve even begun listening to me now is after I've defeated their so-called…champion in single combat,” he said with a clear tone of disgust at the idea of someone formally opposing him.

Randolph merely raised a dubious eyebrow in response. Something to which the instructor merely answered by pointing to a bronze sword that lay next to his cot.

“Won that after I ripped out her spine and I haven't had an argument since then.” The instructor duly answered. “It's a good sword if you're wondering, good metal, the enchantment is well, and I'm positive that it's older than my homeland so if I ever want to pawn it off I can probably make a fair amount off of it.”

Zephyr began to make a motion to respond, but knowing what it was the instructor cut him off.

“She’s fine before you ask,” the instructor said, waving off the question, “after the duel the medics stitched her back together, and now she’s one of the top leading students.” He stopped for a moment to think. “She could even be officer material if given the chance. Mhmh, something to consider later I suppose for myself.”

“I…see,” Zephyr said to himself as he took the information in. It wasn’t good, to say the least, The Isles were outmanned, outgunned, outdeveloped, and they were outperformed in nearly every aspect that could count. The only thing that Zephyr suspected that they didn’t was that The Isles was one of the few sources of dragons in the world. Dragons were tough and strong, and their legendary reputation that they had wasn’t for nothing after all.

But would that be enough? He knew dragons were stubborn and tough, tough enough to ignore bullets and shrapnel, but were they tough enough to ignore cannons? What about tanks? What about bombs?

He didn’t know, the thought unsettled him. Was the situation truly hopeless? Was the end so settled already in sight? Wanting to know, he asked the instructor for an answer. And what he got was a mixed response.

“To be honest it’s… complicated,” the instructor admitted, dwelling on his words for a moment in hesitation. “The situation I will admit is not entirely hopeless, but it is one that is clearly not in their favor. They have no rifles or weapons apart from the loot that they have along with the ones I have brought from my homeland, and there is no pre-built defense to use or ground to lose. If a landing is made it must be repulsed right then and there or in the early stages when they reach the ports or it will be the end.”

“But,” the instructor said, holding up a finger, “if they have one thing going for them it’s their heritage. Their hide is thick enough to repel most bullets, their breath can melt flesh and steel with ease, and they are stubborn in a very peculiar way that I've never seen before to injury. Because I do not know why, but they are able to revive themselves in a way that no other man can.”

“What do you mean by reviving themselves?” Zephyr asked, confused. “Like they just bring themselves back from the dead?”

“Not exactly,” the instructor answered with a shake of his head. “When they are grievously injured their bodies go into a state of hibernation. One that allows them to survive nearly every wound that I can imagine on this earth, even decapitation.”

“Even that?” Zephyr said befuddled by it. “I thought things would die if you cut the head off.”

“They do, but for dragons things are different,” the instructor answered. “Because for them that separated head can be sewed back on without a worry sometime later. A bit of stitching here, a few healing poultices made from gems there, and given some time any dragon can seemingly come back from the dead even if they were in pieces moments ago. Exsanguination, limb loss, heavy damage to one’s own body and brain, and more are nothing but minor injuries for them,” the instructor continued in a morbid yet fascinated tone. “There's a limit of course to time and one's injuries, but the concept of it existing is something that I've never heard of before.”

“Mhmh,” Zephyr merely hummed in reply. “But just because you're tough doesn't help a lot you know? You can’t do much if most of your head is gone and you are waiting for your friends to stitch you back together.”

“Of course, of course,” the instructor agreed with a nod and a wave. “But what I've mentioned is just one thing for them, and they have all sorts of tricks up their sleeves that’s turned them into the legendary raiders that they are known for today. For example, have you ever seen a dragon crack open a tank like it was a block of wood with an axe?”

“No,” Zephyr uttered out.

The instructor merely pointed towards a corner and upon further investigation revealed a large steel plate that was over six inches thick and with a heavy gash punched right through it. Next to it was an unassuming fire axe whose pommel was made from a gem.

“That stranger is what I mean by their heritage and the tricks they have up their sleeves,” the instructor said with an air of triumph. “Give them a magical axe or hammer designed to break stone and they can use it to punch through steel plates. They might not be able to destroy it outright, but all you need is a good hit or two to disable it, crack open a gash wide enough for the flame to get through, and allow yourselves a chance to incinerate the crew inside,” he said with a light tone and a chuckle. “Making the weapons is easy as well, and finding fools brave enough to do it is even easier with the students I have on hand.”

“I-i-i guess,” Zephyr said with a bit of a stutter as the mention of people being burnt alive brought back troubling memories. "So uhm,” he said, taking a breath to try to steady his nerves,” you write about the doctrine of modern tactics for the dragons?”

“Eh not entirely,’ the instructor said with a shake of his head. “I’m not alone, but I was the one who drew up the plans for that one. My comrades have their own ideas so if we ever manage to write a book I won’t be the only one getting the credit for it,” he finished with a bit of disappointment and envy.

“Mhmh, w-well, at the very least it seems that you have things good for now,” Zephyr said, getting up as his legs still shook. “I should be going now while I still can.”

“Alright,” the instructor acquiesced, “you stay safe alright? It’s a dangerous world out beyond The Isles, and trust me when I say this, people aren’t going to be as welcome or as ignorant as they are here.”

“I’ll uh…try sir, I’ll try, " Zephyr answered with a shaky smile before he began to leave, “ see you around.”

The instructor merely gave a wave of goodbye as Zephyr exited the tent and into the camp’s open air, and within moments he felt himself fade away.

W-well, I guess that’s that, Zephyr thought to himself as he took a moment to reorient himself. Now finding himself standing in the middle of The Mountain’s streets in the afternoon. The situation isn’t exactly great, but it isn’t hopeless I guess. Maybe things will work out for the better after all.

But on the other hand, it couldn't. The Isles will be invaded that was for sure by now and it wasn’t a matter of if it could be, but instead a matter of when. And when it did it could fall apart just like Equestria, except this time there would be nowhere to run to. Anyone who was living in The Isles when the invasion began would be stuck there, helpless to resist the wills of either the government in charge or the invading army.

And that didn’t sit right with Zephyr, it didn’t sit right with him at all. It sent chills down his spine, made hair stand on end, and made that sinking feeling in his gut sink even deeper than before. He had to leave while he still could. The only question was, how could he even do that? He didn’t know where to go, what to do, or even who to speak to. Without an answer, Zephyr chose to pull out the guide and look for somewhere to go next. It wouldn't help him right now with getting out of The Isles, but it could at least get him doing something in the end. And to him doing something, even if it only distracted him, was better than doing nothing.

What to do, what to do, Zephyr thought to himself as he read through the guidebook in search of an answer now that he was slowly walking. It didn’t provide much in the way of things. Instead giving him the usual script of answers that he knew before: stores, hotels, places to exchange cash, and more.
“Heavens above, is there anything that people do around here?” he grumbled to himself as he thrashed the book that he had momentarily. “Seriously it just feels like all there is to do here is just work, eat, sleep, fight, and who knows what.”

Frustrated he threw it on the ground whereupon the book split revealing a hidden page that was glued together, a a picture of a graveyard, but not just any graveyard one that could have only been

Oh hello, why have you been hiding from me so long?” Zephyr said to himself with a smile as he picked it up and read through the page. And of which the manual described a traditional burial site for many dragons within The Isles that started long ago. With elders, whelps failed eggs, honored foreign champions, and more being buried within the place.

But, buried for a loose sense of the word. As Zephyr read through it, he learned that the place functioned less as a graveyard and more as a natural crematorium site. Because anything that was buried there quickly combusted and turned into soot and ash in a matter of minutes, at least anything that wasn’t a dragon. If a dragon was buried there, they could slowly be cooked and cremated. A process that was extremely slow for them thanks to their hide and oftentimes requiring a helping hand to shift the corpse around like they were barbecuing meat.

But, it was the only place and method that worked for them the book described. Dragon’s didn’t decompose easily and unless they were eaten by another, destroyed by industrial methods, or cooked in that place it could take decades or even centuries for them to decay into nothing. And oftentimes failing to do even that as they would mummify or fossilize into an ageless thing, eventually be found by an errant student, and become a museum piece.

“A museum piece? How could that happen- oh right that happened last year didn’t it,,” Zephyr mumbled to himself as he remembered more than a few incidents involving archeology and dragon history in the past. Most of which involved dragons petitioning for a museum to relinquish their inventory of a new species or item that was discovered The basis of their claims was that the inventory that they held was simply an old ancestor that they wanted to be returned to them.

Sadly, most of those requests were turned down. Researchers said that whatever they found couldn't possibly be a dragon, as dragons didn’t have short arms, strange beaks, or whatever strange mutation they had found the accused object of having. One example is the widely known Tyrannosaurus Rex proudly held at museums today. Something which the book stated to simply be a minor species of dragons that just had small arms.

“Heh, honestly I have to see this place for myself then,” Zephyr muttered to himself as he noted down the directions for the place before making his way toward it. “Probably won’t ever get a chance to see a place like that when I leave.”

“Hmph, abandon all hope ye who enter here,” he said to himself as he took a look inside the graveyard that the book described. One of which he felt could have been better described as a pit that felt like the entrance to Tartarus.

Because the pit itself was several miles wide, deep, and utterly huge. Its size is easily able to accommodate both elder dragons, normal ones, and anyone that would be willing to cross the stone gate that it had for entrance to go inside. Something which stood as a border as anyone that was subject to that strange effect Zephyr had before. The very space itself stretching, moving, and shifting to accommodate its inhabitants with ease like before in the metalsmith's workshop.

As for what was inside the pit, Zephyr couldn't make out the contents due to the sheer distance of the pit and the effect from before, but he could see various people moving around the place. Some were moving deeper into the pit carrying on their backs gems, stones, small figures, scrimshaw carvings, and more on the singular road that went into the center. While others were simply flying around, either going into their chosen spot or flying so deep into the depths of the pit that they eventually faded away from sight.

“Peculiar place to say the least,” he mumbled to himself as he shielded his eyes from the sight. “I wonder what this place looks like to a camera. It’s got to be something, to say the least, especially to those colored ones.”

And for a moment he imagined an excited photographer trying to take a picture of the pit. Something that ended with the camera either malfunctioning, exploding, or showing a distorted picture of it like someone rubbing their finger across a newly painted canvas. With graveyards, people, items, and more moving from location to location like a spirit photo.

Heh. Well, enough of that I guess, the only thing left to do now is to go inside anytime soon, Zephyr thought to himself as he took a moment to ensure that he was still gripping his suitcase before passing the stone goat and making his way inside. All the while not noticing a sign next to the entrance that warned its inhabitants to not let anyone that was a dragon or a kiren inside. Because if they did the sign warned that there was a good chance of them simply combusting into flame due to the sheer heat that place contained within.

The trip there was slow, uneventful, but strangely peculiar. All around him as Zephyr walked through he could see dragons of all shapes and sizes going around. Some of them were carrying around gigantic palanquins upon which a figure was shrouded away from view in clothes, others carried tools with them such as hooks and shovels, and more than a few had with them the treasuries and offerings to be placed around. The wealth of those offerings is often enough that any person who just grabbed a handful of them could be set for life.

But strangely to him…nobody touched the offerings that were left out for the dead. Nobody moved to grab them, no fights started over them, nothing. Nothing except perhaps a simple nod of acceptance from anyone who watched as they moved on.

It was a strange place, to say the least, and if the people weren’t strange to the ordinary viewer then the road itself and the activities that took place along it would be instead. Because littered beside the road were volcanic vents upon which the corpses of dragons would be dumped, buried, and disposed of by workers. All of whom weren’t priests by any means. They were workers, simple as, and as simple can be. With them burying the corpses that were brought to them, tending to them, guiding the fava flaws that came from the various vents nearby, and excavating the bones of their fallen kin with heavy tools made from metal and bone.

As for the road, the road itself took care to never trespass into the volcanic vents, but it certainly went near them. Near enough that while Zephyr could never see what was going on inside of the events, he could see the heat coming off of them blackening the edges of his clothes.

Hmph, I wonder how much these guys are getting paid. Is it a lot or do they do it for free? Zephyr thought to himself as he watched a team of workers slowly maintain the corpse of a dragon that was as large as a mountain. Well whatever, moving on…oh?

Next to the ground that was on the was a discarded knife, one that was red hot. Without much care or thought he picked it up in his bare hand and as he felt it much to his surprise he didn’t feel anything. No heat came from it, nothing blistered his skin, and instead, all that was left was just him holding a red hot knife. but surprisingly he didn’t feel the heat at all even if it touched his bare skin.

“Hmm,” Zephyr hummed to himself as he then took a moment to casually move the knife to and fro from finger to finger and watched as it still didn’t burn his skin or flesh. “Shouldn't this hurt?”

And taking some time to recall his memory Zephyr eventually made the conclusion that yes, holding red hot knives should hurt. Especially because a little over a year ago he had a habit of picking up pots, pans, and cooking ware that were straight from the oven. So…why didn’t it hurt now? Was this a part of Discord’s blessing? And if so, how far did it go? He didn’t feel the heat from the furnace before when he was in the metalsmith's workshop and it didn’t hurt him when he dug his nails into his arm, so when would it hurt? Did it even matter?

Acting off of macabre curiosity Zephyr idly pressed the knife that he had into his other arm. First, just the side to see what would happen followed by its edge. Strangely just like before he felt nothing. Even when he scraped it across his skin and he saw the scratch marks form he still barely felt anything at all.

“Hmm,” he hummed out as he held out the knife and twirled it between his fingers, “that’s interesting. I wonder what would happen if,” he mumbled to himself as he inched the knife towards his arm with the tip pointed down.

But before he could do anything to himself, he was interrupted by a gruff voice by his side. And turning around he saw what he could only describe to be giant. One whose height and size were so large that he couldn't make out what it was, instead all he could see was simply a humanoid figure towering above and looking down. It had to be an elder dragon, nothing else on earth could match that size or presence.

“Are you alright young one?” it said in a voice that didn't have any physical volume, tone, or accent, but instead one that felt like a resonance. Like the feeling of a bell being played and everyone understanding what it meant no matter what it was. Hearing it reminded him of his talks with Discord. It wasn’t exact, not by a mile, but it felt familiar, eerily familiar.

“I’m fine,” Zephyr said as he slowly moved the knife away from his arm. “I’m just...just,” he repeated to himself hollowly before letting out a sigh and tossing the knife that he had away, “I'm just trying to know what’s going on.”

“In what way?” the elder asked him, “perhaps I can help you with that?”

“No, no, I don’t think you can,” Zephyr refused with a shake of his head as he thought about his ultimate predicament on how to get out of The Isles in one piece. “I don’t think anyone can, not right now.”

“I see, a pity then” the elder acknowledged his request humbly, “is there anything I can help you with then youngling? Or perhaps I should leave you alone.”

Zephyr thought about it for a bit. Could this person help him? Maybe they did know someone who could get him out of here, and if they didn't, it at least would distract him from hurting himself with a knife. That at least could be seen as a plus.

But, asking someone right away if they knew a smuggler felt awkward, he would have to approach the topic slowly and carefully, so how could he do that? Well, he could ask about the cremation pit that he was in for what information the elder knew, that could be a start.

“Eh, I guess you can help me with something if you have the time,” Zephyr said to the elder. Fumbling through his pockets before pulling out the travel guide that he had and holding it up as high as he could.

“See, I have this guide on me, and while it told me a little bit about The Isles, it didn’t tell me a lot ” he started to explain as he flipped through it. “Maybe you can help me understand a little bit more about it? I mean,” he said for a moment as he looked around again. “I’ve never seen anything like this before in any of the books that I've read before, so I was wondering if I could learn a little bit more about this place.”

