Revengeance of a Solar Princess

By Silvertie

– 04 –

An Early Start

Bright And Early ♦ Neighponese Steel ♦ The Shallow Grave ♦ Onward, Ever Onward

The room was mostly dark, the barest traces of sunlight penetrating the vineightian blinds to illuminate the dark, messy room.

A room littered with detritus from a life lived large, and filled with the unladylike, ratcheting snores of the mare that lay sprawled across an old, beat-up couch, one hoof hanging off the edge and lending support to a half-full bottle of cider that balanced precariously on it’s edge, against the side of the white hoof, the slightest movement enough to disturb the precariously-balanced vessel.

Right on cue, there was a sharp rapping on the door. A series of raps that were quickly replaced with thumps.

Around the sixth volley of thumping, there was a snort as someone was roused from slumber, and a white torso twitched violently as the mare was dragged into the world of the living. On the ground, the bottle of cider finally rolled to a side, and began to fall.

Like blue lightning, a glow of magic grabbed the bottle, and the mare groaned as she sat up, pulling the bottle into her mouth as she tried to open her eyes and see the world.

“Ugh,” she groaned as the much-reduced sunlight still proved to be too much for her, and closed her eyes as she felt around for her glasses, still holding the bottle in her mouth as she did so. She felt something vaguely ocular, and shoved them onto her snout, filtering her world down to barely visible darkness.

The thumping continued, and the mare groaned around the bottle, using her magic to displace it from her mouth for a moment.

“BE RIGHT THERE!” She shouted, a heavy layer of irritation on her voice as the thumping joined forces with her own hangover to deliver driving beats that were anything but pleasurable. She put the bottle back in her mouth, and stood up, tilting her head back as she shotgunned the drink.

She finished it with a small *pop*, and almost carelessly tossed it onto her coffee table where more of it’s ilk lay. She staggered towards her apartment’s front door, and snorting back a nostril of snot, used the peep-hole to see who was coming for her at the ungodly hour of... seven thirty in the Celestia-damned morning.

What she saw was an incredibly fish-eye-lens’d view of the hallway outside her apartment, which was mostly filled by a charcoal pegasus sporting a teal mane and a black jacket. She had a folder tucked under one wing, and while her expression was fairly disinterested, her body had the kind of build that came with frequent physical activity.

Oh, buck me, the landlord actually called in a collection agent. Vinyl began to panic, and quickly ran a hoof through her hair, trying to smooth it out at the same time as she kicked and shoved as much rubbish as she could out of view from the doorway.

She took a deep breath, fixed a (hopefully winning) smile on her face, and like white lightning, undid the deadbolt, popped the chain off and pulled her front door open to confront somepony she didn’t really want to see right now.

The mare’s hoof hovered in the air for a moment as the door was suddenly replaced with the white mare’s face and her own reflection in the purple lens of the sunglasses that the mare was wearing. She lowered her hoof carefully, and nodded to her.

“Good morning, sunshine,” she said brightly. “Vinyl Scratch? 62 Stonewall Road, apartment twelve, East Canterlot?”

“That’s totally me,” Vinyl nodded. “And I totally have the rent, it’s just... uh, locked up in bank transfers right now, gonna take a couple of days, yeah?”

The mare raised an eyebrow. “That’s nice. I don’t care.” She reached into her jacket, and pulled out a small credentials wallet, which flopped open to reveal a ornate, blue-steel shield with a picture of the moon engraved across the centre, and a serial number stamped along the bottom.

Night Guard.

“Oh, buck,” Vinyl swore. “I swear to Celestia, it wasn’t me! Whatever it was, I totally didn’t do it, ask anypony! It’s not mine! I was holding it for a friend! I’ve been set up!”

The mare sighed. “I don’t know what you did last night, and I don’t care. What’s important is that we have business, you and I.”

Vinyl froze. “What... kind of business?” She narrowed her eyes. “I didn’t like, call you a fat pig, did I?”

The mare’s eyebrow twitched. “No. If you did, you’d be missing some teeth right now. I just have two words for you.”

“And they would be...?” Vinyl braced herself to duck under or tank a punch, as the mare opened her mouth, and paused mid-word.

“Wait, damnit,” the mare cursed, quickly fishing out the folder and opening it. “It was right on the tip of my tongue... ah. Two words,” she recited. “Treble Bombard.”

