Commander Hurricane walked through the open doors of the castle’s arcane storeroom. His eyes slid underneath his helmet from one side to the other, noting every irregularity in mind-boggling detail. At his flanks were the three legionaries who had found Diadem, Star Swirl the Bearded, and Diadem herself. Clover had already retired for the night, and Hurricane didn’t think it necessary to wake her.

“You say that nothing was taken?” Hurricane asked as he picked up a jar full of orange liquid in a hoof. Who the question was meant for was clear enough, and Diadem coughed nervously before shuffling to the front of the group.

“I double-checked everything while I was waiting for you and Star Swirl to show up, Commander,” Diadem answered. Taking a few light and nervous steps, she made her way to Hurricane’s side. “Nothing’s missing from the open shelves, and I checked all the locked doors. They weren’t opened recently.”

“All of them?” Hurricane asked, looking over his shoulder to the aqua filly.

Diadem fidgeted on her hooves. “Yeah… well, all the ones that a pony could really break into.”

“So you didn’t check my door,” Star Swirl observed.

“No, I mean—yeah,” Diadem admitted.

Humming to himself, Star Swirl pulled his usual pipe from his robes and settled it between his lips, immediately lighting it with a shower of sparks from his horn. One of the legionaries in the party shifted uncomfortably.

“Uh, Archmage? Are you sure that’s such a good idea in here?”

Star Swirl glanced at him over his shoulder, and an impish smile pulled at his lips. “Relax, soldier. I know what I’m doing, and I assure you, the most harm anything volatile in this room could do is violently detach your limbs.” Taking the pipe out of his mouth with his magic, he pointed with it towards a few jars of a powdery substance. “Now these here, the tiniest spark will set them off, and the bang is quite climactic.”

The three legionaries shuffled a few feet farther away and glanced nervously among themselves.

Diadem rolled her eyes. “Star Swirl…”

The old stallion chuckled and reinserted the pipe between his lips. “Don’t worry, lads. I’m a professional.”

Hurricane looked over his shoulder, entirely unfazed by what had transpired behind him. “Star Swirl, give me a hoof with this door.”

Tilting his hat to the recovering legionaries, Star Swirl cheerily trotted over to Hurricane. “Pardon me, Commander, you’re standing in front of the lock.”

Hurricane took a few steps to the side and gave Star Swirl room to work. With a sigh, the archmage snuffed his pipe and deposited it back in his robes before taking up position at the door. Widening his stance, the old mage bent his neck down until his long and scraggly white beard was nearly touching the floor. After a few seconds of focus, his horn sparked to life.

As if sensing his presence, a stone panel in the center of the door corkscrewed outwards. Excited, Diadem squeezed past the three soldiers in front of her to get a better look at the door. The stone offshoot was decorated in detailed carvings, etchings, and numbers that fluctuated in color between gold, silver, and white. It looked almost like some sort of fluid was swirling around within the stone canister.

“What is that?” Diadem asked, cocking her head to the side. “You guys’ve never shown me anything like that before.”

“That,” Star Swirl began as his horn began to summon mana, “is pure Arcana. Or, to be more specific, my own Arcana.”

Hurricane noted the swirling and shifting lights with a restrained interest. “I won’t pretend to know much about unicorn magic, Archmage. Why do you have your own Arcana in there?”

Nudging his horn against the edge of the stone cylinder, a small hole opened up, just wide enough to fit a unicorn’s horn. Without a second thought, Star Swirl inserted his and immediately began to concentrate. As he did so, the color of the Arcana flickered and pulsed.

“The Arcana more or less serves as a lock,” the archmage explained. “It is my own, derived from my mana, and as such only my horn functions as the key. The funny thing about Arcana is that it only responds to its creator; that is to say, another unicorn could not manipulate what is in this lock as I can. In fact, it would be quite painful for them to do so.”

Hurricane raised an eyebrow. “It would burn them?”

Star Swirl grunted instead of shaking his head, as his horn was still held in place. “Not quite. If another unicorn were to try and open this door, for example, they would first somehow have to get the keyhole to expose itself. Assuming they could do that, and they placed their horn within, they would immediately suffer acute mana-entanglement leyline feedback.”

The commander blinked.

“What he means is that you’d get a massive headache and you’d probably pass out,” Diadem explained. Rubbing her horn, she added, “I had a run-in with that when I was chasing the guy that was in here. He pressed down a huge amount of Arcana on my horn and completely choked out my leylines. With nowhere for my mana to go, it really kind of hurt, and I blacked out for like a second.” Pressing her hoof to her lips, she thought for a few moments. “Ooh! I know an easy way to explain it! Imagine that you’re constipated—”

“That’s enough,” Hurricane interrupted, holding a hoof up as emphasis. “Thank you, Diadem, I get the picture now.” To Star Swirl, he asked, “So you’re saying that these are impossible to break?”

“Well… not exactly,” Star Swirl admitted. Again the Arcana flickered and shifted in color, this time settling heavily on golden hues. “They can be brute forced, if the unicorn is strong enough to push through the leyline entanglement and create enough of a buffer of their own Arcana to partially fill the chamber and give them something to work with.”

“But this looks like it’s filled with your own,” Hurricane said.

“Yes, this is true. But Arcana is massless and, despite its outward appearance, incorporeal. It can take many forms, but it is most commonly found as pure energy, and energy can be condensed and stored. A theoretically infinite sum of Arcana can be crammed into a specialized vessel designed to hold it. This is what makes the weapon the old Diamond Guard used, Diamond Fyre, so terrifying.”

Hurricane recalled the old and abandoned armory underneath Castle Burning Hearth, where he had discovered a crate of seemingly harmless diamond cubes after Cyclone’s invasion of River Rock. “King Lapis told me twenty years ago that he had outlawed them. I’ve only ever heard rumors of what they can do.”

With a thud, something heavy inside the door clicked, and the Arcana in the stone canister turned white. Relaxing, Star Swirl pulled his horn free of the keyhole and stretched out his neck before responding to Hurricane. “A single three-inch cube of fortified diamond could hold enough Arcana to level a building. Thankfully, finding a perfect fortified diamond that you can cut to such a size is amazingly rare, and they don’t hold all their Arcana for more than a week. It’s a one-use thing, too, as the energy stored inside completely decimates the gem when it’s released. Couple that with the fact that a fortified diamond holds the most Arcana when it’s a virgin to charging, and you’ve got the basis for a weapon too inefficient to mass-produce.”