“Very well,” the elder said with a nod of its head, or at least what Zephyr hoped to be its head. “Where would you like to start?”

“I guess how old is this place?” Zephyr asked before looking around. “Like is it ten thousand, twenty thousand?”

“Mhmhh, millions I would say is a better word,” the elder answered as they made a motion to think. “This place itself I would say is older than your kind. With the bones of the creatures having lived here perhaps outdating your people.”

It took a moment to smile, or at least what Zephyr thought to be a smile as it gestured around the place. “Mhmh yes. For example, I remember this place still existing long before when I had heard of some sort of…squabble between your people. One that nearly ruined them as they had summoned some sort of winter spirit that threatened to doom them all.”

“Winter spirit?” Zephyr said confused, cocking his head to the side, “do you mean the windigos? Those winter spirits?”

“Yes, those,” the elder confirmed with a wave as if it was talking about a minor event that happened last week. “I don’t remember much of it as I was still raiding up and down the eastern lands, but I do remember the cold that they had summoned at the time being compared to my cousin’s very own breath,” they said with a chuckle. “Sadly I never saw it myself as by the time I had returned to The Isles where the winds could carry the cold in-land they had been banished already.

“A shame,” they said with a shake of their head before they took a moment to think. “Or perhaps not, as from what I remember of my cousin telling me, there wasn’t much loot to go around from your kind. Nothing but wood, dirt, coal, and cold flesh could be looted from the nearby lands, and doesn't sound like appealing treasure now does it?”

“No, no it doesn't,” Zephyr began to reply automatically before the weight of what the elder had hit him. “W-wait-wait, let’s stop for a moment, are you saying you're older than Equestria itself?”

“Nearly all of us that are elders are,” they answered plainly with a shrug and a quizzical look. “Our people live for a long time, a very, very long time. Death comes to us not from old age and the deterioration of our health with it, but instead from war, illness, or mistake. Because in all of the time that I have been alive, I have never seen one of us die from simply…being old,” they finished as if the world was foreign to them.

“I…see,” Zephyr said, his head nodding in an automatic response. “Then I guess changing the subject for a bit, what do you remember back then?”

“Back then?” the elder said haltingly and a bit confused. “What do you mean by, back then?”
‘ “I mean back when there weren't a lot of people,” Zephyr clarified. “Back when the world was unexplored, smog wasn’t around, war wasn’t commonplace, and the skies were still free,” he said wistfully, believing the tales of a world that was unspoiled before the modern era. “What was it like back then?”

That set the elder into a moment of silence, one that was only punctuated by them nearly taking a breath and a sigh.

“I suppose that in a way it was crowded, very crowded,” they said eventually. “There was so much back then. So much more than your people, the gryphons, or the like with your singular nations along with the industry that they have. Because wild beasts roamed the world without care or master, civilizations rose and fell without much effect, each one being as unique as the last, and in turn, my kind was so numerous back then. Because everywhere there was a port, a city, or some village in the world we were around in some way. Everyone knew who we were, what we were, and what we did. We were dragons, the blessed species of this world, fearsome predators, rich raiders, and beholden to none save ourselves.

They sighed now as the weight of the ages fell upon them for a moment.

“No, not so much now,” they whispered to themselves in a voice that Zephyr could barely hear. “Now we are slowly dying out. Every year I've seen the eggs hatch, and I swear that the numbers that are displayed are so much fewer than they once were. There used to be tens of thousands if not hundreds of thousands of them, and now, now, it’s nothing but perhaps a few hundred or a thousand at the most that hatch.”

“A shame,” they said to themselves, shaking their head,” a shame. I’m sure in perhaps a few hundred years or a few decades of gruesome war we may be nothing more than a myth to you people. A myth that can only be dispelled by those who visit our island,” they said despondently. “That is if it hasn’t happened already.”

There was a moment of silence and one of grief that ensued. Zephyr allowed the elder to compose themselves, and The elder to mourn what had happened and what would.

“Is there anything that can be done against it?” Zephyr asked the elder. “Anything at all.”

“Not much I'm afraid, but I've heard one or two things. If I recall we could have lost an entire season’s worth if it were not for that petulant child Garble and his…poetry, they said with little confidence and a tone of disgust. “So maybe things can be better, but I wouldn't hold my breath.”

“Well, at least it’s something,” Zephyr said, trying to console the elder. “Maybe they can work something out in the future.”

“Perhaps, perhaps,” they said to themselves before letting out a sigh and turning back to Zephyr. “But that’s neither here nor there. By the time it affects us, you’ll be long gone by then, so let’s move on the topic shall we?”

“Okay,” Zephyr accepted before taking a moment to think. What could he ask the elder if he couldn't ask about The Isles of the dragons themselves? Perhaps Celestia? No, that didn’t feel like a good question either. Maybe religion? Maybe, maybe, but perhaps a better start would be what the world felt like to them now.

That could work, Zephyr thought to himself with a nod as he voiced his question to the elder, a lot better than asking him what he felt on how things are politics-wise.

In reply, the elder merely hummed for a moment. “Well, apart from what I've said about the world feeling more empty, the world has always been what it has always been. Nothing feels too ordinary and out of place in a broad way,” they said with a slight scoff. “Over a thousand years and the nature of the races of the world have yet to change at all.”

“Really?” Zephyr uttered out loud. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean the world has been what it has always been on the large scale of things,” the elder answered plainly. “Leaders are competing for resources, for ideologies, and for self-worth either for themselves, the place they live in, or for others. All the while war is underway across the globe, people are persecuted, they are slaughtered, recruited willingly or not to serve, and more. Nations rise, they fall, and in turn, life continues.”

The Elder looked at Zephyr as if they were describing the fact that it was daytime. “The world has always been what it has always been along with its people. Nothing truly significant has changed in my eyes in the many millennia that I've been alive. Except this time,” they mused for a moment, “I suppose that we are entering an era of bloodshed fought not with magic or bronze swords, but ones with guns and cannons.”

“I uhm,” Zephyr tried to say, somewhat staggered by the information. “But what about the maregyptians, Nightmare Moon, and so many others, what about them?” he tried to argue. “I mean there hasn’t been anything like that in a while and I don’t think anything will.”

“Perhaps, but in turn the consequences and the patterns that they are beholden to are the same across the world,” the elder answered back. “I can’t tell you how many times I've seen nations slowly stagnant into nothing, powerful siblings and families with demi-god-like power torn apart by strife or jealousy, wars started over petty reasons such as a man not having an heir that was of age, and super weapons created to deter war only to be used to catastrophic effect by men and women who do not know it’s true power.”

The elder scoffed for a moment with a sad smile that was unseen by Zephyr as they remembered the past.

“It’s a cycle youngling,” they said plainly with a tone of sadness in their voice, “one from which we are beholden to and unable to escape. The age that we are in may carry a different flavor, but it is still the same nonetheless.”

“Is there anything that we can do to stop it?” Zephyr asked the elder. “Any way to stop it at all?”

They only shook their head sadly. “No,” they replied. “We can do nothing against it, trust me. When you live as long as I have, you realize that history becomes in your eyes a spinning top. Spinning, spinning, and spinning, doing the same things over and over again until one day it’ll stop altogether. Harmony cannot stop it, absolutism cannot, neither can aristocracy, or any other strange ideologies the world may have nowadays,” they said waving an arm in the air.

“The only thing we can do in defense against it is to simply live our lives the best that we can and to the truest of our potential,” they continued. “That way when we are broken by it, we can at least be who we are,” they finished before giving a shrug. There was nothing more to say in their mind, everything that could be said about it already was.

Zephyr in reaction said nothing, he only gave a sigh and a nod. Not one of acceptance to the idea, but merely one to show that at least he was listening. He wasn’t sure what to make of the information. Was history just a downward spiral? He heard the saying that it rhymes, but did they eventually end? If so, when? When would it end?

I don’t know, he concluded to himself before giving a sigh, I just don’t know what to make or do of it.

“I’m sorry if what I said was not to your liking,” the elder apologized to Zephyr, noticing his internal conflict. “It is the truth, an ugly one, but one that needs to be learned. And better to learn it now than later through the act of senseless rebellion.”

“It’s…it’s fine,” Zephyr said, waving off his concern. “I think I might need a little bit of time to process it, that's all.”

The elder simply nodded as they cast their eyes back to the pit.

“I suppose in the meantime, is there anything I can help you with?” the elder asked one more time. “Anything at all.”

“Sort of?” Zephyr said with a bit of hesitation seeing his chance to ask the earlier question he intended for the elder. “Honestly it’s a long shot, but I was wondering if you knew a fisherman, a sailor, or something.”

“What for?” the elder asked.

“I’m uh,” Zephyr awkwardly said for a moment as he looked around nervously for anyone who might be watching. “I'm looking to get out of this place, and I need someone that can help me with that. And I don’t mean just to get me out of the city, I mean to help me get out of The Isles in general.

The elder said nothing allowing Zephyr to continue.

“Yeah, yeah, I know what I'm saying is weird, and it’s probably a bit illegal,” he admitted to himself with a bitter laugh. “But I do need help getting out of here because I'm sure that you know what’s going to happen here soon, and I don’t want to be a part of it…not at all.”

Zephyr made a motion to sigh, but he couldn't find the energy. All he could do was just make a bitter face and chew his lip for a moment before looking up at The Elder.

“So do you know anyone like that?” he asked the elder. “Do you know anyone can get me out of here before it’s too late?.”

He was met with only silence from the elder.

“Yeah, I knew that was a long shot anyway,” Zephyr muttered out loud as he grabbed his suitcase, and dusted the soot on it. “I should be going now, see if I can find someone before it’s too late.”

He was about to leave before the elder said hesitantly, “I do know someone.”

“You do?” Zephyr said, turning around with a sparkle in his eyes, “who?”

“A friend of mine who is a fisherman in the southern ports,” the elder said hesitantly. “He goes by Lazuli and he can help you with what you want, but,” they said, holding up a finger. “He will ask for something from you in return.”

“And what will that be?” Zephyr asked, expecting the answer to be enough cash to drain him dry.

“For you to fish with him,” the elder responded. “He is an old man, entirely alone in the world with no family, and his only companions are the harpoons he carries the skiff he owns, and the sea. I am sure that he will be more than happy to fulfill your request if you fulfill his own.”

“I guess I can,” Zephyr said hesitantly, “but why doesn't he just hire someone to fish with him or take on an apprentice? I’m pretty sure it can’t be that expensive to hire an assistant or two, especially if he’s a dragon. Shouldn't he be rich if he’s old?”

“His reasons are his own,” the elder answered, “but if I were to make a guess it could be because he’s already tried. Nobody will want to fish with him because of the reputation he carries.”

“And why is that?’ Zephyr asked.

“That he’s said to be unlucky, strange, and mad,” the elder answered with a smile unseen by Zephyr. “I understand why they say that though. It takes a very strange man to fish the beasts that he does with nothing but an old skiff and some harpoons.”

The elder looked at Zephyr for a moment before it nodded to himself. “He’ll like you, you're strange as well,” the elder said. I’ll send him a message and he’ll be waiting at the southern docks for you. Don’t look for him explicitly, he’ll find you.”

‘Thank you?” Zephyr said somewhat unsure at the compliment as he scratched the side of his face. “Can you tell me what he looks like?”

“He’s an old man, older than most, with tattered wings just like yours, and he’s dressed in a blue fishing coat,” the elder said.

“Is that where he gets his name Lazuli from?” Zephyr asked with a light laugh. “Because of his coat?”

“No, it’s because of his eyes,” the elder answered with a wistful smile that suggested something more. “His are unlike anyone else's as they are as deep and as shining as the sea’s. You’ll know it when you see it.”

“Alright, “Zephyr said with a nod, making a note of Lazuli’s key feature before grabbing his suitcase. “I’ll be going now, thanks again for the help, and may you have a good day.”

“And yours as well younglings,” the elder said. “Yours as well.”

With a nod, Zephyr left the elder and slowly began to walk back up the spiral pit to the surface of the pit. It was slow and a bit exhausting, and he kept getting weird looks from dragons around him, but nothing strange happened. Nobody bothered him, nobody harassed him, and while Discord’s blessing affected him as it blurred his memories of the walk, nothing else of note happened.

Which is good, because I can now focus on just getting out of here, Zephyr thought to himself as he finally made his way out of the pit in the evening and pulled out his compass. As before it wildly spun around and around again, south became east, east became west, north became South, and so on and so forth until he focused it in his hands. The only thing left to do now is just to follow this compass here and I'll get there in time, maybe in a week or two I’ll be out of here.
Hmph, yeah, if only, Zephyr concluded his thoughts with a small laugh as he noted the directions that the compass gave him and obeyed them. All the still not noticing the warning sign planted near the entrance warning travelers from coming inside Instead like before as he walked away his thoughts became loose, his footsteps felt like they weren’t his own, and within seconds he was whisked away to his next destination.

Chapter Ten: A Car Ride Chat

Here again, lost again, was the thought that Zephyr had as his mind resurfaced. Strange how quickly I am getting used to that, to be honest. Feels like I'm an actor in a play. Fade in, do some things, fade out, and move onto the next scene where you’ll read your lines, do your part, and everything will be alright at the end…hopefully, he thought to himself with a chuckle as he looked around. Well, at the very least I'm in a pretty good spot at the moment.

And he was because all around him were rolling green hills filled with volcanic soil that grew trees larger than any other that he’d seen before in Equestria, flocks of migratory birds making their way from east to west for the coming season, the dirt worn road that he stood in that snakes its way across those previously mentioned hills, the evening sun in the sky, and peace. Both of which were only interrupted by the calls of fauna all around him to which Zephyr cracked a worn smile.

You know this reminds me of Equestria in a way before it all happened, Zephyr thought to himself as he slowly followed the roadway towards one of the distant hills and through it where he suspected the southern ports were. Something which was confirmed with a look at the compass that he found himself holding in his free arm that didn’t carry his suitcase. Everything was so peaceful back then. No smog, no soldiers, no recruitment posters, no beasts, nothing, nothing at all. Honestly, it just seems so far away from now like we were in a dream. A dream in which the problems of our world could be solved by magical gems, princesses, heroes, talking to one another, and who knows what.

He let out a bitter laugh to himself as the mere thought of it was preposterous, foolish even. A world like that felt like something out of a fairy tale, or a childhood dream, and one that couldn't be further from reality than it could ever hope to be.

“Oh what I would do to get it all back,” he said out loud before letting out a sigh. “ A few years of my life? The cash that I had? Hmph, who knows, who knows. Sadly it’s not like anyone around me is giving that option,” he finished as he looked around and took note of how he was entirely alone, “a shame.”

And with that, Zephyr continued walking towards the Southern Ports. It was slow, uneventful work as one could expect it to be. Just him, the road, the things around him, and nothing else. Nobody bothered him, nobody asked him, and there was nothing to occupy him. It was boring, it was droll, and entirely uninspiring to say the least. Within minutes his mind wandered off back into the same thought patterns that he had before. The only thing that roused his attention from it was the sound of an engine from behind him and the clatter of tools and steel.

“Hmh?” Zephyr hummed out loud as he peered behind him and he saw a truck in the distance. One that was poorly built, maintained, and judging from the sounds of the engine pops was dying as well.

Well that’s an option, to say the least, to get to the port sooner, Zephyr thought to himself as he waved a hand while carrying his suitcase in the hopes that the truck would slow down. Maybe they’ll let me on, maybe they won’t, who knows, only one way to find out.