Vinyl froze, and went stiff. The mare bobbed her head about, and made a small noise as Vinyl didn’t follow. Then, with a rasp of carpet, Vinyl abruptly turned on her hoof, and awkwardly walked back into her apartment as if a puppet on strings. The mare closed her folder, and tucked it inside her jacket as she followed.

There was some banging and crashing, and eventually Vinyl emerged from her apartment, a shovel over her shoulder, slightly oblivious to the world as she marched out of her apartment and down the hallway. The dark mare followed, a second shovel under her wing as she pulled the apartment door shut behind her with her tail.

Shovels. She groaned. It wasn’t even inside Canterlot City limits.

♦   ☼   ♦

The sizzle of the skillet on the stove filled the air as Applejack stumped her way down the stairs, yawning and rubbing her eyes in the dawn light. A light tune whistled through the air as the whistler picked up a plate with the slightest of clatters, and the sizzling stopped with a slithering sound. The whistling became hum backing a wet farting sound as a plastic squeezy bottle was squeezed, and Applejack entered the kitchen to an aroma of pancakes, butter and maple syrup.

At the nexus of the aroma was the pile of pancakes on a plate, gently drizzled with syrup and partially melted butter, and stacked generously high.

“Good morning, Applejack,” Celestia said, not taking her one good eye off the skillet as she poured more batter into the pan.

“Mornin’ Princess,” Applejack yawned, looking at the pancakes and still not quite comprehending. “What’s with th’ pancakes?”

“Breakfast,” Celestia said, putting the skillet down with her magic and causing it to sizzle as it touched down on the stove. “The meal of champions, and all. I hope you don’t mind, I helped myself to the ingredients needed.”

“No, no,’s okay,” Applejack reassured, stumping into the chair, and sitting down, causing the pancake stack to become level with the top of her nose, sitting up straight. “Thank you, Princess.”

“Please, call me Celestia,” Celestia said, turning around and smiling. “Or Celly, if that’s easier. Would you like some juice?”

“That’d be great, thanks,” Applejack said, waking up a little as she realized a little thought and effort was going to have to go into demolishing the pancake tower. “Uh, Princ- Celly, don’t wanna be rude or nothin’, but, uh,” Applejack leaned to the side so she could look the cycloptic unicorn in the face. “I think y’all might have overestimated my appetite.”

“Sorry,” Celestia said, “I got a little carried away with the pancakes, it’s been a while. If you can’t finish them...”

“No, no,” Applejack reassured, picking up a knife and fork. “I’ll, uh, manage. Somehow.” She looked at the stack. “Are you sure these are all for me? What about Mac and Granny, shouldn’t we save some for them, too?”

“Already served theirs,” Celestia said. “Breakfast in bed is a treat, and I would have delivered some to you, but you were already up. It’s the least I could do after...” Celestia waved a spatula. “Well, for all the things you’ve done for me over the last day. Like washing my shirt, I hadn’t thought of that.”

Applejack looked to the right, mouth full of pancake, and saw Celestia’s vest and tunic draped over the back of the chair. She looked back at Celestia, who had gone back to cooking pancakes, tongue poking out of her mouth as she carefully jiggled the skillet, and with a flick of telekinesis, threw a pancake upwards, turning a perfect half-circle, and... landing half-in the skillet, splattering somewhat, the semisolid material sizzling as it landed on the skillet and element alike.

“Ponyfeathers,” Celestia swore to herself, tossing the mangled pancake into the scraps bin. Applejack’s eyes widened when she saw that the bin was now mostly comprised of pancake.

“And just how long have y’all been doing this?” Applejack asked, swallowing.

“Since before sunup,” Celestia said, carefully pouring more batter into the pan.

Applejack opened her mouth to say something about the pancake tossing, when she noticed the intense look on Celestia’s face, and realized what she was doing. She wasn’t practicing making pancakes, she was practicing her hoof-eye coordination now that she only had one eye. Applejack considered the discards, her stack and what were probably slightly downscaled stacks for Granny and Big Mac. There was probably more to it than that, too. She filled her mouth with pancake while she considered it, and made a sizable dent in the pancake stack, Celestia periodically adding fresh pancakes to a fresh platter or the scrap pile, before she spoke again.

“What’s eating you, Celly? Why’d you really get up so early?”

“The sun,” Celestia said. “I... wanted to make sure it rose.” She turned around. “I’m not controlling it anymore. For the first time in over two thousand years, I can’t feel the sun. And Luna’s... she’s not controlling it.” Celestia looked out the window. “Tinkertoy’s controlling the sun, somehow, making sure it runs its proper course. Not sure how I feel about that.”