Pushing in on the extended stone canister, Star Swirl nodded to Hurricane. “What’s beyond this door is private, Commander. I trust you and Diadem enough to take a look, but send your soldiers elsewhere. We won’t be needing them there.”

Nodding, Hurricane glanced towards the three legionaries and pointed with a wing. The three of them saluted and turned around, careful not to bump into anything potentially dangerous lining the shelves on their way out.

When he was sure that they were gone, Star Swirl twisted his hoof to rotate the center of the door. With a series of heavy clacks and thuds, the door began to spiral in wider and wider rings until the entire circular doorframe seemed to be spinning. Then, with a volley of staccato clicks, each ring came to a stop, shedding dust from their cracks. Something heavy jolted out of place behind the door, and following the screeching of metal on metal, the entire room became silent again.

“Do mind yourselves while we are inside, my fellow ponies,” Star Swirl said, his Arcana spreading across the door’s surface. “There’s something inside that would agitate me to great extent were it to be broken.”

“I understand, Star Swirl,” Hurricane replied. “I’m more than a little interested myself as to what you’ve been hiding here these past five years that I’ve never heard about until now.”

Though his voice was calm, Diadem noticed Hurricane carefully unlatch the hilt of his legendary sword, the Gladius Procellarum, from its scabbard. His weight shifted to the tips of his hooves and his muscles tensed, ready to leap into combat if something were to attack him. If Star Swirl saw, he didn’t express any concern. Diadem, for the most part, was practically bouncing on the tips of her hooves to see what was past the door.

With a heavy groan, the thick stone door parted at the middle, revealing a dark and circular room. As Star Swirl crossed the threshold, several mana torches flickered to life along the walls, illuminating the simple stonework that defined the room’s circular boundaries. There were a few shelves on one side, built into an alcove in the walls, and a simple workstation near them. In the center of the room was a large, round table, trimmed with gold and holding an empty support on top of it.

Diadem forgot that she was a sensible filly of fifteen and squeezed between the two stallions like her ten year old self again. When inside, it was all she could do to not run laps around the ring in her excitement. Instead, she bounded over towards the nearest shelf and began looking over its contents with intense scrutiny.

“What sort of things are we looking for?” Hurricane asked. “What do you even keep here that’s so special?”

Star Swirl floated his hat onto a peg near the door, the bells on its brim making a slight ringing sound as they settled into place. “Rare magical components, dangerous elixirs, and other sorts of trinkets that I’ve taken a fondness to in my later years.” Glancing over to Diadem, his horn lit as he grabbed onto the filly’s tail with his magic and dragged her backwards. “Look, but do not touch.”

Diadem stuck out her lower lip and pouted. “I’m just trying to see the sorts of things you have here! Like this container of alicorn or these pickled dragon hearts…” Her face paled, and she worriedly turned to Star Swirl. “How did you get these?”

“An old colleague of mine gave them to me… what was it, fifty years ago?” He shook his head, struggling to remember. “His name was Wintershimmer the Complacent, although Wintershimmer the Ruthless or Wintershimmer the Morally Questionable would have suited him for titles just fine.”

“How bad?” Hurricane asked, taking his turn to investigate the otherwise outlawed magical ingredients.

Star Swirl tapped his chin to his hoof. “There was the one time around fifty-nine years ago when Wintershimmer tried to graft a horn onto some homeless earth pony who ‘just happened to be wandering the dungeons of the castle by his lonesome’. I won’t say that I don’t wake up in the middle of the night every now and then to the screaming. I was quite relieved when King Lapis stripped his titles and exiled him from the Diamond Kingdom.” Sighing, he walked over to the shelves and levitated the canister of alicorn closer to his face, inspecting it. “Still, there are some things that one doesn’t just throw away. Alicorn and wyrmling hearts are two of the most powerful spell ingredients in the world, if you’re looking to do a little necromancy.”

“Why would you ever want to do that?” Diadem asked from where she still sat on the ground. “Isn’t it illegal anyway?”

Star Swirl shook his head. “The raising of the dead is illegal, but not communing with them. The problem is that most ponies aren’t worth the cost of doing so.” He tapped the crushed alicorn with a hoof for emphasis before placing it back on the shelf.

Hurricane stepped away from the shelf and began to sift through the objects on Star Swirl’s workstation. “So what exactly is it that we’re looking for? You don’t have any of that Diamond Fyre in here that I should be concerned about?”

“No, no, they’re all accounted for,” he said, rattling a wooden crate with several clear diamonds in it. “All twelve of them.”

The commander stared at Star Swirl with as flat an expression as flat could be.

The unicorn for his part simply ignored Hurricane and moved to the table in the center. He rested a hoof on one of the legs of the support in the middle, which was obviously designed to cradle something. His horn lit up and danced over the support, twisting and turning it within the table until a compartment popped open underneath.

Diadem craned her neck towards the noise, but she couldn’t see what it was that Star Swirl had opened. Instead, all she saw was a greater and greater expression of worry settle across his face. Setting down a calcified bone that had probably belonged to a Crystal warlord at some point (and was probably another remnant of Wintershimmer’s days in River Rock), she trotted over to the elder mage. “What’s wrong? Is something missing?”

Star Swirl pursed his lips and nodded. “Yes, something is indeed missing, and what’s missing is what concerns me the most.”

Hurricane abandoned his search of the workstation and hurried over to Star Swirl. “What did he take?”

Sighing, the archmage levitated out a large wooden box with felt lining the cut out of what would have housed a large sphere. “He took Electrum’s Orb.”

Diadem took a step back, but Hurricane cocked his head. “Electrum was a king, wasn’t he? I don’t know anything else about him.”

Star Swirl nervously took his pipe out of his robes and began to draw on it. “Electrum was one of the great kings of the Diamond Kingdom, the last of the Wise Five. Not only was he a wise ruler and powerful mage, but he was cunning. He reigned during one of the most tumultuous times in unicorn history and thwarted a dozen different assassination attempts with nothing but his own skill.” Pacing, Star Swirl released a large plume of smoke into the air before facing Hurricane again. “Skill and magical trickery, that’s what. You know what the Scourge of Kings is? Lapis IV had it and Platinum II died from it not too long ago.”