And it did, slowly but surely the truck slowed down, rolled down its window, and revealed its driver, a zebra. One who was tall, wide, strong, and featured several tattoos and piercings across their arms and face respectively. Both of these were separate due to the supernaturally inked black veins that all zebras had.

“Uh hi!” Zephyr said with a bit of uncertainty as he made his way over towards it. Craning his neck for a moment to spot her cargo of sealed crates and boxes. “I’m heading over to the southern ports and I was wondering if I could catch a ride there?

The Zebra merely stared back at him with a look of surprise.

“Uhhh, cat got your tongue?” Zephyr asked having gotten used to the habit of nearly everyone that he talked to so far speaking Equestrian. “Hello?”

She continued to stare, her body and her eyes still locked on him.

“Uhhh,” he continued to err with uncertainty, “did I say something wrong?” Hopefully I didn’t, it would be a shame if I had to walk the rest of the way there.

“I uhm,” the driver said hesitantly in what Zephyr heard to be the coarse tongue of Equestrian, “no, no, I’m fine, it’s just…I didn’t expect to see someone speaking my native language here, and especially from someone like,” she faltered for a moment before gesturing towards him, “you.”

“What do you mean?” Zephyr asked her “I’m pretty sure there's more than a few people from Equestria here, or did the restrictions come down that hard?”

“Equestria?” the driver asked him now somewhat confused, “what do you mean Equestria? I’ve never been there.”

“Well you're speaking Equestria after all, surely you're from there right?'' Zephyr replied with a bit of hesitation. “I mean I don't know any other languages. Never really studied them before college, during, or after, so I don’t speak about anything else.”

“Ah, eh, mhm, you know what, never mind,” the driver said, breathing out a sigh, giving him a semi-exasperated look as she turned her attention back onto other matters. “Where did you say you were going?”

“The southern ports,” Zephyr answered, pointing in the direction, “I'm planning to go there to meet someone, can you take me there?”

“Not all of the way, I'm dropping off these,” she said pointing towards the back to the creations that her truck had, “for someone I,” she hesitated for a moment before eventually finishing with, “work for. I can drop you off there and you can make the walk there. Should only be about an hour or two.”

“That’s good enough,” Zephyr said with a shrug before tapping on the door, “do you mind?”

“Hehm, yeah sure,” she said after some hesitation opening the door to let him inside, “just… don’t touch anything.”

Zephyr looked inside and balked. The truck's cabin itself was a mess: tools, pamphlets, cans, and more lay littered around the floor and on the seats.

“I uhh, don’t think I'll be able to, but I'll try,” he said as he got inside the truck’s cabin with his things and closed the door.

“Mhmh,” she merely grunted as she began to drive on.

Weird lady, but nice I suppose, don’t know what she meant about me speaking her language though, Zephyr thought to himself. And noting a strange feeling that came along he took a moment to massage his jaw muscles and to stretch his mouth as they had both suddenly felt sore and numb. It felt as if he had taken some cold medicine, talked for hours, and chewed a wad of thick and crude gum all the while.

Well no matter, he thought to himself with a shrug as he continued to massage his jaw as the feeling slowly faded away. I'll take someone a bit odd compared to someone that doesn't help at all.

And hey, I'm making record time this way, he thought to himself with a contented nod as he looked out the window and watched a flock of exotic birds pass by. I’m pretty sure Fluttershy would be jealous if she found out where I was. She probably never had the chance to see something like this before.

“Hehm, yeah, she would be jealous that’s for sure, “ he whispered to himself as his contented mood went away, “y-yeah.”

For the first hour, the trip itself was uneventful. The truck drove up the hill, it went along the spiral path that wound around it, it reached the top, it went down again, and did so time and time again as it made its way through the naturistic scenery of The Isles. Something of which made Zephyr bored in time. The surroundings were nice to look at, at first, but see the first gigantic tree for the twentieth time and you see them all eventually. So looking for a way to pass the time he idly rooted around the cabin while the Zebra driver was busy guiding the car up the sloped and spiral path of The Isles.

There wasn’t much to look at: tools, pamphlets in words that he couldn't read, discarded cans and bottles, and more. But there was something in the mess around him that caught his eye, a small badge, and one whose features held the silhouette of a dragon soaring against a white circle backdrop, proudly showing off its wings all the while.

Hmh, wonder what this is for, Zephyr thought to himself as he idly shined the badge in the light, probably some sort of organization I guess.

“So uh do you mind if I ask what’s this for?” Zephyr said, shining the badge in the driver’s line of sight, “something important?”

Rather than presenting a calm and measured response, the driver’s eyes instead shot wide open, and the grip that she had on the steering wheel faltered, sending the car veering away from the road and potentially off the hill.

“Woah, eyes on the road!” Zephyr yelled out as he reached over for the steering wheel and righted the car to its rightful place back on the road.

“Phew,” he said letting out a breath of relief, “you gotta be careful you know? Is this your first time driving out?”

“N-no,” the driver said as she re-steadied her grip on the steering wheel, “I’ve done this before more than a few times. It’s just,” she said faltering for a minute, "I wasn't expecting that to happen.”

“Wasn’t expecting what?” Zephyr asked innocently with the badge still in his hands. “Did something bad happen?”

“No, no,” she said a bit unsure as she gently guided the truck around the hill, “it’s just I forgot that I had that and it was a bit of a surprise to see that I still had it around.”

“Well you probably forgot it in all of the junk that you have around in this place if I’m being honest,'' Zephyr answered as he looked around the truck's cabin. “But you have it here now, did it mean something to you?”

“Sort of?” she said with some hesitation as she shifted gear on the truck,” but not so much anymore.”

“Why not?” Zephyr asked curiously with a tilt of his head.

“Things happened, I lost interest in the group, and life took me away from it,” she said tersely as she continued driving, “you know how it is.”

“Not really to be honest,” Zephyr said as he looked at the badge. He knew how people could get bored with things, but friends? He never really had one so he didn’t have a frame of reference. He thought it was just something someone got and once they had it they were set for life.

“Well it’s uhh,” the driver said, snapping with one of her fingers as she tried to jog her memory as she continued to drive, “think of it like this. You get together with a bunch of strangers, people who like you, respect you, and treat you well. Eventually, you all form a group based on your likes, wants, and most importantly,” she said, pausing for a minute before saying what came next with a sigh, “frustrations.”

“What frustrations?” Zephyr asked her. “Stuff like rent and stuff?” ”

“Mhmmh, sort of?” the driver answered with a bit of hesitation, “but not really, it’s more political stuff in this case.”

“Because a lot of us didn't exactly come from a good place,” she said to Zephyr. Places where you were always alone, where you didn’t know who to trust, who to obey, and how long you had to live until you pissed off the wrong person that could get you killed on the spot.”

“I can imagine,” Zephyr said, recalling his own experience, “those kinds of places must suck.”

“Mhmh yeah it wasn’t pleasant, to say the least,” she dryly remarked as she took a moment to flex one of her hands. “So when we came here the question on our minds was, how can we make sure this doesn't happen again?”

“The answer?” she said looking at Zephyr for a moment, “lay in helping each other one another in whatever way we can. Supporting each other, getting to know one another, and doing what we can to make sure it never happens again.”

“Like harmony?” Zephyr asked her”

“Sort of?” she answered awkwardly, “but not really. See with harmony you always tend to have some sort of leader in charge. The person who always says the rules on who should do what, when, and whatnot. For example, let's take Celestia. She rules Equestria, maintains her rule, and makes sure everyone gets along thanks to the centuries of rule she has over her. “

“But I’m pretty sure you can guess how that’s turning out by now if you’ve been paying attention to the news,” she said with a bitter laugh. “The first moment she could when the going gets rough and she wipes out every point of competition she can, sets up a state police, and puts herself as dictator in charge. Honestly, even before that, it was not like anyone could stand up to her. I mean who is going to say no to a self-proclaimed sun god?””

“N-not a lot of people to say the least,” Zephyr said in a hollow tone as he remembered the early days when The Monarch of The Sun re-established her rule. During this the jails were full, disappearances were high, the engine of war began to start, and a secret police he was sure existed formed to combat the changelings. “Nobody did.”

“Exactly,” the driver said with an ignorant smile to Zephyr’s sudden shift in demeanor, “can’t trust someone like her in charge, and honestly you can’t trust anyone unless they are an active part of your community. Because if they don’t, then they won’t know what’s going on on the ground floor, and they’ll just ignore you the first chance they get if you're in the way. Better to make sure that doesn't happen at all.”

“And how would you do that?” Zephyr asked her as he took a breath to steady himself.

“Easy, you just build a society in which they don’t have a chance of getting in charge and where everyone is equal, “she said with a slight huff to herself. “No monarchs, no presidents, and no CEOs.”

“But how would that work?” Zephyr asked her. "You have to have someone leading after all to get things done. Because if you don’t then who's going to say what to who?”

“I mean that’s what councils are for,” she said, her smile fading as the truck made its way up the hill. “Get some reps from your community, get those voices in, and have them work out a solution. Military in one section, industry in another, and so on, and have them work it out.”

“That sounds...messy to say the least,” Zephyr said with a wince at the idea of a bunch of people arguing with one another. “You sure that’s the best idea?”

“It’s…a little messy to be honest, " she admitted as she led the truck down the hill, “but it is better than the alternative that’s for sure. Because at least then the factory workers or those in the fields can have a say on how things should be done, they’ll have a voice that not only came from the place that they are speaking from, but that voice was elected to the position by their fellows, and they can be replaced just like any other person if they aren’t fit for the job.”

“Because let’s be honest here,” she said looking at Zephyr for a minute as she slowed the car down, “who's better at telling someone how things should go in a place? The manager who knows the numbers, and the employees, and used to work there firsthand? Or a man or a woman in a business suit who bought the place a few months ago and just wants to make as much cash as they can before the next quarter?”

“The manager I guess?” Zephyr haltingly answered.

“Good answer,” she said, loosening the brakes and continuing to drive, “and the right one. Because they’ll be the ones who can give the best answer that they can. They know the most, they were trained for it, so they should be the ones giving those answers. Not the ones with the most cash.”

“Right, I guess, “ Zephyr said with some hesitation. “That’s why they are paid the big bucks right?”

“In the world we live in, yes, but it shouldn't be that way,” she said as she moved the car around a chunk of debris in the middle of the road, “instead they should be paid just as equally as everyone else. Because if you don’t then inequalities start to emerge, forced leadership happens, and before you know it, you’ve got an oligarchy.”

“Mmhmh,” Zephyr merely hummed in reply. “So you're saying everyone should be treated equally?”

“Yes,” she confirmed with a nod, “but not like what others might say it should be.”

“Like what?” Zephyr said as his lack of worldly knowledge showed once again.

“Well like Stalliongrad I suppose,” she answered with the most apparent example that came to her mind. “For them, everyone is treated as equal, but in a way that’s unequal and inhuman. Everyone is given the same thing, the same chores, and the same job, but without any care or knowledge of who they are or what the job might be. Because for them it doesn't matter if you can only do four hours of work or you need special accommodations to do so, you need to do eight hours without any more than what’s given to the rest, and if you don’t you're out. And if you're out, your treated as scum, fined, imprisoned, and from there spend the rest of your life working in a penal camp until you die from starvation and dehydration.”

“It’s just…it’s just if you're gonna do equality, you should at least do it right,” she said with a sigh. “Treat people as people, not as expendable machines you know?”

“I suppose so,” Zephyr said with a nod agreeing with her in neutrality. “If you're in charge of someone from head to toe, you should treat them as people and not as machines.”

“Right,” the driver agreed with an appreciative nod. “You should care about the people that are assigned to you, know what they are capable of, and what they aren’t. Nobody should be forced to do something that they don’t want to do, especially if they are unable to do it. The only way to avoid that is by not just making sure everyone is treated equally, but also making sure they are heard, listened to, and taken care of. Because without that the system just becomes a machine that treats people as replaceable tools and parts rather than a system that hopes for equality.”

“I see,” Zephyr said hesitantly as he drummed his fingers on the window. “So that's why you all came together? To prevent what had happened to you in the past from happening again?”

“More or less,” she answered as she continued driving. “For some of us it was to prevent what had happened to us in the past, for others it was another chance to try when they had failed, and for her,” she emphasized, “it was to put right to what was wrong.”

“Her?” Zephyr asked the driver, “Who do you mean by her and by putting right to what was wrong?

“The current organizer for my former group,” she replied as she still guided the car around the hill, “Lady Ruby, a hybrid.”

“What’s a hybrid, like a half dragon half pony?” Zephyr asked the driver.

“It can be, but it isn’t limited to it. Anyone and everyone can be a hybrid as long as your parents bumped uglies in the past, “the driver responded. “And as for the one question you said earlier, well as it turns out a lot of dragons hold resentment for one another in their community. Because even with the monarch being a harmonist, she’s still a monarch, one who isn’t equal, and in turn might make the same mistakes as everyone else.”

“I see,” Zephyr said with a nod recognizing the fear. ‘Do you hate her?”

“The Dragon Lord?” the driver asked Zephyr with a raised eyebrow, “no I don’t hate her. She’s in a stressful position, she’s doing what she can earnestly and that's better than what I can say for the place I left back home.”

“But…just because she’s doing what’s right, doesn't mean that it’s for the best,” she said to Zephyr. “Like I said before, things are still unequal in her rule in one way or another. The rich and strong rule, the weak are ignored, and the dragon society is still unchanged. Just because your boss cares about you doesn't mean they can’t take it away at any time if you step out of line unless you're as equal to them as they are to you from the start.”

“I guess,” Zephyr agreed hesitantly, “like you said the only way to ensure that they can’t do that against you is if you can remove them at any time you want, and if you choose them to be there.”

“Right,” she said, agreeing with Zephyr. “Otherwise if you don't, you can easily end up in an oligarchy or likewise. A system in which the richest or those with the most power rule over the rest."

“Mhmh,” Zephyr merely hummed in response, “so what about your leader, Ruby?

“Her?” the driver asked Zephyr as she shifted the truck's gears to get it to slow as they reached the road’s end for the hill. “Well, she was the one who started it all. We all had the idea in our minds, but she was the one who started the conversations, got us together, helped us get a meeting hall, and grew the group from probably just another neighborhood group into an actual community. One that had a chance to change things”

“So what happened then?” Zephyr asked the driver. “Sounds like you still hold the ideals of your old group and the like. What made you leave?”

There was a clear and distinct pause to the driver when she heard that message. Choosing to think about her for a minute or two while guiding the car down the hill. Zephyr for his part patiently waited until they hit the flat road again.

“Fear…it was fear I guess,” she said to Zephyr while she shook her head in dismay and she started driving the car along the straight road. “Fear that it would happen again.”

“Of what?” Zephyr asked here. “Fear that you would get hurt?”

“Not just me,” she answered, “everyone. The people that were a part of us, the people that were around us, and the people who we wanted to help. I uh,” she hesitated before sighing, “I could see the old marks that I saw in my past happen again in that group.”

“Old marks?” Zephyr asked her. “Like bad apples or signs and feelings?”

“Exactly,” she said with a nod. “A lot of us I think just wanted to do things properly, send out letters, make a few speeches, and slowly but surely win over everyone, but there were a small number of us, the loudest, that wanted to do things by fire and by sword. They wanted to storm buildings, to thrash the capital, and to establish order,” she said with a growl before looking at Zephyr, “and do you know what happens to those people?”

“What happens to them?” Zephyr asked curiously.