Applejack stabbed her fork back into the pancakes, and pondered a moment, mid-fork. She wasn’t sure how to respond, either. Celestia sighed, and sat down in her own chair with her own stack of pancakes, just as large as Applejack’s. She rubbed her face with a hoof, and with a snap of elastic, popped her medical eyepatch off. Applejack slowly put a hunk of pancake into her mouth, and tried to not stare, but stare she did.

Celestia’s bad eye was a stark contrast to her good. A still-red scar cut a slightly jagged path across the side of her head, and her eye was a mess of white scar tissue running across cloudy purple iris. Applejack swallowed as the eye darted about as any real eye would, matching Celestia’s good eye, but seeing nothing.

“Sorry if this disturbs you,” Celestia apologized. “It’s the strap, it digs in.”

“It’s fine,” Applejack reassured. “It doesn’t bother me or nothin’. Nope.”

Celestia closed the bad eye, and smiled at Applejack knowingly, before digging into her own pancakes. Applejack, for her part, put in one last push of superequine effort, and finished her own, sitting back in her chair tiredly.

“Applejack,” Celestia said, breaking the silence. “I have something I want to ask you, if you have the time.”

“Shoot,” Applejack invited.

“It’s a very sharp question,” Celestia clarified.

Applejack fell silent, biting her lip, then looked at the ceiling, and nodded.

“I’ll give you a few minutes to finish those pancakes,” she said. “Then we should go take a walk around the orchard, settle our stomachs.”

♦   ☼   ♦

Birds were starting to chirp in earnest as Celestia and Applejack walked a slow pace between the trees, both mares slightly bloated from breakfast. Applejack led the way, towards a particular tree that had twisted and gnarled branches, one of which was a glossy red and very new addition.

She reached up and pulled it out of the tree where she’d hidden it, and Celestia eyed it curiously. She looked at Applejack.

“May I?” she asked.

“Go ahead,” Applejack said, holding out the blade.

Celestia tried to take it with her magic, and nothing happened. She couldn’t even get a grip on it. She reached out with hooves, trying to hold it like Applejack had, and found it completely unwilling to even pretend it could stick to her hooves. Celestia gave up, and sat down, gesturing to Applejack, who seemed just as surprised, and displayed no difficulty in gripping the blade and drawing it. She saw her own freckled face reflected in the side of the blade, the immaculately and perpetually polished steel reflecting just as good as a mirror.

Celestia, for her part, paid attention to the detail work – or rather, lack thereof. Aside from the laquered redwood sheath and handle, and a band of gold around the base of the hilt, it appeared to be an ordinary blade, a tool and nothing more with its utilitarian aesthetic.

The fact that only Applejack could pick it up and wield it properly, as well as an edge that probably hadn’t been sharpened for a few decades – certainly not since yesterday when it had been used to cut through plate steel twice – and still remained razor sharp. It wasn’t just any old steel sword.

“How does a member of the Apple family acquire genuine Neighponese steel?” Celestia asked quietly. “I have not seen such craftsponyship for centuries, this is truly a treasure no matter how you look at it.”

“‘s a long story,” Applejack said. “I’ll give y’ the cliff notes version. My mom, Sour Grapes, wasn’t born in Equestria,” Applejack explained. “She came from Neighpon, some well-to-do family or somethin’, I never asked and she didn’t like bringin’ it up. But what she did bring up was this,” Applejack said, raising the blade as she resheathed it with a snick. “When I was real little, she showed this to me, along with another one just like it, and a big ol’ scroll. Said that one day, she’d tell me everythin’, but until then, I wasn’t to tell nopony about the swords or the scroll, to pretend they never existed. So I did, and I forgot about it.

“Until the day she and dad left,” Applejack went on, hiding the sword back in the tree. “Middle of the night. No warning, only pony they told was Granny Smith, and she was right sore about it, I figger. Mom and Dad vanished overnight, caused a real stir.” Applejack took her hat off. “We waited f’ weeks. Months. They never came back,” Applejack said. “We had a bit of a rough spot, an’ I spent some time in Manehatten with the Oranges. Got right fancy, didn’t like it, came home, I’m sure y’all are familiar with the story.”

“I am,” Celestia confirmed.