Hurricane nodded. “It rots a unicorn’s horn until it’s completely destroyed and toxic. You’re saying this has something to do with Electrum?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Star Swirl affirmed. “The legend goes that Electrum brought the Scourge down on the noble family when he tried to look into the future to protect himself from these assassinations. His horn grew black and gnarled and he became so weak that in the end, it wasn’t an assassin’s dagger that killed him, but the common cold.”

Diadem rested an elbow on Star Swirl’s workstation and in turn placed her head in her hoof. “I bet that was a shock when Electrum saw his own death when he looked to the future.”

“And the Orb?” Hurricane prompted, examining the table. “What does that have to do with this?”

Star Swirl thought for a few moments, sucking on his pipe all the while. “Electrum fashioned his Orb years before he attempted to see into the future. It’s a crystal ball, made from the finest of diamonds. You need only look into it and whisper a name, and you will see that pony, wherever they may be, no matter what they’re doing. It’s how Electrum rooted out traitors in his own circle before they could have the chance to end him.”

“I see,” Hurricane muttered. The implications of so powerful an artifact being stolen were beyond measure. If his hunch was correct, and there were more to these riots than just simple anger… “How did you manage to get your hooves on it?”

“It was given to the Archmage of River Rock two hundred years ago by the royal family and simply forgotten about,” Star Swirl answered. “My predecessors passed it down to their apprentices when they became the new archmage, and by this method it eventually found its way into my hooves. I would have passed it on to Clover when she takes on the full duties of being Everfree’s chief archmage, but now I’m not sure if I can.”

“And Platinum doesn’t know about this?”

The mage shook his head. “My predecessors realized that keeping such power away from the hooves of the royal family would benefit the Diamond Kingdom in the long run. As such, it is imperative that Platinum never find out about this.” Realizing that he had burnt out the last of his tobacco, Star Swirl grumbled and tucked the pipe back in his robes. “And it is likewise important that we recover it from our thief, no matter the cost.”

Hurricane looked at the empty stand on the table for a few seconds longer. “Diadem,” he suddenly began, causing the filly to jerk away from Star Swirl’s shelves. “Do we have an idea where this thief could be heading?”

Diadem bit her lip. “Well, not really. I mean, when he escaped, he ran to the north, but I don’t have any idea where he could’ve gone in the meantime.”

The commander sighed and mulled it over for a few seconds. “I’ll have to track him myself then.”

The aqua filly cocked her head. “Yourself? Why not have some of your soldiers go track him down? I mean, you’ve got a ton of them.”

Hurricane shook his head. “An army moves too slowly and is too noticeable. This is a job for a hoofful of ponies, but if this unicorn could somehow break into Star Swirl’s locked room and brute force his way through the teleportation wards on the castle, then he’s way out of the league of ordinary legionaries.”

“But you’re just one pony!” Diadem protested.

A smirk pulled at the corners of Hurricane’s lips. “I’m still the single best soldier in the Legion, Diadem. That isn’t a generalization, that’s a fact. Plus,” he added, tapping his onyx armor, “no other legionary has magic resistant armor such as myself.”

“Very well,” Star Swirl said. “Take the box with you so nothing happens to the orb when it’s recovered. I’ll get some things together for you before you go.”

Hurricane raised a hoof. “You needn’t worry about that, Archmage. I’m more than capable of taking care of my own preparations.”

Star Swirl shook his head. “I insist. Besides, the sooner you’re off, the sooner the orb will be recovered. I find it hard to rest knowing that every second it’s getting further away from here. I’d rather not be remembered in the history books as the archmage that lost Electrum’s Orb.” He paused. “Or let it bring about our young nation’s destruction. That’s important too.”

Nodding, Hurricane took the box and tucked it under his wing. “I need to inform Typhoon and Twister about this. I’ll leave tomorrow morning and be back within the week. Orb or not, I can’t be away from Equestria for long if these riots keep up.”

“I wish you the best of luck, Hurricane,” Star Swirl said, clasping his hooves together. “May Celestis watch over your journeys and Lunis keep you safe at night. With their divine favor, perhaps you will be able to find our thief.”

Hurricane tilted his head. “If Celeste and Lūn are willing, then I’ll be home in three days,” he responded. “Then I can keep this place from falling apart.”

Taking one last look at Star Swirl’s storeroom and all the oddities it contained, Hurricane skirted around the archmage and disappeared down the hall. Star Swirl waited for him to leave before walking to Diadem and sitting down next to her, aged limbs popping and squeaking with arthritis.

“Ooof!” the mage grunted as he came to a rough stop on the hard floor. “It’s tough being old, Diadem, dear. Sun and Stars be damned if I have to use a walker to get around.”

Diadem giggled a little and looked at the table. Her eyes traced the contours of the empty stand for Electrum’s Orb, and she frowned. “Star Swirl?”

The stallion raised an eyebrow. “Hmm?”

Diadem rubbed a hoof behind her mane. “Did you ever use the Orb to spy on anypony?”

Star Swirl thought long and hard before answering. “There were times, yes, when I fed the Orb names and saw what it conjured. It never failed me, not once.”

The filly’s eyes widened. “Really? Who did you look up?”

Star Swirl chuckled and shook his head. “Platinum, her father, politicians, rivals, the list went on.” He stopped and sighed. “Those were my younger days. But I stopped when I became wiser. I had no right to intrude on the personal lives of other ponies; whatever their business was, it was not of my concern. I put the Orb aside before it could change who I was. I would rather live life as a happy, blind old stallion than a paranoid and shifty figure who watches everypony from the shadows.”

Standing up, Star Swirl nudged Diadem with a foreleg. “Come on, now. We should be going; I need to close this storeroom before we have any more thieves running amok through here. The Orb may have been the most important thing here, but there are plenty of other things I’d be rather worried about were they to leave these walls.”

Scrambling to her hooves, Diadem bounded along at Star Swirl’s side as they made towards the exit. “Will you ever let me back in here, Star Swirl? You’ve got so many neat things I’d love to take a look at sometime.”