“They either become terrorists, die, or if they somehow succeed then they become dictators,” she spat out. “I’ve seen it too many times to count back home before I got here. Ordinarily, I would ignore them, but…but,” she sighed as her face softened. "Honestly, I'm afraid of what will happen if they grow in power and lead the group as a whole. Because if they do, then who knows what might happen next.”

“I see,” Zephyr said, “but that doesn't mean that they will.”

“No, no it doesn't,” she agreed, “but that doesn't mean anything either at the end of the day. Because those kinds of people have a way of influencing those around them. Give them enough time to talk and before you know it you're seeing a bunch of people trying to stage a violent protest against dragons…dragons,” she scoffed bitterly. “You know, the kind of people that can tear apart the average person with their claws, breathe fire to incinerate flesh, and who couldn't care less about the people around them, those kinds of dragons. They’re right here on this island, you know?”

“Worse still, it might not even be needed,” she said, slumping a bit in her seat as she continued to drive the truck along the straight road. “Who knows, maybe The Scaled Princess would be willing to hear us out. Maybe even give up her crown if she sees that what we’re doing is good for everyone.”

“Heh, maybe, maybe,” Zephyr echoed her thoughts with a nod. “Who knows what can happen if you just talk it out.”

“Yeah, who knows,” she said, letting out a weary breath. “The problem is that now we’ll never get that chance from what I heard of her listening to them before I left.”

“So that’s why you left?” Zephyr asked her. “You left because you're afraid that what you saw could happen in the future?”

She merely gave a dull nod as she continued driving, and only paused as she straightened herself, shifted gears, and kept the car going.

“I’m uh…sorry that you think that way,” Zephyr said emphatically, patting her on the shoulder. “So what have you been doing now?”

“Odd jobs mostly,” she said, “move this there, do this small thing here, build this for someone, stand guard outside for a day, and stuff like that. It isn’t exactly honest work, but it pays the bills, and that’s what matters at the end of the day.”

“I guess so,” Zephyr said as he took a quick look in the back. “So what are you doing now?”

“Oh just a uh…delivery job,” she said, trailing off a bit awkwardly. “It’s just for my newest client who's been making me work a few delivery jobs. Go here, grab this, and drop it off there. Rinse and repeat until I earn my pay.”

“Hmm, well hopefully this one goes smooth,” Zephyr said to the driver as he began to look out the window as the last of his questions were answered.

“Hopefully it does,” she replied as she began focusing on the road, “hopefully it does.”

From there the drive from there the truck quickly fell into silence as it moved through The Isles's dirt roads. Eventually in time and by nightfall the two reached the destination of the driver’s location, a castle. But not just any castle, one that seemed to be hosting a party at the moment as the entire place was swarmed by empty carts, cars, banners, and more. Something that was only kept at bay thanks to a heavy fence with open gates that allowed anyone to leave or exit as they pleased. But whose contents featured an array of guests as they partied inside the grounds.

Zephyr could only boggle and stand amazed by it all as he witnessed it firsthand. The places that he saw before were gigantic, yes, but those were mansions, keeps, or townhouses. He’d seen more than a few of those back in Canterlot, but this…this was something else. Even with the decoration that was on display, it was shockingly utilitarian. No white painted walls, no gilded decorations, no ornaments, and nothing that he didn’t see already which he could attribute to be party favors. The castle was truly a castle in all ways and manners.

Nonetheless, the truck simply weaved through the chaos that was the outside loft and in turn made its way to a back entrance. Where a uniformed servant dressed in fine cotton clothes directed them inside. Something to which the driver obeyed with practiced movements and without a thought in response. Within moments the driver drove her truck into an underground parking lot that was nearly empty before getting out.

“Phew, we’re here,” said the driver with a breath of relief as she stopped the truck and climbed outside. “Honestly, that was about as smooth as it can get for that trip so good thing for that. Was worried I would find someone waiting for me on the way here.

“Well, anyway,” she said, taking a moment to stretch, “feel free to enjoy the party while you're here if you have time. If not, then just get out of here. To do so if you are wondering, spot the dim lights that you see in the southwest outside of the castle and follow it. You should reach the southern ports in about three hours.”

“Right, right,” Zephyr said as he tried to get his bearings, grabbed his suitcase, and made a motion to recover himself, “thank you again for the help.”

“Don’t mention it,” she said with a contended shrug, “honestly I enjoyed the talk. It passed the time and I got to reminisce on the old past. It sure beats playing I Spy for most of the day.”

“Well good for you then,” Zephyr said as he got his bearings before he approached her again as a question hit his mind, “but is it okay if I ask you something before we split?”

“Go ahead,” she said with a nod, “I've got a few minutes to kill while I wait for the workers to arrive to move my cargo.”

“Well um, I wanted to ask,” Zephyr started before he held out the badge that he still had in his pocket to her, “would you go back?”

“Go back where?” she asked with a hint of confusion.

“Go back to your group if you have the chance,” Zephyr clarified. “If the problem that you had with them was gone, would you go back?”

“I uhm,” she faltered, “I’m not sure to be honest.”

“What do you mean?’ Zephyr asked, confused. “The problem is fixed, you can go back. You support what they want so what’s the problem?”

“It's just,” she tried to say before sighing, “it’s just not that simple. Sure those guys can be gone, but what about others, what about the future? Who knows if what we want can work you know?”

She held up a finger as Zephyr began to speak.

“Yes, yes, I know, what if the problem is solved forever,” she repeated with a roll of her eyes. “But that’s fantasy, I mean, would you go back to where you came from if you had the chance?”

“Me?” Zephyr said somewhat surprised, “How do you know I came from outside The Isles?”

“Well the suitcase is a good start,” she answered unamused, pointing to the one that Zephyr had, “also the ragged look you have isn’t doing you any favors as well.”

“Right, uhh, sorry about that,” Zephyr replied with a half chuckle before it died away as he gave it some thought. Would he? He didn’t know. The idea of going back now just brought back unpleasant memories and with it hesitation, but if things were fixed then maybe he would go back. But only maybe, he wasn’t sure any more than that. Maybe in the future, maybe if things were right, but not right now.

But what if they were right? What if things were perfect, what if the war ended tomorrow and he could go home? Well, that would be great, fantastic even, but why did the idea or the thought of still going back feel like a weight was in his gut?

“I uhm, I don’t know, maybe? I don’t know really,” he said, echoing the driver's answer unwittingly.

“Exactly,” she said with a tired nod, “maybe. Maybe if circumstances permit it, maybe if someone asked us with a purpose we like, maybe if we suddenly decided and dared to go along with it, but as of right now it’s clear that we’ve made our choices for now, and that’s not going to change anytime soon.”

“I guess,” Zephyr replied a bit despondent at the idea of still running away even if things were alright before he was patted on the back by the driver.

“Hey, cheer up,” she said with a smile, “the choice is yours at least so take pride in it. Better that than having nothing at all, and hey,” she said, spreading out her arms wide towards the garage exit, “you managed to make it here by yourself. That has to be worth something right?”

“Heh, yeah I guess,” Zephyr said, having a half smile as he held out the badge he had to her again. “Any idea what I should do with this?”

“Keep it, to be honest,” she said, turning it down. “Honestly at this point, it only brings back bad memories.”

“Well alright then,” Zephyr said as he pinned it to his chest with the others. Something that caused a chuckle out of the driver as she watched.

“Well hmph, you look like a piece of work or for sure,” she happily said. “Some big government man you are, one who I presume has a friend from Griffonstone along with someone in the government. Where did you get them anyway?”

“Oh just around,” Zephyr said with a shrug as he took a moment to polish them with his ringed hand. “You would be surprised at what people would be willing to give you if you listen to them.”

“I suppose so,” she said with a contemplative look before she made her way to the back of her truck to start opening the crates. ”Anyway, you should be going now. I have some people coming here in a minute or two and I don't want them to see you.”

“Alright then, see you around,” Zephyr said, leaving the place and exiting the garage. But before he left he caught a sight as one of the workers opened the crates for an inspection revealing its contents: oranges, lemons, and the corpses of exotic birds and animals all bottled in alcoholic spirits.

I wonder what that’s for, he thought to himself as he made his way to the front of the castle and the nearby road. You know what? Honestly, it's not my problem anyway. What is my problem however is what should I do now?

Author's Note

Hello! Thank you for reading this chapter and I'm sorry for any cringe that you may have had during it.
The reason of why is that this chapter talks about communism or more specifically communist anarchism, something of which I really don't know that much about I will admit. I've done some research on it, I tried to portray it in a positive manner, but my lack of experience or depth with the subject most likely shows as in the above reading. Hopefully it was still enjoyable though in the end, but if it angered, annoyed or irked anyone then I understand and I apologize for doing so. I'll try to do what I can to improve my quality of work on any instances when I write about this subject in the future.
That's all I have to say for now. Once more, I'm sorry If I have caused any offence with this chapter. May you have good day.

Chapter Eleven: A Universal Business Proposal.

Well, at the very least, I can check the party out for a bit, Zephyr thought to himself after giving it a bit of thought as he entered inside, see the sights, maybe talk to the host, who knows?

So walking past the gates Randolph went inside the castle ground, and when he entered he was assaulted by what he could only recall as the few parties that he had seen back home. Where an entire home would serve as the place of residence for a wild party. One accented with golden and silver ribbons along with displays of wealth and fueled by liquor and gaudy music.

The entire castle itself was a playground for everyone inside and it featured: gambling halls, bars, libraries, feasting halls, party rooms, and more. It was a wonderland for any adult who wanted to get drunk and dance away or chat the night away with the many colors of humanity and society around them without care.

And colors there were inside, for in this place one could see easily see the various colors and shades that humanity now had today: recruits dressed in their fine cloth uniforms, coal-ridden workers whose being exuded the very aura of the heart of the industrial world along with its price, rogues draped in silks and cotton suits looking to pilfer what they could from the crowd, business makers, college students from the chancery, and more, but most notably were the soldiers. Although Zephyr had a hard time pinpointing if they were soldiers or not.

Because they were the ones that stood out the most to him. Most of them were dressed in a casual uniform that consisted of a jacket made from a sleek and stylish waterproof fabric that was dyed with accents of grays, blacks, and purple; with those that weren’t sporting a set of sashes dyed in a similar set of colors. Something which clashed heavily against the armored vests, breastplates, weapons, shields, and the grisly trophies that their wearers openly wore or carried respectively. It was a uniform definitely, but for what? Thugs? Gangsters? Bodyguards? Mercenaries? Zephyr didn't know, but he wanted to. The only question that he had on his mind was how could he find out.

Maybe I can look for the owner of the place or something, he thought to himself as he wandered around the place making his way inside the castle and passing through a bar and gambling hall. I mean if someone owns this place they’ll probably be around here somewhere. That or at the very least someone would know them.
Before he could start, however, the obvious struck him and gave him a dopey smile as he realized his idiocy.

“I could do that, or I could just ask one of them face-to-face,” Zephyr admitted to himself with a soft laugh. “Hopefully everything goes well like it has before.”

So grabbing his suitcase he looked for the nearest soldier that he could find, spotted it, and began to make his way over. Only stopped in his tracks as he felt a feeling that came from them that he had nearly forgotten until now.

It wasn’t a pleasant one, to say the least as it was one that he was reminded of before he left home. The feeling of ordinary men who could not only become violent at a moment's notice but would do so without even shedding a single moment of regret towards it. Shifting from pleasant men and women one second to murderous monsters the next. A feeling that nearly every soldier back home had.

And with an electric surge and a tremor in his hands, Zephyr remembered what had happened to him not that long ago during the night he left. How he was accused of being a traitor, a coward, a robber, and an enemy of the state for not signing up to fight against the enemy that was invading Equestria. Something to which he admitted, somewhat, as he preferred life above all else. The idea of becoming a soldier, being drilled day in and day out without mercy, suffering seemingly marches to the front, seeing the horrors of war firsthand, and losing his life in the blink of an eye gave him an unsteady weight in the stomach after all. Let someone else do it, not him.

So he joked the accusation away half-heartedly during the times they confronted him. Giving them jokes, a bit of cash, or faint promises that he never upheld. But eventually, it became too much during one night. Because the soldiers that he confronted the night he left home weren’t wide-eyed recruiters. They were instead the hardened veterans who had been torn away from their homes unwillingly to fight and were filled with spite along with scars they would have all their lives. To them, everyone had to fight whether they wanted to or not. They were forced to do the same after all, and for a coward who refused to there was only one remedy for that, punishment.

And not just any punishment that could be enforced in a court or a jailhouse, but rough mob-like justice. Tackle them, take them down, steal what they have for your own, beat them black and blue, make their jaw loose and broken, and when they are done, why not show them a lesson they would remember for all time for daring to go against the state?

Why not kick them to the ground, brace their wings against a nearby curb, and stomp on it until all of the bones inside of it were broken? Until the flesh that held them together was nothing more than pudding? Until the traitorous scum that dared not to fight for their nation as they had was on the ground screaming, crying, and begging for it to stop, and to only reply by simply dragging them off to jail.

That would show them, it would show anyone who watched the consequences of not doing their part in the war effort. It's not like they would have been useful anyway. And nobody would be around to protest it, the state and its people served the army, and the army needed soldiers, soldiers which would hopefully keep the nation alive for another night in its time of greatest need.

“I uhm, uhh,” Zephyr struggled to say as he watched a group of soldiers talk to one another. Most of which he could see were adorned in a wide variety of scars. Noticing his gaze, one of them grabbed a knife and pointed it in his direction. An act which caused the others to leer at him with the same intent that he felt the soldiers had back home.

“I should just, uhm, maybe look for someone else,” Zephyr mumbled to himself as he stumbled into a nearby passing group to break the line of sight, “yeah…yeah. Talk to someone else, see what they know, and go from there.”

And maybe grab a drink or two, Zephyr thought to himself as he passed an open bar and with an outstretched hand grabbed a bottle. Quiet the nerves as they say.

Sadly Zephyr’s efforts didn’t amount to much. He got no real information around pertaining and even after downing an entire bottle of wine he didn’t feel anything.

A shame to be honest, he said holding up an expensive bottle of what the bartender had told him to be medicinal liquor before downing most of it, can’t taste it, and I can’t even feel it. Worse still, I can’t even find someone that’ll give me anything useful.

That didn’t mean that finding the information was hard. It was easy, just ask around for the staff and people would usually answer. They treated everyone as if they were honored guests, even those without an invitation such as him.

Nobody had even had an invitation to come like Zephyr, they simply just came to the place uninvited and made themselves at home. Something to which the staff treated them with the utmost courtesy and respect as if they were honored guests: drinks were filled, food was given, handkerchiefs loaned with the expectation that they would be never given back, directions were given, and more. But the only exception to this was any request about their employers or the host of the party. Something which left Zephyr very frustrated in his attempts to find the owner to talk to them.

“I mean, are you sure that I shouldn't know?” Zephyr repeated his question to an employee, a suited man dressed in a black and white suit a bit later.

“Yes sir,” the employee repeated with a smile in what Zephyr heard to be Equestrian as they gestured around the two. “I mean you're here, the refreshments are around, food is available, and service is free! Who cares about such a little thing about who is hosting it or for what reason.”

“I don’t know, normally I don’t, but,” Zephyr said in reply as he looked around. The place was nice, very nice, loud, but still nice. He was sure that if he applied himself he could probably enjoy the place, once he found some earplugs of course to dampen the noise, but still, something on the edge of his itched at him that it felt wrong. Was it the soldiers?