“Anyway, came home t’ where I should be, and things started gettin’ back to normal, ‘cept this time with me and Mac at the helm. We sorted out our parents’ affairs with Granny’s help, and moved on. And I was movin’ some stuff around in the attic when I found the hidden compartment,” Applejack went on. “Got it open, and inside was the sword, and the scroll. Don’t know what happened to the other one. Tried havin’ a read of the scroll, but it’s all written in that Neighponese script, so didn’t have much luck. It had pictures though, and I reckon I spent like a whole week just tryin’ to copy those pictures. Standin’ on my hind hooves and holdin’ the sword without falling over was hard, but I felt like it was worth it, and all. I kept readin’, and kept copyin’ the pictures. Worked out some of them was ways to swing the sword, gave it a shot.

“All told, spent a lotta spare time readin’ that scroll in secret,” Applejack summed up. “Just outta curiosity, y’know? Wonderin’ what my Mom had to do with this. But it got old, just looking at the same thing over and over. Eventually, I stopped lookin’ at it, and eventually forgot about it. And then, yesterday happened.” Applejack rubbed her head. “I mean, don’t judge me too harsh, Celestia, but... it felt real easy. Almost as easy as buckin’ apples,” Applejack added.

Celestia nodded. “I will not judge, Applejack. You did what you had to do, and you did it using the most efficient tools and techniques I think you had access to, given the circumstances. And in the end,” Celestia added, “No harm was done.”

Applejack’s snout wrinkled as she processed that and thought up her next question. “So what’s the deal with the sword?” Applejack asked, starting to walk back through the orchard. “Y’all called it ‘Neighponese steel’ like that meant somethin’.”

“In the entire world,” Celestia said, “I’ve never seen swords quite like anything made by the ponies of Neighpon, across the ocean. It was a long time ago when they were commonplace, and even then, it was a secret art. Blades were hard to come by, even when they were most plentiful, and inherited by blood. And they were worth every bit you spent, every ounce of clout you threw to get one, because there are blades,” Celestia said, holding a hoof to the left, “And blades,” Celestia added, holding her hoof out to the right.

“So, it’s a real good sword?” Applejack asked.

“It’s not just a good sword,” Celestia said, “It’s an incredibly rare one – The art of swordcrafting passed on with Mon’Suzu over five centuries ago, when he couldn’t find a worthy successor to his art. Since then, many have tried to replicate the art, and precious few have produced anything close.” Celestia nodded to Applejack. “You are the proud owner of a piece of Neighpon’s history, Applejack.”

“Y’all sound rather informed,” Applejack hazarded.

“I always keep an eye on weapons development in the world,” Celestia said. “Or I did, anyway. The blades are inherited by bloodline, and most have been wiped out or broken with a lack of daughters. Your mother inherited that blade from somepony, the first daughter of the original owner, and it has passed to you, the first daughter of Sour Grapes.” Celestia nodded. “It is a powerful legacy that you hold, perhaps the last functional blade in the world.”

Applejack grimaced. “So you’re saying that I have to use it?”

“Not at all,” Celestia backtracked. “And I mean that. You don’t have to. I’m just filling in the blanks where your mother undoubtedly would have, had she had the chance. You can tell others about it, or keep it a secret. Pass it on to your daughter, if you have one, or bury it and let history become history.” Celestia paused in her pace. “To be honest, the fact that you have it is heartening.”

“Why?” Applejack asked.

“Because that means there is a Plan C,” Celestia said. “Those blades have a way of falling into the hooves of ponies who seek to bring about change. Perhaps not you, perhaps not your daughter. But if all else should fail... there remains hope for the future.”

Applejack fell silent as they drew near the edge of the orchard, just in time to see Rarity and Pinkie Pie approaching the Apple farmhouse, saddlebags upon their backs. The two spotted them emerging from the edges of the orchard and changed course to meet them halfway.

“Good morning, you two!” Pinkie chirped. “Whatcha doing in the orchard this early?”

“We, uh,” Applejack, caught off-guard by the question, rushed for an answer.

“Walking off breakfast,” Celestia said calmly. “I may have overdone it with the pancakes.”

“You shoulda called me!” Pinkie pouted.

“I’ll remember that,” Applejack said. “Turnabout is fair play an’ all – what’re y’all doing out here so early?”

“Well,” Pinkie said, “I thought I would bring the Princess a little parting gift!”

“And I, too, wanted to give something to the Princess for her journey,” Rarity added.

“You don’t need to-” Celestia began, before sighing, and waving a hoof. “Never mind. I would be honored to accept any gifts you had for me.”