The archmage chuckled. “Maybe one day, Diadem. When I die, this room will be Clover’s, and then someday I’m sure she will pass it on to you.” Turning around at the doorframe, his horn came to life and pulled the two halves back together. The stone cylinders ringing it all twisted and spiraled. Several heavy booms meant the locks had slid back into place, and Star Swirl sealed it with a final charge. Then, turning back to Diadem, he smiled and continued onwards. “In the meantime, we should get some rest. It is getting fairly late, after all, and I’ve got something fun for you to work on in the morning.”

Diadem’s eyes lit up. “Really? What is it?”

Star Swirl smiled. “Clover and I decided we’d transfer our void battery project to you. You’re right when you say that you’re capable of handling it better than we can. Now, this is a huge undertaking for an apprentice, but we’re both confident that you can learn something valuable from it.”

The filly was practically launching herself through the air. “Oooooh thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!” She blurted to Star Swirl. “Thank you so much! I promise I won’t let you guys down! Just you wait and see!” Hopping along with excitement, she left the storeroom and bounded down the halls towards her bedroom.

The old stallion watched her go, a smile on his face. “There’s greatness in you yet, little filly,” he murmured after her as her teal tail disappeared around the corner.

The lone legionary stalked his target in the dying light of the evening. He had been following him for days now, looking for the perfect opportunity to strike. It had been hard; he’d almost been caught a few times, and only the careful dodge behind nearby cover had hid him from his foe. Now, however, his target was tired, distracted, and tantalizingly within reach.

Checking his armor, the legionaries unlatched his gladius and began to prowl through the tall grass, careful not to make a sound. His centurion had told him that the griffons had senses sharp as knives, and they could pick up the smallest rustle of foliage or the tiniest squeak of skysteel from a mile away. The legionaries had fought griffons before, but that was when he had his entire centuria with him. Now, it was just the soldier and the griffon, alone in a field just south of Stratopolis.

When he was within ten feet of the griffon, he stopped. The griffon perked its head up as if it had just heard something, and the legionary felt his heart freeze as it glanced in his direction. He was almost sure that the beast had seen him, but his fears were soon assuaged when it grumbled incoherently and turned back to the scroll it held in its talons. There its attention stayed, and the soldier breathed a little easier.

Reaching for the handle of his sword, the legionary smoothly and silently drew the weapon. His bladed wings flexed with anticipation, and he took a hesitant step forward. When the griffon didn’t notice him, he took another. And another. And another.

He was barely five feet away now, and the griffon was well within his reach. Taking a deep breath, the legionary prepared himself for the grisly business to come next. As thunderheads rolled in from the west and began to rumble in the distance, he released his coiled muscles and leapt at the griffon with a fearsome war cry.

The impact was square and solid, and the beast let loose a cry of surprise as it fell over. Together the two of them tumbled across the ground, fighting to gain the upper hand. After rolling a few feet away, the legionary finally came out on top, and he pressed his sword against the griffon’s neck.

“Any last words, evil beast?” the legionary roared, his voice mighty and heroic. “Speak them before I cut off your head!”

The griffon’s eyes flared with anger before quickly turning to amusement. “Oh no, little pony,” it responded in surprisingly clear Cirran. “You’re the one who should be praying to your gods.”

With a sudden burst of strength, the griffon forced the legionary off of it and stood up. Growling, the soldier turned and swung his gladius at the griffon with all his might. Instead of it connecting, however, the blade passed within inches of the griffon’s exposed neck as it took a deft step backwards. Lunging forward, the griffon flipped the Cirran onto his back and stepped down on his chest. Try as he might, the soldier couldn’t escape, and his vain struggles only seemed to amuse the griffon.

Eyes wide and bloodshot from strangulation, the soldier could only watch in fear as the griffon drew its talons across his throat.

“That’s another dead legionary to the pile,” Twister commented as she stepped away from the colt she had pinned to the floor. Cracking her neck, the Cirran legatus returned to her chair and sorted through the scrolls on her desk.

Scrambling to his hooves, the colt, a light blue pegasus with a mane of brown, black, and white streaks, stuck his tongue out at her. “I almost had you! I wanted to give you a fair fight is all!”

Twister smiled and turned towards the colt. “A good legionary doesn’t waste time to gloat over their victories, Tempest. And you don’t try to take a griffon prisoner when you’re by yourself. They’ll overpower you every time.”

Frowning, Tempest scurried over to his wooden sword on stubby legs and picked it up. Feeling the handle of the toy weapon in his mouth, he gave it a few quick swings, nearly falling over in the process. Growling at a stuffed legionary in the corner of the room, he swung at it a few times, easily besting the soldier in combat. Turning back to Twister, he dropped the sword at his hooves and sat down on his haunches.

“I’m gonna be the best soldier in the Legion, Aunt Twister! Just wait! And I’m gonna protect everypony from the griffons and the barbarians and keep the Empire safe!” Smiling, Tempest flopped onto his back and let his short wings flitter against the carpet.

Twister, a middle-aged mare with a brown coat and fading black mane, watched Tempest with her sharp, gold eyes. “I’m sure you will, honey. I can’t wait to see what a fine soldier you’ll turn out to be.”

There was a knock on the door, and Twister set aside her scrolls and adjusted the legatus cloak she wore over her shoulder. “Come in,” she commanded in a crisp voice, one that she had learned from many years as Cirra’s primary diplomat. Pressing her forehooves together, she laid them bare on the desk in an acceptably professional fashion.

The door opened with a low squeak as Typhoon entered, her expression weary and her face covered with dust and grime. The gold trim on her armor was hidden under a layer of dirt, and her wings drooped with exhaustion. Closing the door behind her, she took off her helmet and hung it on a peg right inside of Twister’s door.

Twister smiled and quickly trotted over to hug her niece. “Good to see you, Typhoon. Gods, you look like a mess.”

Typhoon nodded and separated from Twister’s embrace. “Another day, another riot is what I say. I finally managed to sort out today’s mess and get everypony off the streets. Hopefully it’ll be another few weeks before we have to do this again.”

At the sound of Typhoon’s voice, Tempest’s head shot up, and he clambered to his hooves. “Mommy!” he shouted, completely abandoning his toys as he bounded over to his mother.

A brilliant, happy smile spread across Typhoon’s face, and she immediately bent down to wrap her son in her wings. “Oh it’s so good to see you, my little soldier!” she cooed, rubbing her cheek against his. As Tempest melted against her chest, she only hugged him tighter and nuzzled him closely. “Did you kill any griffons today?”