Zephyr looked at them. He didn’t know why, but they felt odd to look at. And not in the way that they dressed, but more in the way that they acted and how the staff acted to them.

Because while everyone made themselves at home, they still didn’t know their way around and had to ask for help. But the soldiers...the soldiers not only treated the castle's ground as if it were their home, they acted in a way as if it was clear that it was somehow. They knew where to go to get booze or food, which tables were playing the gambling games they wanted, and even the employee’s own names even though they never wore a nametag. Something to which they responded in kind, greeting them as not strangers, but fellow acquaintances.

It felt wrong to Zephyr, but why? This shouldn't be wrong, but somehow it did. Maybe it was because they knew each other, maybe it was the atmosphere or the fact that this was a public part in which the ruffians and the gentle staff knew each other. He didn’t know. The only thing he could put a finger on was that this place felt odd.

“I don’t know,” he said with a shake of his head. “It's just something about this whole place feels off you know?”

“I do not sir,” the employee said with a shake of his head, “I do not.”

“Oh,” Zephyr replied somewhat defeated before he took another look around. “Well, I guess I should be going and keep my search up. Whoever is hosting this party probably knows what’s going on with the soldiers.”

“The ...soldiers?” the employee worded out carefully as if the word was new, “is something wrong with them? Have they started something with you or caused you any trouble?”

“Oh no, no, no,” Zephyr said with a shake of his head. “Nothing going on with them, it’s just I was wondering where they are from.”.

He pointed again towards a group of them talking with one another as they shared from a bottle of spirits. A gesture of which grabbed the employee’s attention.

“I see sir,” the employee said carefully before pointing towards a random group of soldiers passing by. “And why haven’t you simply asked them who they are?”

“Hehe, well to be honest they kinda freak me out a little bit,” Zephyr nervously admitted as he scratched the back of his head as he noticed another group pass by and shuffled out of the way to let them pass. “I-I- have a bad experience with their type in the past and I was wondering if I could talk to someone else that isn’t them.”

“I…see,” the employee said carefully. “Well, I suppose I can ask the other staff around if they know. I’m sure that once word spreads the host will want to speak to you.”

“And you would be willing to do that?” Zephyr asked the employee. “Thank you.”

“The pleasure is mine,” the employee answered Zephyr with a nod. “I’m not sure if it’ll have anything happen, but it could be worth a try.” They paused for whispering to themselves low enough for Zephyr not to hear, “That, and it could at the very least get me away from having to deal with the drunks,”

“

So with a signal, the employee left to inform their co-workers about the situation. In the meantime, Zephyr took a seat at a table while he patiently waited for them to return.

Nothing happened for a while, during which the party continued: guests celebrated, drinks were passed around, and over time the gambling tables that were set up slowly raked in the cash from the guests. All of them were either too sloshed from the free drinks running or were simply too preoccupied with the party to notice their quickly fading fortunes.

But, as before there seemed to be a particular exception for the soldiers. While they were still drinking, having fun, and all the like, they avoided the tables entirely. With them more than content to gamble with one another.

Hmm, Zephyr noted to himself as he took note of several soldiers playing a round of poker between one another, Well that’s strange. He was about to start watching the game when he heard a shout of words from someone nearby.

Looking in the direction of the noise he could see an employee, the one he saw before, point towards Zephyr accompanied by someone. Someone which Zephyr assumed to be the host of the party. He couldn't make out the exact features of the individual, they were too far away and hidden by the crowd to see much, but he could make out a few things. One thing, in particular, was that they wore a freshly pressed green colored suit that was decorated with medals and buttons polished to the point of near perfection, but that which heavily clashed against the glowing tattoos of their flesh that Zephyr swore moved like they were alive.

Nevertheless, the individual spoke to the employee for a second, nodded, and then disappeared into the crowd. Only appearing for moments at a time to consult with the other employees at the party for a moment or two before continuing. They were just about to reach Zephyr when a rough grabbed his collar and yanked him away into a crowd and out of their sight.

“What the bloody hell are you doing!” a voice spoke to him in what Zephyr heard to be Equestrian, “you trying to get yourself killed or dragged into this whole business.”

“Uhm, no, no,” Zephyr meekly said as a jolt of anxiety ran through him as he unwillingly followed the individual who grabbed him by the color, “I was just uhm, just wanting to ask some questions that’s all.”

“Well questions here are what’s going to get you killed, don’t you know that?” the voice barked at him as they continued. “The host here is dangerous, very dangerous, and trust me if you say one word wrong to him he’ll have eight inches of steel shoved into your gut.”

“Oh, uhm” Zephyr uttered out as he was led through the crowd by the voice, “uhm are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m bloody well sure! The man’s insane and he’s always a hair trigger away from having a meltdown, the voice barked back at Zephyr as he spun him into a clearing so that he could take a look at them. “Take a look at me, do you think I'm lying?”

And so Zephyr did in the clearing, with him immediately recognizing the voice to be from a woman, an Abyssinian, who was one of the soldiers that he saw running around the castle's grounds. With her wearing a jacket made of that same strange material that was accented in the three colors that were part of their uniform: gray, black, and purple. All of which belonged to a woman with sharp cat-like ears.

However, while her eyes were sharp, her voice loud and rough, she didn’t seem to carry the aura or the intention that the other soldiers had before. Instead, it was one born of concern, a concern which reminded him of his family trying to warn him before he did something disastrous. Zephyr knew with a look whatever the Abyssinian said was true, something disastrous could have happened to him if he stayed there to greet and talk with who he assumed to be the host.

“Well?” she said, raising an eyebrow towards Zephyr, “am I lying, or aren’t I?”

“No, no, I can tell you aren’t,” Zephyr said with a shake of his head as he moved a hand over his face. “I know that look you're giving to me all too well.”

“Familiar with it?” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“Very,” he said with another sigh, “my family used to give me it all the time.”

“Hmph,” she said with a snort, “it seems that you have a penchant for getting into trouble.”

“Ehh more or less,” Zephyr said with a shrug as he scratched his back with his free hand. “When I was younger I tended to mingle with the wrong people, say the wrong things, and often get myself into trouble. “

He snorted for a moment with a shaky laugh. “Honestly, if it weren’t for them, I would probably be ten feet under back home years ago.”

“Well, here's to playing my part for them tonight, ” she said with a smile as well. “Seems that you haven’t outgrown that habit, have you? ”

“No, no, it seems I haven’t,” Zephyr replied as a nostalgic look came over his face as he gave another sigh, “it seems I haven’t at all.”

She merely hummed in reply as the silence began to continue. With him watching the crowd and her doing the same. The thought of idly leaving was beginning to cross Zephyr’s mind when the Abyssinian spoke.

“So what were you going to ask him?” she asked Zephyr as she withdrew a claw and playfully flicked it at his forehead. “What burning questions do you have that make you want to go to the top?”

“Oh…just some questions on what was with you all,” Zephyr said with a wave toward her as he flicked her clawed finger away. “I’ve never seen your people before until now so I wanted to know about you all.”

“Heh, really, that’s it?” she said with a laugh. “That’s all you wanted to know, just who we are?”

“I-if you can believe that,” Zephyr shakily answered. “I had the idea to ask you all, but uh…uhm.”

“We freak you out?” she answered with a cocked eyebrow with her arms crossed together. “Give you the heebie jeebies, the creepie crawlies when you see us firsthand?”

“Y-yeah,” he admitted, somewhat defeated. “I saw some of you people and you reminded me of something that happened to me not that long ago.”

“Bad incident in the past?” she said pointing with a finger towards the lame wings on Zephyr’s back.

“Yeah, you can say that,” Zephyr said quietly. “You can say that for sure.”

“Well, if you want, you can ask me those questions,” she offered to him. “Doesn't seem like you're freaking out when your next to me right?”

With that question, Zephyr fell silent, as he looked on as a question hit him. Could he? She seemed friendly enough, and she didn’t have the same aura that the soldiers, if you can call them had. It seemed good enough and something was better than nothing after all.

“Well…alright,” he said with a nod as he covered one of his ears with his free hand, “but if we can let’s take this somewhere quieter and away from the noise. This isn’t exactly the greatest place to talk about the questions I have in mind.”

“Ehhh..sure,” she agreed with a friendly shrug, “there are a few places where we can talk that’s a bit quieter. The captain’s always been fond of having a few private places to brood after all.”

“Captain?!” Zephyr exclaimed alarmed. “He’s a captain?”

“That and more,” she said with a smile as she grabbed him by the hand and led him inside “That and more. I promise I’ll explain what’s going on when we get to a quieter place, alright?”

“Alright,” Zephyr said with a nod as he was led through the castle's halls.

Eventually, in time, the two reached a small private study. One of which had a nearby fireplace, a few paintings, a carpeted floor, a bookshelf, and a few chairs with a table. All of which were unused and seemingly abandoned as they were all covered in a thick layer of dust.

“Eh this should be good enough,” the Abyssinian said with a smile as she walked into the room and tapped one of the chairs with a clawed hand. “Just take a seat and we can get started.”

“That’s good,” Zephyr thanked the Abyssinian as he sat down and massaged his ears. “Honestly another hour and I’m sure that I would have gone deaf.”

“Mhmh,” she merely hummed as she took in the surroundings with her back towards him. “Say, before we get started is it alright if I make something clear?”

“Yeah?” Zephyr said as he put his suitcase to the side. “What’s that?”

“Just don’t try to start any funny business alright?” she said to Zephyr turning back towards him and with a movement revealed a heavy sword along with a revolver that was strapped to her waist. “I’m doing this out of courtesy and if you try anything I do want to warn you, I do know how to use these.”

“H-hey-hey don’t worry, I’m just here to answer some questions,” Zephyr said, alarmed and with his hands up as he looked around. “It’s not like I can even do anything with the way that I am.”

“Mhmh, yeah…I guess,” she said with some hesitation as she looked Zephyr over. “Not exactly you have any meat on your shoulders in the first place, you're pretty much a skeleton at this point.”

“I guess,” Zephyr merely nervously laughed at the comment as he looked around for something to distract him with. One of which he found in the form of a painting on the wall that depicted a young and malformed dragon woman in makeshift armor. She was seated at a bench surrounded by patches of metal along with nails and using a hammer to crudely patch together her leg by nailing them together.

“Uhh what’s that by the way?” he said with a bit of trepidation as he pointed out the painting that was in the room.

“One of the captain’s ancestors,” she blankly said as she looked at it for a moment with an expression of indifference and apathy. “He’s fascinated with the past and especially with the deeds of ancestors so he’s put paintings in nearly every room that can.”

“The one that you're looking at is someone called The Maiden of Iron,” she explained to him gesturing towards the painting. “She was said to have been an old war captain who was hired to take down a fort during which she was slain again and again. Only coming back through the effects of Torpor and by sheer willpower for getting the job done.”

“Why?” he said less as a question and more as a reflex to her as he looked at it. I only just now noticed that the scales that the woman had were not scales. Instead, they were pieces of scrap, debris, broken blades, and anything remotely metal that could have been found on a battlefield. All of which were nailed to her body giving her the look of a living monster made from metal and rust.”

“Because the changelings she was fighting for promised her gold and treasure,” she answered him with a dim smile. “Lots of it.”

“Did she live through it?” he asked her.

“She did,” she said with a nod. “She managed to live through the siege, take down the fort, and personally present the warden of the castle’s skull to her employee.” She paused for a moment before saying, “One of which I believe is a distant ancestor to the leader of the changelings at the moment.”

“Huh,” he said, “and what happened to her after?”

“She was rewarded, given her treasure, and given the option of another tour,” the Abyssinian answered with a shrug. “She accepted and from there served under the queen for 10 years conquering forts, slaughtering armies, winning duels, and whatever a pragmatic dragon mercenary is apt to do.”

“And after?” he said, looking at it idly.

“I don’t know,” the Abyssinian said with a shrug. “Only the host knows and he refuses to tell us. I guess that she either eventually retired from her duties to go back or died.”

“I mean,” she continued looking at it with a faint grimace now, “it’s not like it matters knowing to be honest. That happened centuries ago I think and the only ones who would care are the direct ancestors of those people themselves.”

“I mean I guess,” Zephyr said, pulling himself away from the macabre painting with a shudder. "Still, it’s good to pay attention to history though, know your mistakes, learn from them, whatnot.”

“Mhmh, ” she merely hummed in response as she took a seat. “I suppose, but let’s not talk about history for now. We’re here to talk about what I and the others are doing right?”

“R-right, right, better not to talk to get too distracted before we go off ” Zephyr agreed with a nod as he nervously scratched the side of his face. “I guess going back to it, uhm, are you people soldiers?” she asked her before pointing towards her outfit. “I mean you look like soldiers, but in a way you…don’t? What’s going on with that?”

“Well to start on the clothing it’s an idea that we had from one of the starters,” she answered while taking a moment to pick at her jacket and revealing the armored vest that she had underneath. “They said that instead of wearing camo or the like, we should wear some more…modern equipment to attract clients,” she said with air quotes before settling in her chair with a sigh. “As for the other part, we’re mercenaries.”

“Or at least…prospective ones,” she added semi-quietly. “We’re still trying to get the paperwork and stuff together.”

“Mercenaries huh, and how is this being allowed?” Zephyr asked her dubiously, as he half-remembered the few books of warfare that he read in the past. “Aren’t mercenaries usually forbidden from acting in a conflict or even existing in the first place?”

“Not if you're willing to shuffle some paperwork around, abribe a few people, and apply some loose labels to everything you do,” she said with a toothy smile. “Sure we’ll be mercs to our clients, but to the world, we’re just a bunch of strangely armed volunteers or a private security force.”

“And hey, it’s not like anyone’s around to enforce it,” she added, throwing her hands up for a moment.” Who's going to stop us? The world police?”

“Pft, I guess,” Zephyr replied with a shrug. “And this is being allowed by the Dragon Lord?”

“Not only that but being informally sponsored as well,” the Abyssinian happily replied to Zephyr with a snap of her fingers. “Heck, she even gave us a good bit of cash along with the rights from what I’ve heard so far so we can start up this operation. By my guess she’s one of the founders as well that’s coordinating everything right now.”

“Really?” Zephyr said.

“Really,” she confirmed with a nod. “I mean who else other than the ruler of a state would allow mercenaries to not only set up camp but to recruit from the people as well? Not many, that's for sure.”

“Wouldn't that be a problem later on?” Zephyr asked as the idea of recruitment came to him. “With you and her competing to recruit from the same place?”

“Eh not really,” she answered Zephyr with a shrug, “see unlike The Dragonlord, we can recruit abroad as the other founders have connections to help with that.”

“What kind of connections?” Zephyr continued to be interested as he thought back to what he saw at the party. Now that I think about it, most of them weren't dragons were they?

“Oh this and that,” she said, waving off Zephyr’s answer. “Don’t worry about it. Just know that for all intents and purposes, us and The Isle’s army will be just fine.”

“I…see,” Zephyr said somewhat hesitantly. “And what if the Isles gets invaded or involved formally in a conflict? Do you plan on coming back to help?”

“Well, it is our base of operations of course,” she said with a bit of a laugh. “Formally we’re not part of the army or even supposed to do anything about it. This place gets invaded, but I'm sure that the founders will be more than willing to give a hefty discount to The Isles if that happens to keep the peace.”

“Discount huh,” Zephyr said somewhat unamused with a flat stare. “So why would they want to do this anyway?” he asked her. “I’m not sure that letting a mercenary company run around your home sounds smart.”

“Well it probably isn’t letting a bunch of strangers run around with guns, but it’s one way to solve their problems I guess,” she answered happily. “Stuff like lack of manpower, equipment, training, and giving them the ability to let them help whatever side they want while making sure they don’t get themselves invaded.”