“Excellent,” Pinkie grinned, reaching into her bag and pulling out a flat, brown-paper-wrapped parcel. “Some baked goods in case you get the munchies on your trip, some deer trail ration wafer stuff. Apparently one bite is enough to fill the belly of a grown mare!” Pinkie leaned in close. “But they’re pretty delicious, so you might want a second or a third bite anyway.”

“Thank you,” Celestia said, taking the package. “I will confess that this causes a problem, however. I have no way of carrying it.”

“Ah, then that would be my cue,” Rarity said. “I couldn’t remember if Applejack had any spare saddlebags you might possibly borrow, so I made you some just in case.” She pulled the articles in question out of her own bags; they were identical, except for the clasp, which was an embroidered sun rather than Rarity’s trio of diamonds.

“Good call,” Applejack said. “I don’t think we’d have any that’d fit Celestia, to be honest.”

“A stroke of luck,” Celestia said, putting the saddle bags on and putting Pinkie’s wafer food inside.

“And, ah,” Rarity looked at the ground and kicked a hoof. “I know you said you didn’t want anypony attacking Tinkertoy or anything like that, but... would you be agreeable to having a travel companion?”

“Rare,” Applejack said, surprised. “Y’all wanna go south with Celestia?”

“I do believe that is where our journey would take us, yes,” Rarity said.

“All the way south?” Applejack asked. “Travellin’ clean outside of Equestria, by hoof, across the most inhospitable place in Equestria?”

“Applejack, please stop pressing me on this, or I shall lose my nerve,” Rarity said tersely.

“If you are truly prepared for anything,” Celestia said, “Then yes, I would be glad to have company. On one condition.”

“Name it,” Rarity declared. “You will find me capable.”

“At the first sign of trouble, you run,” Celestia said levelly. “You don’t stay and fight, you run. You make sure you live.”

“But-”

“Enough ponies have died on my behalf,” Celestia said. “And I won’t have anypony else do so. Especially none of the Elements of Harmony,” Celestia added.

Rarity’s mouth hung open as she tried to think of a counterargument, and closed as she gave up, nodding.

“Very well,” Rarity said. “I shall do as you say and run at the first sign of trouble.”

“We need as many pieces on the board as possible,” Celestia said. “And at the end of the day, I’m just one piece. Nopony ever won a chess game with just one piece.”

“Speaking of one piece,” Pinkie said, leaning in. “I have something else for you, Princess!” She reached back into her bags, and pulled out a second wrapped parcel. “Another brick of deer wafers!” Pinkie declared with a smile, winking. “In case you happen to be travelling with a friend and want to share.”

“How did you-” Applejack looked from Pinkie to Rarity. “Did you two plan this?”

“Nope!” Pinkie said, flashing Applejack a smile. “I had a feeling that somepony was going to try and tag along with the Princess! So I did what I could.” Pinkie jabbed a hoof at Applejack. “I’ll be honest, though, I figured it was going to be you. Or RD. Probably both.”

“I still think that counts as exceptionally close,” Rarity voted. “Thanks, Pinkie.”

“Don’t mention it!” Pinkie said. “Wait, I have something else!”

“Is it another brick of wafers?” Applejack asked, looking around. “Is RD about to join us and demand to go along as well?”

“Nope!” Pinkie pulled out the third gift, and everypony just stared at the long black strap that hung from her hoof, a semicircular piece of black fabric in the middle of the elastic band.

“An eyepatch,” Celestia observed.

“I stopped off at one of my stashes,” Pinkie explained, tossing it to Celestia. “I figured this was an eyepatch emergency, even though you sort of already had one.”

Celestia caught it with her magic, and after a moment’s pause, replaced her medical one, tucking the old eyepatch into her bag and scrunching up her face.

“It’s very comfortable,” she concluded.

“And most importantly, it’s striking,” Pinkie added. “Granny Pie always told me, it’s all about how you enter that cage; look weak, get beat. Look like you don’t give a shit, they’ll submit.”

Applejack blinked. “And where in the hay did she get that from?”

Rarity’s eyes went skyward as she started counting silently. “That was only... 19 years ago? Granny Pie would have been, uh, sixty three?”

“Like I said,” Pinkie said, joining the conclusion back to it’s root. “All about how you walk into that cage.”

“Good advice,” Celestia said, “Although a little unconventional, and frankly alarming in how it was crafted.”

“Anyway,” Pinkie said. “I’ve given you all I can, Princess, and I think you have assembled your party. It’s time to venture forth!”

Celestia nodded. “Good idea. The sooner we’re out of town, the better. Rarity, did you have anything you needed to do before we leave?”