“Almost,” Tempest answered in a little squeak. Frowning at Twister, he added, “But the griffon got me, though.”

Typhoon tousled Tempest’s mane. “I’m sure you’ll get ‘em next time. After all, a Cirran is never defeated, only delayed.” Rubbing his back with a wing, Typhoon pointed with a hoof towards the toy sword. “Is that how a true legionary treats their weapon?”

Pushing away from his mother, Tempest shook his head. “No, ma’am!” Scampering away on his little legs, the colt picked up his sword and slid it into a loop of rope around his shoulders that served as a scabbard. “Me and Virga are unstoppable together!”

The Praetorian nodded and gave Tempest a salute. “Ante Legionem nihil erat.”

Tempest immediately outstretched his forehoof and spread his wings in the Cirran salute. “Et nihil erit post Legionem!” he proudly exclaimed, reciting the words his family had taught him relentlessly since he could speak.

Typhoon smiled and stood up, stretching her armored back as she did so. “Thanks for watching him for me, Twister,” she said. “Dad dumped his share of command onto me for the day so he could take care of his meeting with the others.”

Twister waved her hoof. “It’s not a problem, Typhoon. I’m always more than happy to watch after little Tempest for you when you’re out, as long as he doesn’t get into my paperwork.” Sighing, she ran a hoof through her frazzled mane and stared down the pile of scrolls covering every inch of her desk.

“And for that I’m really thankful,” Typhoon said, placing a hoof on Twister’s shoulder. “The nannies only keep after him until I’m supposed to be off-duty. He’s still young enough that he needs somepony to watch over him while I’m not there.”

Twister dipped her head. “I understand, Typhoon, but really now.” Turning to face the mare directly, Twister hardened her expression. “Shouldn’t you at least consider finding a stallion to help raise him with you? He needs a father figure.”

Typhoon shuddered and forced down unpleasant memories of a dark cell underneath a castle in River Rock. “I’m sorry Twister, I—I just can’t. Not after what I’ve been through. I don’t think I could ever share a bed with a stallion and not sleep with one eye open after that.” She shuddered again. “Mobius, I was only seventeen. I don’t think I could have ever known something like this would happen to me.”

She took a few steps away from Twister to watch Tempest play with his toys in the corner of the legatus’ office. Typhoon couldn’t ever be sure which stallion had fathered him—there hadn’t been much of a break between them in those days—but in her heart she knew who it was. Him, the one with the sapphire coat and silvery mane who had been so cruel and the source of all of Typhoon’s agony. Instinctually she felt for the scar across the right half of her face that Jewel had branded her with. That unicorn and his golden eyes haunted her dreams every night. At the very least, Tempest had been born a pegasus and had inherited his mother’s magenta eyes, although Jewel’s blue coat and whitish mane were still very much present.

If he had been born a unicorn with those golden eyes…

Typhoon shook her head, and a smile slowly crept across her lips as she watched Tempest play. Jewel had given her something she never wanted, but she made Tempest her own and loved him with all her heart. Whenever Tempest asked why all the other foals had fathers and he didn’t, Typhoon only hugged him close and told him that his father had died long before he was born. It wasn’t exactly the answer Tempest wanted, but it was the only one Typhoon could give him. Maybe one day when he was older, she’d tell him the truth, but for now, it was best to give him the half-truth and distract him with stories about Grandpa Hurricane and his accomplishments during the Red Cloud War.

Turning around, Typhoon cleared her head of such thoughts. “So, Twister, what’s new lately? I don’t even know what you do half the time now that you don’t have to deal with the other two tribes.”

Twister sighed and shrugged her wings. “Don’t worry, Typhoon, there’s always something to keep me busy. And don’t think that it’s gotten easier since Equestria was founded. I still have to bounce back and forth between all the other diplomats in Parliament. It’s hard being minority leader and balancing the issues of the pegasi against that of the earth ponies and unicorns.” Grumbling, she reclaimed her seat and fidgeted with the placard on her desk proclaiming her as Equestria’s parliamentary minority leader. “Representative Carrot Cake only got majority leader because there’re more earth ponies in the electorate. It’s hard to have a representational system that covers everypony’s needs when everypony only votes for the members of their own race.”

Typhoon grunted as if she understood what Twister was griping about. “I don’t envy you, Twister. Politics is just a cloak and dagger way of killing a pony rather than the sword and shield. I don’t know how you ponies put up with each other and do what you do; I’d be as lost as a recruit in the middle of the battlefield if I ever tried my hoof at it.”

Twister raised an eyebrow at Typhoon. “Your father isn’t going to live forever, Typhoon. When he’s gone, it’s your job to take over all of Cirra’s politicking with the other race leaders. Believe me, it’ll be just as bad as serving in parliament.”

The manila mare groaned and rolled her eyes. “Looking forward to it.”

Twister smiled and placed a hoof on Typhoon’s cuirass. “I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it quickly, Ty. Can you BS?”

Typhoon raised an eyebrow. “BS? You’re asking the wrong mare, Aunt. I’m not a good liar.”

The legatus took a deep breath and settled back down in her chair. “Oh Mobius, have mercy on this poor mare.”

“Right,” Typhoon sarcastically replied. Shaking her head, she fussed with a few strands of her mane and separated them back into their like colors. Finding a seat near Twister’s mahogany desk, Typhoon quickly pulled it over and flopped down in it, happily sighing as she decompressed from the day’s stress. She opened her wings and let them hang limply by her sides, the leading blades on the wingblade assemblies scraping against the floor.

She got about five seconds of rest before a ball of fur and feathers slammed into her chest, causing her to jolt back and cough. Looking down, she saw Tempest standing squarely on her chest, his toy sword inches from her neck.

“I got you!” he squeaked, trying to sound tough and hold back his giggles. “Prepare to die!”

Typhoon feigned fear and held her hooves in front of her face. “No, please, sir! I’m too young to die!”

“Cirra’s enemies deserve no mercy!” Tempest declared. Biting down on his sword, he drew the flat wooden blade across Typhoon’s neck with a grim finality. The Praetorian gasped and dropped her head back, pretending to be dead for a few seconds, before she sat upright and hugged her son close against her body. She kissed the top of his head several times and angled his chin so he would look right at her.