“I-invaded for wanting to help?” Zephyr stuttered out. “Why would they get invaded for helping someone?”

“Because as the war is going on in the west eyes have started to drift to here” the mercenary flatly answered Zephyr with an amused face. “The Isles is a great jumping-off point for a flanking army for the changelings, so if The Isles groups up with Equestria in the war they might have an army knocking on their door wanting to know what’s going on. The same goes for Equestria if The Isles sides with the changelings. Why? Because tensions with the dragons are still high and I'm sure they are itching for the first chance they have to get some payback.”

“Heh, and there's no way out of it?” Zephyr asked her despondently.

“For its people? No, “ the mercenary pensively confirmed to Zephyr. “In the end, they both see The Isles as a pawn that they can use for their games. It’s lose-lose no matter what you do.”

“But what about-,” Zephyr tried to say before being interrupted by the mercenary.

“Look,” she said glaring at Zephyr with an annoyed look knowing what he was going to say. “Helping harmony is nice and all, but it doesn't matter who wins the war or who is in the right if they both want you to be a puppet for their games and if they’re going to backstab you at the end.”

“Like honestly,” she continued looking at Zephyr while throwing up a hand. “Do you honestly expect either the changelings or the Equestrians to give the dragons a share at the end of it all if they help out? Sure they might give praise, medals, and titles along with a chance of survival for what’s to come, but that won’t mean anything compared to what’s been lost. The only thing that can make up for that is cash and land,” she emphasized rubbing her fingers together. “And let me tell you, they won’t do that at all. Not when The Isles is an ant compared to the giants that they will be aligning with.”

Zephyr was struck silent by that response from the Abyssinian. Would Equestria act like that if dragons helped out? He knew they would welcome the help with open arms and open hearts, but at the end of it all what would happen next? If the changelings were pushed back and conquered someone had to administer it all of course, and he knew it would be Equestria. He knew that nobody back home would trust a dragon to oversee the changelings, not when they could do it themselves. Take charge of it all, administer it in what ways they could, and try to reform it into a good nation. That or turn it into a living hell for the exportation of raw resources that he heard about on the news before he left.

And then what? That would be the changeling's fate, but what about the dragons? What would they get in return? Would the deaths of potentially thousands of lives and a potentially drastic reduction in the dragon population be worth it for a medal, a statue, and the chance of survival in the years to come? Something of which could be refused at a moment's notice?

Zephyr didn’t know, he just didn’t know enough or refused to conclude it all, but he knew that the idea left a weight in his stomach at the thought of it.

“I uhm, uh, err,” Zephyr tried to speak before only giving a worn smile and a shrug to the mercenary to which she echoed in response.

“Yeah that’s kind of the way it is I guess,” she said acknowledging his internal conflict with a nod as she lounged back in her chair. “Maybe I'm guessing it wrong, but from what I know that’s the way things are. Damned if you side with one side, doomed if you side with the other, so you might as well just see what you can get at the end of it all by playing every side you can.”

“I uh, I guess,” Zephyr hesitantly agreed with a shrug. “So what is this party meant for?”

“Mostly to celebrate and to give a welcoming party for the people we are recruiting from abroad,” she answered. “That and to give those in charge a chance to talk things over.”

“About what?” Zephyr asked her.

“I don’t know, logistics, egos, history, business deals, who cares,” she said waving a finger in the air. “As far as I know the parties are a place where the higher-ups of this company meet up so they can talk about what to do.”

“And the host is one of those?” Zephyr said.

“Pretty much,” she said with a nod. “He foots the bill, makes sure everyone’s happy, and he gets a spot at the top.”

“Really? He just bought his way into being an officer?” Zephyr said leaning in and somewhat confused at the idea of someone simply buying their way into rank. He had heard about the practice before in history books, but is that still an option today? Wasn’t that something that had been abandoned long ago?

“Eh…not entirely, but sorta,” she said with some hesitation with a wave of her hand in a so-so manner. “As we’re in the opening stages right now anyone who can volunteer themselves to a position while being competent enough to do it gets the spot.”

“Really?” Zephyr said somewhat amused and putting a hand to himself, “Even me?”

“If you can prove you're capable of doing the job, then sure,” she said, looking him up and down. “ I doubt you’ll make it, but you're welcome to try as it’s not like we exactly have an established chain of command yet.”

“That…sounds like it can be troublesome,” Zephyr said with a pained look on his face as he imagined a bunch of twenty-year-olds trying to get themselves elected to the position of a general.

“Oh for sure, it’s been a mess, to say the least,” the mercenary agreed with him. “If we aren’t having trouble with establishing the chain of command, it’s making sure what to do with all of the…recruits we have, and the fact that most of the veterans here are viciously stubborn about still wanting to use longbows, crossbows, shields.”

“What do you mean by that?” Zephyr said, confused. “Aren’t the mercenaries here professionals?”

“Not a lot of them,” the mercenary said, shaking her head. “A lot of the people we have right now are just random nobodies: thieves, debtors, beggars, bandits, cultists, naïve adventurers, deserters, war criminals, idiots, and anyone else that you think of that doesn't fit in this world.”

“Hell, I'm sure that the few knights that we have are either noble children born too low on the ladder to do anything with their heritage or they are just rando's wearing a dead man’s suit of armor,” she continued with a smile as she looked out the window. “Honestly it’s not like it matters for the founders. All they care about is that whoever is here is willing to fight for a paycheck. Not who you are, who you were, or what you did in the past.”

“I guess so,” Zephyr said as he shifted in his seat to relax a bit more. The answer he got wasn’t great and the picture that it painted wasn’t that great either. Zephyr imagined foreign recruiters roaming around the world looking for the poor and desperate to fling away into a mercenary's life, and one he suspected to be brutally short. Because most mercenaries didn’t live to see retirement after all according to the history books; they often ended up either poor, dead, or little better than armed robbers.

Well it is what it is, Zephyr thought to himself bitterly as a weight began to settle on his shoulders and chest. At the very least whoever they recruit will at least be deciding their fates for themselves…hopefully.

With the cue of a sigh, a silence began to settle into the room. Zephyr took a few minutes to compose himself and to shrug off the weight that he had and the mercenary waiting for another question. Eventually, he asked her one, this time about her.

“Me?” she said pointing a finger at herself somewhat surprised, “what about me?”

“How did you get involved in this?” he restated his question with a raised eyebrow. “Where do you fit in all of this?

“Well…how do I want to put it, hmm,” the mercenary said to herself thinking about it for a moment. “Let’s… just say that I know the flesh business more than the average person and this seemed a more honest way of earning cash.”

“Err,” Zephyr said somewhat confused, “what? What do you mean?”

“Eh if you don’t know what it is I wouldn't worry about it,” she said with a smile. “Just consider me one of the helping hands here that helps to move things around.”

“Well um…alright, I guess,” he said, eventually rubbing his head as a headache began to form. “Mind telling me about those people you said were obsessed with antique weapons?”

“Oh, the longbows?” the mercenary said, tilting her head at Zephyr. ‘Well, we have a few veterans here even apart from the local riff-raff believe it or not, but many of them are old and clinging to their old ways: disgraced chargers that refuse to use anything better than a magical bow or spear, stubborn and old knights that still want to use a sword and shield, and the odd pyromaniacal mage that refuses to use anything more than a fireball for their problems.”

“And you can’t do anything about it?’ Zephyr asked her.

“Not unless we want to drive them away and with it the only experienced soldiers and leaders we have,” she answered sadly with a shake of her head. “A lot of those people I mentioned influence along with experience and we need those unless we want to make an army entirely of fools.”

“Mhmh,” Zephyr hummed in response. “Doesn't exactly sound like a great way to start a mercenary company.”

“No it isn’t that’s for sure, but I know we’ll make it work given time,” she said with some confidence. “With the way the world is right now, I’m sure we’ll find it easy to get a job or two to kill or hurt someone.”

“I suppose so with the way the world is,” Zephyr said with a shrug as he stood up as his patience for the situation and the explanation that he had for the situation

“I’m..just gonna head out,” he said to the mercenary as he grabbed his suitcase. “Thank you for the answers by the way.

“Anytime,” she said with a smile. “Any idea what you're gonna do now as you head out?”.

“Head to the ports and get out of here,” he answered while accenting what he said with a gesture of his hands. “I don’t plan on staying here when war breaks out.”

“Smart,” she said with a nod, “smart. Not a lot of us have that chance so good on you for taking it. I’ll wish you the best then.”

Zephyr only gave her a hollow smile as he bid his farewell. With him making his way out of the room, down the floors, past the grounds, and eventually to the clean air outside All the while a series of thoughts echoed through his mind as he slowly recollected what he had been.

What a trip, he thought to himself, what a trip. One minute you're talking to diplomats, another to a dragon that’s potentially older than The Monarch of The Sun, and the next you're talking to an amoral mercenary, hmph.

“Well at the very least it seems to be concluding,” he muttered to himself as he spotted the distant port in the distance where his ride out of The Isles awaited. “Hopefully from here, it'll be smooth sailing.”

And by placing one in front of him Zephyr slowly made his way towards it. As per usual and in time as he made his way towards it his mind felt loose, thoughts began to become slippery, and in time everything blurred together into a warm glow. It felt almost like he was coming home for the first time in his life.

Author's Note

I think the idea of the isles making the decision to fund and to sponsor a national mercenary army a neat one. I'm going to assume that most people in the world are familiar with the dragons in the sense of them either being greedy mercenaries, isolationist raiders, or feral monsters so playing into it makes sense in a way for a nation wanting to prove itself on the world stage. The Isles earns international recognition while having the freedom to do what they as they deploy their soldiers across the globe under a disguise while being compensated for their efforts, its soldiers get the chance to satiate their lust for conquest and war, and the idea of the dragons still being strong is kept alive throughout the world thanks to the mercenary company.
I can imagine the above being available to all ideologic sides for the dragons regardless of the decisions one has done. With harmonists taking to it in a more benevolent manner as they seek to aid the area's in which they are hired for, fascists becoming a loose mob of thieves and bandits as they pillage and burn anything and everything in their wake to get the job done, and unaligned simply being an organized mix that wants to get paid. Everyone wins in the end, except the enemy, but that's okay, sacrifices can be made after all.

Chapter Twelve: The Hunt

Zephyr's arrival to the town was somber when he arrived around night. The town was quiet, small, cool, and the only place of industry that wasn’t the wharf was the dry dock and the wharf was the fish house or the few pubs around. The town was an isolated island from the world much less the nation it lived in and it showed.

For the first, the people there were different, very different from their northern counterparts. Instead of dressing in vibrant and loose clothing accented with golden thread, they instead wore woolen sweats, cotton shirts, and oilskins. Oilskins were made from materials that were unlike anything that he had ever seen before.

Instead of being made from regular waterproof fabric, they were made from what he could tell to be a flexible leather-like material. One whose patterns and in turn varied from worker to worker. One could have a set that seemed almost like scaled armor, another could have one that was slick and still seemed to secrete oil like it was alive, and the next could have seemed like it was patched together with a dozen separate materials while being decorated in a similar set of trinkets and small tokens made from crystal and coral.

And as for the people at the port? They kept to themselves. Nobody waved hello to Zephyr nor did they pay him much notice, and it was clear that they were reclusive and secretive. He was open to staying and looking, even to buy what he wanted from the few stores that were around, but it was clear that he was not welcome in town. The ambivalent look that he had from the denizens around coupled with the ominous presence that he felt as he walked around confirmed that.

So he moved on and into the fisherman's wharf. Watching boats both big and small rake in their catches for the day. Most were just the size of ordinary fishing boats and skiffs manned by ordinary-looking men and women, others were heavy ships crewed by giants, but all of whom were decorated in the same strange uniform that they all had.

Because the ships that resided within this port were no ordinary ships that could be seen in an ordinary place. No, while these ships may be the size of fishing boats and skiffs, they were all built for war against the esoteric monsters of the depths. They often sported hulls made of thick steel plate, heavy esoteric idols whose visages could be seen from all around inspiring both awe and fear to any who witnessed it, an elaborate furnace that spewed perfumed smoke into the sky, and heavy industrial devices designed to rig and to tow the heaviest of beast imaginable to the human mind.

And as for what these ships and crews caught? Like what Zephyr had seen from the fishmonger the catches that these fishermen caught were a strange menagerie that he had never seen before whose size and shape varied with each and everyone: one could be: one could be an eel-like creature whose body was made of a mixture of molten rock and flesh, another was seemingly made entirely from rubber that was the size of his hand, and the next could be something as big as his head with the resemblance of a jellyfish that flew through the air raining a miraculous liquid beneath it that was carefully gathered away in tarps and stored away in glass bottles.

However, no matter what size they were it was clear that they held some sort of invisible power to them. With every one of those strange catches that he saw having a sort of influence on the world in the same manner that The Twin Monarchs had on the sun and the presence of a hero on the battlefield. They were all shaping, carving, and painting the world around them in their brilliant colors.

Strange thought to be honest, why did I come up with that name? Zephyr thought to himself as he continued to watch the sailors work as the name for the creatures crawled into his mind. He didn’t know why he suddenly knew it, but it just felt…strangely right. Like a man simply knowing the word for hot when confronted with the fire or knowing that the lights in the skies were stars. It just felt right and entirely instinctual.

Well no no harm no foul I guess, Zephyr thought to himself dismissing the worry. Stranger things have happened to me and a name popping up in my mind is the least of my worries right now. However before he could think on his thoughts any further or watch the sailors and fisherman work he heard the damp sounds of wet footsteps behind him.

Looking in the direction of the noise, he saw what he knew to be the fisherman that the elder mentioned. He was dressed in a dark oilskin made from a dark leather and he was old, very old, so old that instead of becoming larger like the elder he instead became smaller to the point that he resembled an ordinary old man. His frame was small, he was wrinkled, scarred, and worn down by the claws of time. But his eyes, his eyes were different, very different. Like the elder said they were a deep ocean blue that sparkled and glowed faintly as if they were fueled by lit embers.

“Your him aren’t you? The one my friend told me about?” said the fisherman, Lazuli, in a tone to match his frame and age and Zephyr heard to be Equestrian.

“I am,” answered Zephyr with a nod as he patted his suitcase. The strange feeling that he had in his jaw when he spoke to the Zebra returned once more.

“Good, are you ready then?” Lazuli asked him.

“Uhhh,” Zephyr uttered for a few seconds as he had forgotten what he was asked to do by the elder. “To do what again?”

“To fish,” Lazuli answered. “In return for me ferrying you across the ocean to a safe harbor you will fish with me.”

Lazuli’s eyebrow cocked for a moment as he said. “You do remember the terms of our agreement with my friend, yes?”

“Y-y-yeah, yeah,” Zephyr blurted out as the memory of what he said to the elder struck him now. “Yeah, I can fish I guess, what are we fishing for?”

“Leviathan's,” Lazuli answered plainly. “There is a beast out there that I wish to catch. One that has become troublesome to many fishing boats in the past few days.”

“Right,” Zephyr said awkwardly as he grabbed his suitcase before rolling up his sleeves and showing his malnourished arms to the fisherman. “I hope you're not expecting me to throw any harpoons or the like. I’m not exactly a muscle guy if you can tell.”

“No need for that,” Lazuli said, shaking his head. “All I need you to do is to simply provide me company, come,” he continued while walking down towards his boat, “I’ll show you your position in my skiff.”