Rarity shook her head. “No. That’s what I was doing last night; my parents will take care of the Boutique and any other affairs I forgot about while I’m away.”

“Then, let’s go,” Celestia declared. “We have a way to travel.”

The two white unicorns turned, and started walking. Pinkie stood next to Applejack, waving a white handkerchief until the pair cleared the gate, at which point, they broke into a brisk canter and vanished around the corner of the orchard.

“I feel like we’re missin’ something,” Applejack said.

“Hmm, yeah,” Pinkie nodded. “No audio backing.”

“No,” Applejack said, waving a hoof. “It’s a gut feelin’, something’s not right.”

“It could just be all the pancakes,” Pinkie grinned, poking Applejack in the side. “You pudgy pony.”

Applejack looked at Pinkie. “Are you takin’ any of this seriously?”

“Nope!” Pinkie said brightly. “No seriousness before noon. What kind of pony do you take me for? An investment banker?” Pinkie checked her fetlock, which had a watch pencilled in on it. “Oh, shoot. I’m late, I have a delivery to make. I’ll catch you later, AJ!” Pinkie grinned as she started running for the gate as well. “Or will I?”

Applejack sighed, and looked up at the sun.

“Good luck, Celestia,” she muttered.

♦   ☼   ♦

Vinyl blinked in the morning sun, head throbbing unpleasantly, the remnants of her hangover lingering and teaming up with forces unknowably malicious to create some sort of super-hangover. She felt sweaty and warm, and her horn was aching like she’d been doing a buckload of spellcasting. Which was funny, because she was still standing in her apartment doorway, right?

She looked at the ground before her, and her heart skipped a beat. Before her was a long, deep hole in the ground, a huge pile of freshly dug dirt next to it. She looked around, and saw that they were on the plains at the foot of Canterlot Mountain itself, no sign of anypony around for miles. She looked at her hooves, and saw the shovel resting there.

“You done, there?”

She spun around and saw that charcoal mare from before leaning against a large cart, her own shovel standing point-first in the ground, the handle end of which was currently serving as a coathanger for the mare’s jacket. She looked almost as exhausted as Vinyl felt, although that could have been due to heat.

Vinyl sank to her knees, clasping her forehooves together. “Look, I told you, I’m sorry for whatever it was I did! Just let me go, please, don’t kill me and bury me out here in this shallow grave! I don’t know you! I didn’t steal it!”

“Whoa, whoa,” the mare held up a hoof. “Slow down, sunshine. Nopony’s getting buried in a shallow grave today.” She paused. “Probably. The day’s still young yet.”

“Then what’s this?!” Vinyl gestured wildly at the hole. “Where are we?” She waved at the remote surroundings. “Why am I here?”

“You don’t remember?” The mare asked.

“Remember what?” Vinyl asked.

“This,” the mare said, leaning into the cart and with a grunt, lifting something up. Vinyl saw the end of a long metal chest, still grimy with dirt, and the mare dropped it, turning back to the DJ. “We’re not here to bury something,” the mare said. “We were here to dig something up. Something that only you knew was buried here.”

“What is it?” Vinyl asked, puzzled. “What’s in it? And who are you?”

“Well, it looks like some sort of metal chest,” the mare said, “and what’s in it, I don’t know. I haven’t looked, it’s your chest, after all. And who am I?” The mare reached into her jacket pocket, and fished out the badge again. “Sergeant Ridgeback. Night Guard. I’m your handler.”

“Why do I need a handler?” Vinyl asked, wary.

“Because you’re part of one of Princess Luna’s contingency plans, something called Project Hydra,” Ridgeback said. “Hay, even I didn’t know I was until my handler told me the trigger word. I believe the word is “sleeper agents”.”

“Why- how?” Vinyl sat down, stunned.

“How? Hypnosis and inception, I’d guess,” Ridgeback said. “You made a deal with the Princess some time ago. She did something for you, and in return,” Ridgeback jabbed a hooftip at Vinyl, “you agreed to be part of Project Hydra.”

“What did she do for me?” Vinyl asked.

Ridgeback just shrugged. “I don’t know. That was between you and her, just like it is for everypony else in Hydra.”

“I can’t remember,” Vinyl said, shaking her head.

“Well, you’re going to have to learn to suck it up pretty quick, then,” Ridgeback said simply. “Long story short, you’re now an agent of the crown. And since we’re having this conversation, the worst has come to pass, and all the Princesses are dead or gone.”

Vinyl choked. “Did you just say... all the Princesses are dead?”