“You’re gonna be a fine soldier one day, Tempest,” she declared, rubbing the little colt’s head. “And mommy’s going to be so proud of you.”

Tempest giggled and nuzzled his mother. Then, Typhoon set the colt on the floor and patted his head. “Get your things and say goodbye to Aunt Twister. It’s time to get you to bed.”

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaawwwwwwwwwwwwwww,” Tempest pouted. He promptly plopped onto the floor and gave his mom the most indignantly disappointed look he could muster. “But I’m not tiiiiiiirrrreeeeeed.”

“You will be by the time we get back home,” Typhoon responded. Standing up, she ushered Tempest over to his toys. “Come on now, you’ve got a big day ahead of you. Mommy’s going to take you to the barracks so you can see the legionaries train.”

His ears perked up, and Tempest hopped into the air, his tiny wings buzzing in vain to keep him aloft. “Yay! Are you going to be training any of the soldiers, Mommy?”

Typhoon shrugged her shoulders. “We’ll see, little guy. Depends on what needs to be done tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Tempest answered, sounding unsure of whether he should be excited or disappointed. He waddled over to his toys in the corner of Twister’s office and began to scoop them up, balancing the larger ones across his outstretched and stubby wings.

Typhoon watched her little one gather his things for a moment before turning back to Twister and giving the mare a hug. “Thanks again for everything, Twister. I promise, the next time you and Echo need me to look after Gust and Squall, I’ll be happy to repay the favor.”

Twister put a hoof up to Typhoon’s lips. “Don’t worry about it, Ty. The kids are getting old enough that we don’t have to look after them all the time. Squall turned thirteen while you were out in the field last month, remember?”

The Praetorian nodded. “I remember. Did she enjoy the emerald necklace I got for her when I was in the Union?”

“Oh, she loves the thing,” Twister said. “She wears it every day. I know she’s not turning out to be the military cousin that you wanted when you were younger, but she’ll make a fine wife to some lucky stallion someday.”

“Heh,” Typhoon breathed. “I suppose it’ll be nice to have some civilians in the family for once.”

Twister nodded. “And it means that I don’t have to worry about her dying someplace far from home. You don’t know how much I worry about you and your father.”

Typhoon didn’t have anything to add to that. Twister understood her life far better than most civilians, especially the earth ponies and unicorns, but nopony outside of the Legion would truly know it like she did. Being the next-highest Praetorian behind Hurricane, Typhoon didn’t have many other ponies she could call real friends in the Legion. The only pony she could really talk to about her feelings was her father, but he wasn’t around all that often as the leader of the pegasus faction. Twister was the closest pony she had to an outlet, but even then, sometimes it wasn’t enough.

Sighing, Typhoon imperceptibly shook her head. It was times like those that she really missed Cyclone.

Just then, there was a cough at the door, accompanied by a brisk knock. Both mares turned to see Hurricane standing in the door, his expression business. As he entered, Typhoon immediately saluted, while Twister bowed her head.

“Hurricane?” Twister asked as she stood back to full height. “I didn’t expect to see you here this late. How are you?”

Hurricane shrugged, the skysteel along his wings rattling gently. “I’ve been better. You know what I’ve been having to deal with lately.” Coughing, he shrugged again. “Anyways, I came to tell you—!”

The tall, graying pegasus grunted as Tempest latched onto his leg and squeezed. “Grandpa! You missed me being a super-awesome legionary!”

Hurricane’s rigid demeanor gently melted as he bent down to scoop up his grandson. “Did I, now?” he asked, placing his hooves on Tempest’s sides. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to see it. You’ll show me again later, right?”

The foal nodded and picked up his sword. “Mmhmm! Mommy said she was going to take me to the barracks tomorrow! I get to see the soldiers train!” Folding his ears back, he let out a long, tired yawn, and his eyelids fluttered with exhaustion.

Hurricane patted Tempest on the head. “Exciting! I’m sure they’ll love to see you there.” Rubbing his hoof through the foal’s mane one last time, he gently backed away and approached Twister and Typhoon.

It didn’t take her father’s sigh for Typhoon to see he was deeply agitated. Brushing a wing against his, she sidled up beside him. “What’s wrong?” she whispered in a voice too soft for Tempest to hear.

“Something’s come up,” Hurricane muttered. “I need to discuss plans with you and Twister.”

Typhoon’s face turned grave, and she stepped back, nodding in understanding. “I see. Can it wait until I’ve put Tempest to bed?”

Hurricane waved his hoof. “Of course, of course. I’ll meet you in the courtyard when you’re finished.”

Saluting, Typhoon walked past Hurricane and knelt down next to Tempest. Extending a wing, she let the little colt wearily climb onto her armored back, deflecting her wingblades downwards so he wouldn’t accidentally cut himself. When Tempest sprawled across her shoulders and neck, Typhoon gave him a little kiss and whispered, “Say goodbye to Grandpa and Aunt Twister.”

“G’bye, Gran’pa,” Tempest muttered as his eyes threatened to close on him. “G’bye, Aunt Twister.”

Twister kissed his forehead and Hurricane tousled his mane. “Get some sleep, kiddo,” the mare said. “You’ve got some big adventures ahead of you tomorrow.” Hurricane merely nodded to him, and mouthing a last goodbye, Typhoon grabbed her helmet and placed it on her head before disappearing down the stone halls, her son already dozing off on her back.

The two siblings stood in Twister’s office for several silent seconds before the legatus sighed and began to file away her papers. Hurricane turned to her and raised an eyebrow, smiling slightly. “I’m glad I’ve got a secretary to take care of that for me.”

“You think that’s what I’m missing?” Twister grumbled, standing straight. She shook her wings a few times to try and get her primaries back in line, but all she did was knock out a few secondaries around the gap she had made in her wings from pulling quills. “I have three, for all the good they do me.”

Hurricane scoffed and shook his head. “You’re definitely efficient at what you do, though.”

Slamming a drawer closed and slapping a heavy lock on it, Twister leaned on her hips. “I weighed everything, once. Five pounds of parchment moves through my hooves every day. The keratin on my hooves has literally bled before. That shouldn’t even be possible!”

Hurricane chuckled at his sister’s signature hyperbole. “You might want to get that checked out sometime.”