“Well…alright I guess,” Zephyr said as he followed with his suitcase in tow. Weird guy, but who am I to care if he’s willing to give me a free ride?

Eventually, the two walked over the wharf and came upon a small fishing skiff. One that was uniquely made entirely from metal, bone, and leather with not a single splinter of wood on it. Its mast was made from a heavy rib bone that was taller than him and featured strange carvings on it, its shell reinforced with black metal, and its oars made from crystal. It was a ghoulish thing fit more for the ferryman of the underworld than a fisherman’s skiff.

“I uhm,” Zephyr erred as he looked at the skiff that floated just next to him. “We’re going to be fishing in that?”

“Yes,” Lazuli stated as he got inside the skiff before looking at him and tilting his head in confusion. “Is there a problem?”

“Eh, no,” Zephyr hesitated. “It’s just…you do know how far the eastern continent is from The Isles right? It isn’t just something you can get to in an afternoon or a few hours.”

“I know,” Lazuli said again as he took a minute to check the mast, “but we’ll arrive there as we have agreed with you safely aboard my skiff and entirely unharmed.”

“A-are you sure? “Zephyr said with a bit of hesitation. ” It's just that…uhm.”

“It’ll be fine I assure you,” Lazuli comforted Zephyr as he got out a paddle from the inner parts of the skiff that was made from bone. “ Climb aboard, come with me, fish with me for a short while, and I will take you to where you wish to be afterward as I have said before. But if you do not wish to accompany me on my trip then you may stay here and wait for someone else to ferry you across instead.”

He tilted his head to look at Zephyr as he held the paddle out ready to dip it into the water. “The choice is yours and yours alone,” he said in a usual emotionless and plain tone, “I will not ask or force you to step aboard my skiff. That decision you have to make on your own.”

“Err,” Zephyr erred as he looked around. Should he step aboard and go with Lazuli? It didn’t exactly feel right, it was small, tiny even, and the things that he saw aboard the vessel were huge, titanic. What if Lazuli wanted to hunt them? What then? The dragon was old, probably older than The Twin Monarchs, the elder, and anyone else that he had seen before. Could he be trusted to take him aboard and to guide him through the ocean to where he wanted?

He looked around him at the various ships still in the harbor. Maybe someone else could do it instead like Lauzli said. He wasn’t the only ship that was around in the harbor. Maybe he could find his way aboard a cargo ship like last time and get him across the way. That could be easier, he’d done it before, so why couldn't he do it a second time? It was pretty easy in theory and practice anyway. Just find a lifeboat and lurk within it for a few days until he is eventually able to get out and roam around without worry.

But what if the first time was a fluke? What if he was just lucky? Maybe it was safer to just look for a ship instead, but what if that ship was bad? Maybe he should just stay aboard Lazuli’s skiff but again that doesn't discount what he already knew and what about…

And so Zephyr’s head spun and spun as he swam in indecision, anxiety, and distress. All the while Lazuli patiently waited with his oar ready. He’d seen these kinds of people before and the pattern that they would go through in life: barely living, never making a decision, and running away when it was time to make one. Always ending with them lamenting not on the decisions that they had made or the hardships that they faced, but instead on why they would ever even try in the first place. There was only one solution to this that wasn’t forcing them along.

“So have you made your decision?” Lazuli spoke clearly to Zephyr, poking him with the side of his oar.

“I uhm,” Zephyr hesitated again, his eyes snapping back to the harbor, the ships, the coast, and the skiff. “I’m not sure.”

“Why not?” Lazuli asked Zephyr, “What’s the problem? You have two choices and you must pick one now.”

“It’s just…it’s just everything's terrifying, to be honest,” Zephyr admitted out loud. “I want to get out of here, but I want to get out of here safe and sound, and I don’t think that you can do it, but uhm…I’m not sure if anyone can.”

He looked around at a nearby ship before pointing towards it. “Like, hehm, I can perhaps ask them, and they might be willing to take me aboard if I’m lucky, but they might just rob me, or sell me into slavery, or who knows what.”

He pointed back towards the ships in the harbor, his voice becoming raw with panic and urgency. “And I can perhaps go on a cargo ship to get out of here by hiding in a lifeboat or something, but again it’s like,” he stopped, his voice becoming defeated as he let out a sigh of defeat.

“I just...I don’t know what to do,” Zephyr confessed to Lazuli. “Do I stay here to look for someone? Do I go with you? Which choice is the best? Which is the safest? Which will get me out of here safe and sound?"

Lazuli only gave a nod in confirmation of this. He’d heard this a hundred times before and while the words may be different the song was the same along with the tune of its answer.

“I…cannot provide you with that answer towards which you seek,” Lazuli said to Zephyr. “That choice will have to be made on your own, but I can provide you with some guiding bit of information if you would be willing to listen.”

Zephyr turned towards him interested.

“A decision made now at the very least is a decision that can be improved upon later,” he said to Zephyr. “Because doing something now is better than staying where you are right now. That is waiting for something to decide for you or to force your hand based on your indecision.”

“But what if my decision isn't a good one, what if it's the wrong one? What then?” Zephyr tried to argue back.

“Then you will learn from it,” Lazuli answered with a shrug. “You will endure the consequences of your decisions, learn from them in what ways you can, and do what you can when there is another chance to try again.”

“But what if-” Zephyr tried to say.

“And what if you don’t get another chance?” Lazuli said, reading Zephyr's words before he spoke them. “Then at the very least, you can be happy that you made some choice for yourself. And that even if it was a poor one, at the very least what you did was real and decided entirely by you.”

“But that doesn't excuse the consequences though,” Zephyr murmured as a wave of anxiety rolled through him. “I don’t think anyone wants to end up dead with their last thoughts being that they were happy with the decisions they made. That doesn't change anything at all. You're still dead in the end you know?”

“I know,” Lazuli accepted with a worn smile, “but it’s a good lie isn’t it? We tell ourselves these false hopes and promises so that we can be happy when we die or when the time comes to face the consequences of our actions, but it isn’t always like that in the end, right? Because in our final hours, we will always panic and scream or cry and do what we can to avoid that very fate we set ourselves up to face. ”

"Heh, yeah I guess," Zephyr said with a bitter laugh knowing it all too well. "Always goes back to that in the end doesn't it?"

“Mhmh,” Lazuli hummed in agreement with Zephyr before turning towards him. "Look, I cannot tell you which way is right, which way is wrong, or what you ought to do now. That choice is yours and yours alone. But,” he said leveling his oar towards him, “I can at least ask you this instead. Can you promise to at the very least try to stand your ground when you've made your choice?"

“Hmm?” Zephyr said, confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that when the time comes for you to be taken into account of your decisions or to decide what is true and real you will at the very least stand your ground,” Lazuli answered. “That you will not run away in fear and desperation into the arms of those who are waiting for you to confess your sins and to decide your decisions for you.”

“Because I know that you will be filled with fear and with the urge to kneel with your head down on the floor in penance when that time comes, and that is okay. As I have just said before we will forever be afraid of the consequences of our actions, it is entirely normal to feel such feelings,” Lazuli continued, leveling a fatherly look mixed with pity at him, “but fight it. Instead, stand your ground, plant your feet firmly, and face it head-on. Even if you may not be strong enough to boldly proclaim what you have done to the world around you, even if your knees are shaking with fear and tears are streaming down your face, at least choose to not run away. Choose instead to stand and accept your decisions and or the situation you're in as yours. Even if you may be afraid you might not be strong enough to do so.”

“But what about,” Zephyr tried again still fearful of what the consequences of his decisions might bring.

“There will be consequences lad, there always be consequences no matter what you do,” Lazuli said again, shaking his head in dismay. “But at the very least you can take to heart that that even if you weren’t fit to decide your path for yourself at the very least you stood firm at the end of it all. That you did not wear a mask or a cloak of obscurity to hide your feelings from the world, nor did you run away in fear from having to decide so that someone else can decide your actions for you."

“So can you do that for me, stranger?” Lazuli said to Zephyr with an earnest look. “Can you at least try to remain faithful to your decision whatever it may be, to stand when the time comes to be taken into account, and to try to believe the lie? I know it may be hard, and the task may seem impossible but you have to at least try.”

“I uhm…guess I can at least try,” Zephyr said softly in response. “I can at least try.”

“Good,” Lazuli said with a nod and a hint of a smile. “Then what is your choice on what to do from here? I humbly await your decision. ”

Zephyr looked round, he looked at the harbor, he looked at the ships around him, at the skiff, at Lazuli, at his briefcase, and at his compass. He thought about what he should do, what he shouldn't do, the consequences of either of his decisions and more. All the while Lazuli waited patiently, his skiff idly rocking back and forth in the waves.

Eventually, Zephyr made a decision. He stepped into the skiff with his suitcase in tow.

“Then we fish lad,” Lazuli said with a smile as he dipped his oar into the water and began to paddle his skiff away from the coasts and the harbors of The Isles. All the while Zephyr slowly watched the Isles fade away from site.

This is it huh, he thought to himself as he made himself comfortable and put his suitcase away in a safe place. Last stop before we go.

He made the effort to try to say something before he left, to think of something that felt worthwhile, but he couldn't. Nothing came to mind.

Well, at the very least it was nice seeing you for a while, he thought to himself as he bid farewell to The Isles as it finally faded away from his sight. Pretty sure I didn’t see all of you, but I was happy with what I saw, until next time whenever that can be.

Left, right, left, right, the fisherman's pace was slow yet methodical as he stood tall in his boat rowing the skiff with their lone bone paddle. The effect of his paddling caused the lone skiff to cut through the water as fast as not could without any maleffect. No sound was made, and no disturbance to the waves could be made apparent to the casual or learned observer, it was almost as if the skiff was never there as it made its way through the ocean. Bobbing up and down through the waves without a single trace of its existence left in its wake.

The only thing that could be made apparent of its existence was its silhouette which was hampered by the two figures that occupied it now. One of which was the fisherman who guided the skiff with his oar and the other of which being Zephyr who sat in one of the benches and who now wore a thin oilskin jacket. And who without anything else left to do idly reflected on how far he had come in his journey.

It has been a busy few days hasn’t it, Zephyr thought to himself as he watched the fisherman work. One minute I'm cramped inside of a lifeboat waiting for the chance to get out, the next I'm talking to a smuggler of people, another I'm talking to an elder, then diplomats, mercenaries, and now…I’m here. I wonder what else I'm going to do from here, to be honest, once I get to the other side.

He thought about it for a few minutes but he couldn't think of anything. Should he make his way to Yale to Griffonstone to find out what was going on the other side of the dragon’s deal? That sounded like something he could do. He’d heard Griffonstone as a good place if someone had the cash to pay for what they wanted and he had months of pay stuffed into his suitcase and on his person. He was sure he would be fine for a bit if he went there for a little while.

If not, then perhaps Maregyptia? Catch a boat or two there, make his way to those thestrals, and head to that place that the priest mentioned…Moonspeaker hollow? Was that the name of the place?

Idly Zephyr held out his hand to the moonlight and watched the silver rings that he had sparkle and shine. It was worth a shot at the very least. That priest seemed influential and maybe he could hang around, take a few pictures, and whatnot before leaving.

Or, maybe he could even head to Yale and catch up on his studies. He did after all have his old college transcripts stuffed in his suitcase just in case and it could be worth a shot. Go to college, pay for his studies with the cash that he had, and wile away the time in class while the war waged outside. He would have to learn the eastern empire’s language first through a hired tutor that wouldn't be cheap, but it was worth considering.
Well no matter what it is, I’m sure it’ll be something to remember Zephyr thought to himself as he settled contently in his seat. Hopefully.

Time passed and the boat continued cutting through the waves like an icebreaker. All the while Zephyr and Lazuli didn’t talk to each other. Zephyr merely watched the ocean waves move up and down while Lazuli continued. So what interrupted them wasn’t one of them talking, but instead fish, and not just any fish, fish that were said to glow by some hippogriffs with the spirit of the deep sea.

As if a switch had been flipped the entire world underneath the two erupted in prismatic light, showering the world in colors. Looking underneath him, Zephyr could see a school of fish idly swimming by the boat. And while they were small in size, they were large in number, and he could make out the crystalline scales that they had bathing the world in multicolored lights

Peering down Zephyr watched them with awe as they hugged the skiff’s side. Each one showed off to him and to anyone who witnessed the gifts of their heritage, but in their lights, he found something in them that was strangely concerning and that he hadn’t noticed until now.

Because now his eyes had glowed. For how long had this been going on, he didn’t know, but they hadn’t glowed before and that was what mattered. With the sickly yellow color coming from his eyes and sclera now reminiscent of powdered sulfur. And it didn’t end there for his pupils, once a deep violet, had changed to a dark red sometime in the past.

Huh, he thought to himself as he pulled his eyelid and looked at it. Was he sick? No, he didn’t feel sick so he ruled that out. Maybe it was something that he ate on the way to getting to the boat from here No, it couldn't have been that either. He didn’t feel hungry enough to eat something unless he was prompted to anyway and he was unsure if he even ate anything in the past few weeks anyway so it’s not like anything could even poison him.

So what could it be then? It felt familiar somehow, but in what way? Idly he wracked his mind for an answer and when that failed he went through his things before he found it. On the back of the compass that was given to by Discord was the depiction of a strange winged chimera creature in an ouroboros, still flying around, biting its tail, and content to do that forever and ever.

“Huh, I didn’t notice that until now,” Zephyr hummed to himself as he looked at it and moved his eyelid a bit to look at his eye some more. While different in size and shape, the colors his eyes had were the same on the compass. It felt like looking at a weird mirror the more he looked at it.

"Hmm, probably something to think about later " Zephyr hummed to himself as he began to put it away, but before he could finish he heard the words of Lazuli next to him.

“Eyes up stranger,” Lazuli whispered in a low tone as he slowed the skiff down before he gestured out towards a distant light hidden by a set of clouds. “Do you see it?”

“See what?” Zephyr said, peering through as he finished stuffing his compass in his pocket. While he definitely could see a point of light coming through the clouds, he thought it was nothing more than a thundercloud or two. Seeing them on the horizon was something expected back home. Just normal industrial weather work that happened in Equestria before the war. Where sunny skies, rainy days, and even tornadoes were not predicted but made on a scheduled basis.

“Bluebottle,” the fisherman answered as he directed the skiff around towards its direction, and noticing which direction the skiff was going towards they dissipated at once. With every one of them huddling together in a school as they swam away and out of sight.

Oh just great, Zephyr thought to himself as he watched the light that surrounded him and the boat fade away, Just my luck to be stuck fishing a blue bottle. Wait, what’s a blue bottle anyway?

A blue bottle as it turned out later was a leviathan, a jellyfish that was nearly the size of a blimp that floated near the clouds. It glowed an ethereal blue glow as hundreds if not thousands of tendrils snaked down and dipped into the water below. Some of them were the size of ropes, others string, but all of them dutifully performed their assigned task of snatching any living creature that touched them and bringing it into the grasp of their hungry host that waited above.

“I-is this what we’re fishing for?” Zephyr half asked half whispered to the man as the skiff came to a stop just in front of the mass of tendrils. They were still a bit of a way away from where the Blue Bottle lay. From here on out they would be going into a field filled with what he knew could be compared to a field filled with razor wire.

“No, this was a request,” Lazuli answered tersely as he studied the jellyfish for a moment. “Missing ship came through here before disappearing and they needed to confirm what had happened to them.”

“And you were asked to do it?”

“Yes,” Lazuli confirmed with a nod as he pushed the skiff into the field. “We’ll be going inside to see if we can find any trace of their existence left.”