“Or otherwise absent,” Ridgeback said. “In the event that none of them are present to sit the throne, we have two objectives. One, we do everything we can to get at least one of them back.”

“And what if they’re dead?” Vinyl asked. “Or we can’t get them back?”

“Then we work on objective two,” Ridgeback said, “Which is to raise as much hell as we can until the princesses come back, or we die.”

“How in Eqqus are we supposed to do that?” Vinyl asked, dumbstruck. “What sort of bucked up mission is this?”

“I figure that we’re not actually the guts of the plan,” Ridgeback said. “We’re just a diversion for somepony else to actually save the day. Saving the world is a team play, after all. We just have to trust in whoever’s calling the shots.”

“You don’t know?” Vinyl asked, astonished.

“Hey,” Ridgeback shrugged. “There’s only two other ponies I know to be in Project Hydra. You, and my handler. It’s a cell-based thing. That way, if one of us messes up... we don’t take anyone else with us. At least, that’s my reckoning.” Ridgeback rubbed the back of her head. “For all I know, we could be the only cell. Hard to say.”

“So, what,” Vinyl sighed. “What am I supposed to do, then? I’m not a guardspony. Never have been. Luna just wants me to be distracting? What am I supposed to do, play loud music in the wee hours?”

“Ah,” Ridgeback said hesitantly. “Could be on the cards. We don’t know. All my orders so far were to find you, and help you retrieve your chest. Which I’ve done.” Ridgeback looked up at the mountain. “Hell of a walk, I thought you’d have it in a safe deposit box or some junk.”

“If it’s any consolation, I wouldn’t have buried it out here,” Vinyl muttered.

“And that’s exactly why it’s buried here, I guess,” Ridgeback guessed. “So you wouldn’t find it before your time.”

Vinyl took her shades off, and eyes watering in unfiltered sun, kneaded them gently. “This shit is confusing.”

“Yeah, you get used to it,” Ridgeback nodded. “All part of being in the Night Guard. You don’t know how it works, but it does. All you have to do is follow orders and have faith in whoever’s calling the shots.” Ridgeback picked up her shovel and tossed it into the back of the cart. “Now, mind if you hook yourself up to this? Pulling it up the mountain’s gonna be a hell of a two-pony job.”

Vinyl groaned and grudgingly obliged, throwing her shovel into the cart as well and stepping into the harness slowly.

“My head hurts,” she complained. “I need a drink.”

“Suck it up and join the club,” Ridgeback said. “Lucky for you, my place is closer than yours. There’ll be a cold drink waiting for both of us.”

Vinyl perked up a little. “Oh yeah?”

“Not that kind of cold drink,” Ridgeback said, strapping herself in. “We’re on the clock. Now start pulling.”

With a creak, the two mares began pulling the cart, and it clacked and rattled as it rode over bumps in the ground, headed for the road up the mountain, leaving behind a shallow hole in the ground.

♦   ☼   ♦

Half a country away, another pegasus was strapping herself into something; her saddlebags. Rainbow Dash looked around her cloudhouse, sucking her cheek as she tried to think of anything else she needed for the journey she had ahead of her.

Celestia, bless her soul, was old. And misguided. The Gryphon King would help, right? Of course he would, why would Celestia think otherwise? Even if he couldn’t, it’d still be a smarter choice than begging Chrysalis for help! Rainbow’s jaw tightened as she thought of that doppelganger Queen.

She had almost ruined Equestria, and now Celestia was going to grovel to that... that... witch for help?

Rainbow shook her head. She was going to bring the real help home, and hopefully the changelings wouldn’t be needed. Then Celestia could cancel whatever deal she’d made, right? And if the changelings didn’t like it... she was sure the gryphons wouldn’t have much trouble dealing with her and hers.

She stepped towards her front door, when she felt her personal space about to be violated; she stopped, just in time to see Pinkie Pie shoot up through the floor in a puff of cloud. Rainbow moved fast, and quickly caught her, going into a hover to carry the wingless earth pony.

“Pinkie!” Rainbow exclaimed, exasperated. “What in the hay-”

“Trampoline!” Pinkie said, grinning. “Dashie-”

“No, no,” Rainbow said, shaking her head. “I can’t hang out, I’ve got to g- I mean, I- uh,” Rainbow slowed down, trying to think of an excuse. “I have to, uh, water my goldfish in Cloudsdale?”