“What time?” the legatus grumbled. “If I leave my office for five minutes to take a leak, there’s twenty new scrolls on my desk. Gods only know what’ll happen if I leave for a whole day.”

Grunting, Twister angrily stuffed the last of the scrolls in a bin under her desk and locked it shut as well. Turning to Hurricane, the brown mare sighed, letting her long, black mane spill down her shoulders. “Things were simpler when other ponies didn’t try to steal from you.”

Hurricane raised his eyebrow while Twister gathered her things from a pile in the corner of the office. “Steal from you? You’ve had a problem with that?”

“No,” Twister flatly answered. “Not since I caught two earth pony lackeys snooping around my office a few months ago.” Tapping the scabbard with the golden hilt sticking out of it, she smiled. “I don’t know how to use a sword, and I don’t think this thing could cut, either, but seeing a pegasus dressed in full armor with a red robe and a sword coming at you… you tend to freak out if you’re an earth pony.”

The Cirran commander casually laughed, a deep and reverberating sound that filled the small office with its easiness. “At least you can pull the look of a legionary.” Seeing that his sister had gathered her things, Hurricane gestured towards the door with a wing. “Come, we’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

“You’re telling me,” Twister said, glancing over her shoulder as she led the way down the hall. “I hardly ever see your handsome face anymore. You’re too busy tangling with the Crystals in the northeast nowadays.” A concerned look spread over her face, and she stopped to look Hurricane squarely in the eye. “What’s going on with that, anyway? All I see is the requisition orders, yet I know when a legion’s getting stocked.”

Hurricane sighed. “Equestria is expanding faster than we anticipated. We’ve got land between here and Platinum’s Landing, but with the forest in the west and the badlands to the south, there aren’t that many other options for the steady stream of settlers we seem to be producing.” Flexing his wingblades, Hurricane let one drag along the stone walls, showering the ground in sparks. “Ponies are moving north, right into Jade’s lands, and claiming them for Equestria. What do we do if she responds? Abandon them, or defend them?”

Twister pursed her lips in thought. “And have you three tried curtailing the expansion of the settlers?”

“Believe me, we’ve tried,” Hurricane muttered. “The legions that are up there now were originally there to turn back the stubborn ponies who still tried to move north. Of course, that didn’t make things better at all.” Using his wings for balance, Hurricane made air-quotes with his forehooves. “Free expansion! Land for Equestria, land for me!” He shook his head. “We don’t need to make this another problem trying to split the nation at the seams.”

“Have Smart Cookie negotiate with Queen Jade, then!” Twister exclaimed. “He and her are pretty… well, erm, close, if the diplomats are to be believed. I’m sure you can work something out!”

“Believe me, Twist, I’m trying every day.” He shook his head. “But I’ll be damned if it comes to war. We’re too fragile to sustain a lengthy conflict, and we need them, whether or not the ponies of Equestria realize it.”

The legatus shook her head. “And what can you do, Hurricane? You have to be able to do something!”

“I have been doing what I can,” Hurricane said, raising his hooves to defend himself. “I’ve slowed deployments and rerouted supplies, but sooner or later the earth pony-led parliament is going to vote for war.” Cursing under his breath, Hurricane crushed a small pebble under his hoof. “I don’t like the Legion being taken out of my control, Twister. It’s not a tool for the politicians to use; it’s the heart and soul of Cirra.”

Twister nodded, bumping into her brother’s shoulder as a show of support. “I hear you, Cane. I’m doing my best to help you out, but it’s hard to get anything done when you’re in the minority.”

Hurricane sighed and angrily shook his head. His wings extended, flexed, and then settled against his sides, trembling and smoldering as they bled off his excess anger. “Thanks. But that’s not important right now. There’s something more important I need to talk to you and Typhoon about.”

“As I’m no doubt aware,” Twister responded. Rounding a corner, the two pegasi cut across an open stone foyer before making their way into the courtyard enclosed within the castle walls. The colonnades were impressively tall and immaculately textured, chiseled and polished so fine that their edges were crisper than razors and their faces smoother than silk. A covered walkway surrounded the edges of the courtyard, leading back into the castle, but over the grass of the courtyard itself there was nothing but the grand indigo of the early night sky. Wandering over to a bench of birch wood erected between two tall trees and a flower bed, the pegasi sat down and waited for Typhoon to join them.

Twister sighed with relief and spread her soft, brown wings across the back of the bench, letting the cool night air seep through her feathers. Somewhere nearby, crickets chirped, and an owl hooted from one of the trees. Despite the riot earlier in the day, the night was calm, and the last of the fires had finally been put out. The mare smiled to herself; Typhoon had done a great job saving a perfect night such as this.

Beside her, Hurricane seemed to be enjoying the brief respite as well. He had placed his onyx helmet in the grass next to him and had laid his sword at his rear hooves. With a few quick snaps he stripped the wingblades from his crests and laid them down beside his sword, letting his faded black feathers flex and shake off the day’s sweat. As they brushed by her side, Twister noticed that the silver gradient towards their tips was starting to become a duller gray with age.

“I love nights like this,” Twister murmured, leaning back over the bench. Pointing a hoof to the sky, she began to trace constellations. “Mobius’ Shield… Grabacr’s Storm… Strigon’s Wings…” She pointed her hoof towards another cluster of stars. “Galm’s Chariot, or as the earth ponies call it, the Big Dipper.”

“Big Dipper,” Hurricane mused to himself. “That’s a name for a constellation, alright.”

“It’s supposed to look like a ladle or something from what I’ve heard.”

“Yeah, maybe if you squint.” Hurricane chuckled, and he drew his hooves across his chest and sighed. “I remember nights like this back home.”

A sad smile pulled at Twister’s lips. “I do too, Cane. We had such a clear view of the sky from our backyard.” She blinked away a wistful tear and instead smiled wider. “The night was so clear and so beautiful. There wasn’t any light pollution from the cities, Mom would be baking raisin bread in the stove, and there’d be nopony out there but us. No responsibilities, no papers, no nothing.” A sad waver accompanied her last sentence. “Just two kids enjoying the night sky.”

Hurricane draped his wing around his sister’s back. “I miss those nights, too. Gods, things were so much simpler back then.” He laughed, shaking his head. “There was no greater empire or Legion then. We were Cirran, but that just meant we were pegasi. Stratopolis was so far away.”