It was slow work from there. The skiff slowly made its way through the field at a snail's pace, plowing its way through like an icebreaker would. Separating the strands from one another as it made its way closer and closer towards the blue bottle. All the while Zephyr could hear the sounds of rope tightening and the coiling of springs as the tendrils idly moved around.

“Do not touch any of them,” Lazuli warned Zephyr as he idly batted one of the tendrils away that came close to him with a paddle. “Not unless you want to become food for the leviathan that is.”

“R-right,” Zephyr said as he sidled away from a tendril that began crawling its way across the surface of the boat. “Is this why some of you wear those weird oilskins that I saw earlier in the town?”

Lazuli nodded as he continued paddling, but not before he idly flicked the tendril back into the water with his paddle and into the body of a curious fish. And without even a second to spare that fish was caught and rocketed straight up into the air, near the clouds, and out of sight. The only trace of its existence left was the dissipating ripples of where the tendrils were a moment ago.

“O-oh,” Zephyr heard himself uttering as the skiff continued, “that’s concerning.” Carefully, he made himself as small as he could so that he wouldn't be touched by one of them while he waited for what would happen next.

Eventually, the skiff came to a stop in front of a clearing free of tendrils and fish. None of the tendrils were around in the area, none of them wanted to poke into it. Instead more than content to simply snake their way through the outside forming a heavy neat that ensnared any fish or creature that wanted to come through.

“So…did we hit a safe spot?” Zephyr asked the man curious as to what was going on.

“No, a catch, a large one, when they’ve caught something they tend to leave the spot they once were clear,” Lazuli said as he took a minute to stretch their hands with a wince. “Fetch the spyglass I have stored within my chest and hand it to me if you may, I fear the worst has happened to the ship.”

Zephyr did what the fisherman said and a moment later the fisherman peered through the glass before they shook his head in dismay and handed it back.

“Haha, it seems that they were caught indeed, a shame,” he said with a sigh as he handed the telescope back before pointing up. “If you're curious, see for yourself.”

Taking the spyglass with a nod Zephyr did, and peering high above and through the glow of the blue bottle he saw a sight that he had never seen before in his life.

An entire ship made of metal and wood was wrapped around and constricted by the tendrils above. Its hull splintered from the sheer force that was exerted by the tendrils from the jellyfish. All the while its crew or at least what remained of its crew hung all the same, but this time carefully suspended by the tendrils. Most of them were kept in various pods in a state of immobilization. The only evidence of their existence is the faint silhouette of their bodies as the tendrils wrapped around them. Some by the neck, others by the chest, and more than a few were carefully wrapped by the tendrils in a cocoon-like state.

“Are they dead?” Zephyr stuttered out as he watched the scene unfold through the telescope's sight.

“Most of them” Lazuli answered Zephyr, “but those who aren’t will wish they could be as they’ll be eaten alive by that thing one at a time.”

“Cc-can we do anything for them?” Zephyr asked Lazuli.

“Not without killing them, anyone who ends up in its grasp is as good as gone,” he answered with a shake of his head before he dipped his paddle back into the water to move the skiff again. “We move on for now.”.

“O-oh okay,” was the only thing Zephyr could say as the skiff slowly departed from the site. And during which he kept his eyes still trained on him. Wondering all the while if that could have been him if he had departed on any other boat headed out of The Isles.

An hour or two later as it approached midnight with the skiff still prowling through the waves in search of its prey, did Lazuli speak again.

“Stranger,” he said, shifting his grasp on the paddle that he had, “do you know how to row?

“Uhm, sort of?” Zephyr answered, still trying to shake off the vision of the boat still suspended in the skies along with its crew. “Why?”

“Because we’re approaching the site of my quarry's last known location,” he answered, setting down their paddle for a moment, “and to fish, I’ll need to be in complete focus on what happens next.”

“Uh...well, alright,” Zephyr said as he took his place and watched as Lazuli moved to the chest before they pulled out a large coil of rope along with a leather flask.

“So what are we looking for?” Zephyr asked as the fisherman opened up the flask and poured its contents over the rope drenching it in a foul-smelling ebon liquid and causing it to glow.

“Sea slug,” Lazuli said, his face becoming dimly illuminated in the same glow of the jellyfish’s tendrils from the rope. “We’re hunting a sea slug.”

“A sea slug? You mean like those weird snail things” Zephyr said as he grasped the oars and gave them an experimental movement or two. “Aren’t they tiny?”

“Not the ones here,” Lazuli replied to Zephyr as he grabbed a heavy bag filled with harpoons and strapped both to his person. “The ones that live within my home are large enough to eat entire ships. The one I hunt has become lost and has begun accosting the lesser boats that fish in the coastal waters. I fear that if it is not stopped now it will attack the coastal forts and ruin them.”

“Really?” Zephyr said somewhat surprised by the act of charity that he found himself in. “You're just hunting it because it’s a nuisance?”

"That and more, but those reasons are not for you to know,” Lazuli answered Zephyr as he grabbed a harpoon and tied it to the rope that he had before tying it to a post on the skiff. “Are you ready?

“As ready as I'll ever be I guess,” he said with a shrug before he waved for the fisherman to start.

With a nod the fisherman tossed the javelin far into the ocean waters, the glow of the harpoon slowly fading away until it became nothing but a wink.

“And now we wait,” the fisherman said as he took a moment to stretch his hands again. “It will take some time, but it will come.”

“Is this the time to ask a question or two?” Zephyr offered to the fisherman as he idly played with the rudder's lever behind him.

“No, not now, not until this is over,” the fisherman replied with a shake of his head sitting on the adjacent bench next to him as he watched the rope. “Perhaps not even then, but there will be a chance when you leave my boat. Be quiet until then if you may.”

Sighing but giving the man a nod Zephyr waited as did he for something to happen.

They didn’t have to wait long as the sound of a gunshot, the rope shot off toward the fisherman's hands feeding more and more line to the waves. Smiling to himself the fisherman calmly got up judging the rope in his hands before eventually bringing it to support his shoulders and facing away, he yanked it hard.

At once there was a rush that cut through the waters as Zephyr could feel the boat rocking back and forth and his hat nearly being blown away. Looking in the direction of it he could see a faint prismatic glow enveloping the waters unveiling Lazuli’s prey. .

Featureless, scaleless, but yet whose skin was made of exotic blues and whites in a flowing pattern of ribbons and stripes the prey revealed itself to mortal eyes. It was a creature whose size could match that of an elder dragon. With two tentacles for eyes, it merely glanced at the small skiff and dared to try before it began to move away dragging the boat along with it and pulling it with a speed that could match any motorboat of its time.

Shocked and stiffened Zephyr clung to the side as the skiff lurched forward suddenly helpless before the beast Lazuli however stood tall and ready, the glow in his eyes becoming brighter than they ever had before.

“Ahh it’s time, “he mumbled as he began to grab Zephyr and pulled him up to his feet, “get up.”

“Buwah,” Zephyr groaned as he did so. “What was that thing?”

“The catch,” Lazuli answered Zephyr as he moved over towards the ropes and began untying one of the posts on the boat before looking at him. “I’ll need you to do something, are you ready?”

Zephyr only gave a faint nod to the fisherman. Whether it was out of instinct or out of habit, he didn’t know, but Lazuli took it as a sign of acceptance nonetheless.

“Keep the boat afloat until you see my signal,” Lazuli ordered Zephyr as he finished untying the rope and began tying it to his right arm and back. “When you do see it, row towards me. I’ll be away until then.”

“A-away, for how long?” Zephyr asked Lazuli as he began to pull himself together and sit back in his place. “What should I even pay attention to?

“You’ll know it when you see it,” Lazuli answered Zephyr as he made sure his harpoon bag was secured to his back. “Just keep quiet and keep a lookout.”

“B-but what about,” Zephyr tried to say before Lazuli jumped off the skiff, spread his tattered blue wings wide, and followed his ropes lead of his catch. The sheer force of his leap sent the skiff bobbing back and forth and a spray of seawater to nearly blind Zephyr.

“But what about me,” he finished meekly with a sigh.
Well, at the very least I guess I now know how my parents feel when Fluttershy leaves to go on her adventures, he thought to himself as he watched Lazuli fade away from sight. Not exactly a pleasant feeling to be honest.

“Well, now what do I do?” he said to himself as he watched the rolling seas around him bob the boat up and down.

He didn’t have an answer for it so he simply sat in the center of the skiff, made sure his skin was tight, and waited for something to happen.

And waited.

And waited some more.

Eventually, he began to pick through the boat’s belongings when he got sick and tired of waiting. Sadly it didn’t have much to sate his boredom. The contents of the skiff along with its chest merely had flasks, hooks, ropes, knives, and the instruments of sailing and fishing.

“Nothing that would make a good souvenir, to say the least,” he mumbled to himself as he momentarily held a hook in his hands before tossing it back. “I wonder where Lazuli is-”

A roar of thunder in the distance coupled with the flash of lightning was Zephyr's answer to his question. Far away from him, but not out of sight nor sound Zephyr witnessed the Leviathan shrieking and screaming as it was both electrocuted alive while being harpooned by Lazuli. Whose silhouette he could see darted in and around it like a firefly as he assaulted the fish with a harpoon, fire, sword, and claw.

And as just as quickly as it came, the scene that Zephyr saw before him vanished. The only remnants of it were the faint pillar of smoke on the horizon.

I guess that’s my signal, Zephyr thought to himself as he grabbed the oars and slowly made his way over, A hell of a signal to say the least that’s for sure.

The scene that Zephyr came across was a peculiar one. The Leviathan, once standing tall and strong as any other dragon, was reduced now to a meek husk of its former self. Its body was now burnt black by lightning, slashed to ribbons revealing puffy white oily flesh underneath its skin that seeped a thin liquid from it, pierced over twenty times by harpoons that were as tall as any normal man, and encased in roped webbing from head to toe that kept it afloat through buoys. Its slayer, Lazuli, meanwhile sat still on its body with a heavy sword on his lap and a lit pipe from his mouth, his claws drenched in acidic ichor.

“Well top-notch work if I do say so myself,” Zephyr said to himself as he rowed the skiff closer to the dead leviathan. “Come down when you're ready to keep going.”

Lazuli did not respond. The pipe that he had in his mouth slowly belched out colored pink smoke.

“Lazuli!” Zephyr called out again haltingly. “

Still no response, he was still as stone. A ball of anxiety rolled through Zephyr’s gut.

“Well uhh, I'll be making my way up there alright?” Zephyr said as he got up from his seat and looked around for a place to climb aboard. “Just stay still for a moment or two.”

When he got up Zephyr could finally see that Lazuli was a wreck. Whatever price that he paid to slay the beast nearly claimed his life. His flesh like the beasts was raw and burnt, with the scales on his hands having cracked open revealing fissures into his flesh that reminded him of the librarian, and his clothes were torn and ragged.

“Old man?” Zephyr called out to him as he got closer, “Are…are you okay?”

That aroused the old dragon. With a “Mhmh, yes, yes,” Lazuli slowly opened his now bloodshot and tired eyes to Zephyr.

“Yes I am fine son,” he said as he got up slowly. “The beast is dead and with it the night’s work.”

“It…it is,” Zephyr nervously said as he looked around and tapped the dead leviathan that he stood on with his shoes, “that’s for sure.”

“Yes,” Lazuli repeated as he worked his mouth and jaw as if he were chewing a wad of something that was both thick and hard, “it is dead.”

“Right it’s dead old man, it’s dead,” Zephyr repeated out loud to assure him of the fact. “Do you want to get to the skiff?”

“Yes….yes we should do that,” Lazuli said as he began to stand up. “We should go.”

“R-right, yeah,” Zephyr said again, making his way over to support the old dragon to help him down the leviathan. “Anything that you want to drink when we get down there?”

“Coffee,” Lazuli said as he was helped down, “I have a flask of coffee in my chest and I would like to drink that very much.”

“Alright, then,” Zephyr said, noting it down, “I’ll make sure to find that for you when we get down.”

“Well, what’s done is done son,” Lazuli wheezed out as he nursed a flask of coffee in his now bandaged hands The flame in his eyes was now reduced to nearly imperceptible sparks. “Are you ready to go?”

“Go?” Zephyr said confused as he put away a set of bandages that he found back in the chest, “where?”

“To where you agreed with my friend,” Lazuli said as he stood up with a huff, “to the east.”

“Right, the east,” said unsure as Lazuli began to unfurl a heavy leather sail from the mast, one that was inked by and etched and tattooed with strange glyphs and runes. “You sure can do it?”

“I can Zephyr,” he said as he adjusted the sail for heading and grabbed his paddle, “I can, and in a single night. It is what I was asked to do and so it will be done.”

“Well, alright then,” Zephyr said, closing the chest and beginning to wait, “I’ll wish you the best of luck taking me there then.”

Lazuli only gave a nod as he dipped his paddle into it and began to guide the skiff to the east. All the while slowly towing the leviathan behind them.

As promised the skiff made the journey in a single night. Traveling hundreds if not thousands of miles across the ocean to foreign shores. To where exactly? Zephyr didn’t know, but he knew that it wasn’t Equestria or The Isles. He had been idly following his compass during the journey and never once did they go west.

Nonetheless, slowly, gently, and perhaps a bit deliriously Lazuli guided the skiff onto the shores as close as he dared.

“And here we are stranger,” Lazuli slurred as he speared his paddle into the water for a moment to anchor it momentarily, “what you do from here on out is up to you.”

“Thank you,” Zephyr said as he looked around for his suitcase and climbed out and into the coast, his oil skin put back on the skiff, before looking around as the waves idly lapped at his legs. No towns, no cities, no lights, nothing was in sight, nothing but him, the shore, and the skies above.

“Don’t mention it,” Lazuli replied as he began to move again. “If you ever wish to fish simply wait by the harbor and I will be there.”

Well a-alright then, good luck on your way back I guess, ” Zephyr said and waved goodbye to Lazuli as he gently guided the skiff away. Lazuli for his part remained silent as he guided it away, his thoughts focused instead on coming home.

“Hehm, well, I should just get going again then, anywhere's better than here,” Zephyr said to himself as he walked ashore. Eventually, when he reached solid ground he extended the handle on his suitcase, planted its wheels on the ground, and kept walking east. Pausing only to look at the stars shining bright overhead and to feel the western wind gently pulling him back, but not for long as he continued and in time he could feel the compass doing its work as it whisked him away to parts and time unknown.

Author's Note

Author's note: And that’s the end of the story! I’ve worked on this baby for about a year and half now and we’ve finally hit the end. If you've made it this far through my probably not great writing then thank you! I appreciate the time that you've taken in reading this story.

Moving on, Zephyr’s story most likely continues from here on out for quite some time. To where and to do what, who knows, but I'm sure that in a world full of war he’ll be looking for a safe place for a long time. I won't be writing it as I think i've hit a solid stopping point in this story, but I'll be daydreaming about it from time to time that's for sure.

Otherwise, I might publish a set of blogs about what i've talked about in the story can be used as a focus tree in the HOI4 mod while talking about my view of The Isles in greater detail? I dunno, I'm not a game designer, I don't know code, i'm a random nobody, and I have no immediate plans on ever implementing it in a mod or like-wise. I honestly kind of want to write other stuff, play some games, and eventually move onto original projects. Of course this can change with time or with support given by others, but times always a weird thing to be honest and I'm just by myself at the moment. (If your interested in making such a thing though, message me? I dunno. Again, no promises or anything like that.)

And with that that's more or less the end of it. Hopefully you enjoyed it, if not that's okay, and may you have a good day. Bye!