“Nice try, Dashie,” Pinkie said. “Five out of ten for that excuse. Not good enough to beat me, though.” Pinkie grabbed Rainbow’s shoulders. “Not here to stop you, either. I actually have something for you. Can you set me down anywhere?”

Rainbow looked around. Her cloudhome was, as the name implied, mostly cloud. Most of her furniture and open-plan lounge area was cloud, too. About the only non-cloud things in the immediate area were the kitchen cupboards and benches, because as any pegasus living on their own worked out, getting individual foodstuffs enchanted for resting on clouds was expensive and time consuming.

“Yeah, hang on,” Rainbow said, flying over to the bench, and with a hindleg, gently sweeping assorted sandwich-making paraphernalia aside to clear space for her to set her friend down, which she did. Pinkie carefully got up, and smiled at Rainbow, who frowned back.

“Alright, so what is it? I have to go soon.” Rainbow asked, before backtracking. “In fact, what do you actually think I’m going to do?”

“Well,” Pinkie said, “It’s pretty obvious you’re gearing up to either go with Celestia...” –Pinkie noted the brief expression of disgust that flashed across Rainbow’s face– “...But since you seem to have a crazy hatred for Changelings, I’m guessing you’re actually going to do what you wanted to do last night, and go to the Gryphons, despite Celestia saying there was no point.”

“Darn right,” Rainbow said.

“Well, long way to the Gryphon Kingdoms,” Pinkie said airily, looking at her hoof nonchalantly. “What are you doing for food?”

“Uh,” Rainbow blinked. “I had some sandwiches packed... and I was gonna graze until I needed them?”

Pinkie tsk’d sharply, holding out a hoof. “Lemme see ‘em, Dashie.”

Rainbow blushed, and sheepishly obliged like a child caught out by a parent, passing the clingfilm-wrapped objects over. Pinkie opened up one of them, and inspected the contents.

“Tomato sandwich,” she said. “By the time you get around to eating it over the Eastern Equestriatic, It’s gonna be a soggy mess. That ain’t gonna keep, Dashie. Tell me you didn’t make them all tomato?” she asked, looking at the counter she was standing on and noting the tomato-stained cutting board.

“I, uh,” Rainbow rubbed the back of her head. “I did. I like tomato, is there anything wrong with that?”

Pinkie dropped down to Rainbow’s head-level, reclining on her side and elbow, resting her other hoof on Rainbow’s shoulder gently.

“Dashie, you didn’t think this through very well, did you?”

Rainbow looked down. “No.”

“Well, don’t sweat it,” Pinkie said, picking up another sandwich, and after a cursory inspection, throwing it behind her and through the kitchen wall, to fall to the ground far below outside. “Because Auntie Pinkie has you all covered.”

Rainbow looked up, and saw Pinkie holding a wrapped parcel out to her. Rainbow took it, feeling the heft of the package.

“Deer wafers!” Pinkie said. “Essential food for any traveller! They’ll keep for, like, forever, and they’re mighty tasty.” Pinkie tapped the top of the package. “There’s two blocks in there, the bigger one is yours.”

“Then what’s the other one for?” Rainbow asked, packing them away.

“Whoever’s going with you, that’s who,” Pinkie said.

“I-” Rainbow blinked. “How did you know that?”

Pinkie just tapped the side of her snout. “Trade secret, Dashie.” Pinkie hopped up onto two hooves, striking a pose, backed by the light shining in through a kitchen cloud-window as she put an oversized set of angular orange shades on her eyes, glare obscuring her eyes from view. “I’ve done all I can for you! Now go, the fate of Equestria may or may not rest in your hooves!”

Pinkie threw a serious salute, and Rainbow responded on reflex, before Pinkie threw herself backwards into a dive, arms outstretched as she flew backwards in a graceful swan dive. Rainbow’s eyes grew wide, and she threw herself out the window in pursuit.

What she heard was a loud whump, and what she saw was a pink shape bouncing up and down on a wildly gyrating bouncy castle, looking back up at her.

“How was that for a dramatic start to your quest?!” Pinkie shouted. “Don’t waste it, go! Try to weep as if I was holding the line against impossible odds and have the tears glisten in the sun as they fall, that’ll look really good!”

Rainbow smiled, shook her head slowly, and began to beat her wings harder, sending her through the still-slightly-frosty morning air, the sun warming her coat and the wind in her mane, feeling the weight of the deer wafer in her bag, more assuring than any weight in tomato sandwiches, as she thought out her travel plans.

She was headed for the Gryphon Kingdom, but first... first, she needed a wingpony.