“Every Sunday we’d go down to the lake and swim,” Twister said, bringing back old memories. “We’d bring a picnic, and Mom and Dad would come too, and we’d just spend an entire day there.”

“And Silver Sword lived on the next hill over,” Hurricane said, continuing. “I’d spar with him from time to time, and he’d beat my flank into the ground. Oh, the trouble we used to get into…”

Twister giggled. “Like that one time you two ‘accidentally’ left a thunderhead in the schoolhouse so that you could get off school for a day?” She shook her head. “Thank the gods that thing wasn’t live or you seriously would have killed somepony.”

Hurricane shrugged, smiling. “We were ten and hardly knew better. Still,” he said, letting out an easy breath, “those were the days. What I wouldn’t give to relive them again.”

The legatus bobbed her head in agreement. “Mmhmm.” Then, sighing, she shook her head. “Life has a nasty way of taking things from you.”

“So I’ve learned, Twister,” Hurricane grimly commented. “So I’ve learned.”

The flattening of crisp grass underhoof alerted both siblings to an approaching pony. Looking up, they saw Typhoon approaching them, devoid of armor and letting her short, multicolored mane hang loose. Her wings twitched with a conscious effort to keep them up and by her sides, but even then, the primaries threatened to droop from her exhaustion.

“There you are,” Hurricane said. Standing up, he met his daughter halfway out and gave her a warm embrace. “You look like hell, Typhoon.”

“Thanks, Dad, I’m—” she barely managed to catch a yawn and stifle it with a hoof. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

Hurricane smiled and patted her back, leading her to the bench and offering her his seat. “I would imagine. Between your duties and that little scamp running around all day, you’ve certainly got your hooves full.”

Twister made space for Typhoon on the bench as the weary praetorian collapsed onto it. “You got Tempest put to bed?”

Typhoon nodded. “He’s out like a rock. Which is good, considering I’ll be out like one too when we’re done here.” Stifling another yawn, she looked to her father. “So what have I missed?”

“You missed your Aunt and I reminiscing about the old days,” Hurricane said. Stretching his legs one by one, he settled down in the grass. “But that’s not what I wanted to talk about.”

“I gathered that,” Typhoon said, closing her eyes for a few brief moments. “Who do you need taken down?”

Twister raised her eyebrow at Typhoon’s question, and she opened a wing in disappointment. “Really, Typhoon, what makes you jump to that conclusion?” Reclining, she shook her head. “Seriously, he would have already taken care of the problem if that’s really what it was.”

Hurricane rolled his eyes. “Right. But that’s not the problem.” Reaching into the saddlebag strapped to his armor, he pulled out the little wooden box he had taken from Star Swirl’s storeroom. “Somepony broke into Star Swirl’s personal storeroom and stole something of incredible importance. I need to get it back before it’s lost forever.”

Typhoon cocked her head. “Somepony got past Star Swirl the Bearded’s lock?” She scratched her chin with a hoof. “Are you sure he isn’t playing games with us?”

Twister laughed. “No, when Star Swirl’s playing a game with you, something in the back of your mind knows even if he’s good at diverting your attention from it.” She stuck her tongue out at a particularly sour memory. “Senile bastard’s gotten me several times. It amuses him.”

“Star Swirl wouldn’t joke about something this important and dangerous,” Hurricane said, forcefully dragging the conversation back on topic. “He lost Electrum’s Orb.”

Twister sat up straighter at that, while Typhoon quickly took on a puzzled look. “Electrum’s Orb? Can’t say I’ve heard of it, and if it’s so powerful and so dangerous, why didn’t Star Swirl tell us about it before?”

Hurricane shrugged. “I can’t say for certain. All I know is what he told me. Electrum’s Orb—”

“Is a powerful magical artifact capable of seeing anypony anywhere in the world at any time,” Twister interrupted. Turning to Hurricane, she nodded at his apparent surprise that she knew about it. “There are things you learn when you spend all day talking to unicorn nobles who try to gain some feeling of self-worth by being some unicorn king’s cousin’s roommate’s brother’s nth grandchild.” She rolled her eyes and turned away slightly. “If these nobles put as much effort into Equestria’s problems as they do with their own genealogy we’d get a heck of a lot more done.”

“Don’t expect that to change anytime soon,” Hurricane muttered. “Regardless, somepony—or something—broke through Star Swirl’s lock and practically waltzed out of the castle with the Orb. Diadem tried to chase it down, but despite her best efforts it eluded her.”

Typhoon angled her head, and her short, colorful mane tumbled to one side. “Hold on a second. Something? What do you mean?”

“From what Diadem told us, our thief was mostly equine, but he had yellow, slitted eyes, a curved horn, and fangs, of all things.” Shaking his head, Hurricane shrugged. “To me, it sounds like some monster out of a foal’s story, or a demon of some kind, but the fact of the matter is that it still managed to break through some powerful magic, including the castle’s teleportation ward, and escape with something incredibly dangerous.”

“So what are we going to do about it?” Twister asked. Her brown hooves clopped together idly, filling the courtyard with a distinctive clicking. “I can make a presentation to the Parliament and maybe get something moving after it—”

Hurricane silenced her by holding out a graying wing. “Star Swirl kept the Orb a secret for a reason. The last thing we need is the politicians finding out about it. If you think our political nightmares are bad enough, that’ll only make things worse.”

Typhoon straightened herself and faced Hurricane squarely. “I can find it for you, sir. I’ll lead a company of Praetorians after him and bring him back to Everfree, piece by piece if we have to.”

“I admire your enthusiasm, Typhoon, but no.” When Typhoon’s wings drooped a fraction of an inch in a crestfallen manner, Hurricane cleared his throat and took a step forward over the springy summer grass. “I trust your abilities, but I cannot let you go on a wild goose chase such as this. You’re the second in command of the entire Cirran Legion. With the way Equestria has been lately, it needs you to help settle these riots peacefully.” Reaching out with a wing, he rested it across his daughter’s shoulders, almost feeling her exhaustion. “Besides, Tempest needs you. You’re his mother, and you can’t dump him off on Twister all the time.”

Twister smiled. “Oh, don’t listen to the old fool, Ty, I’d be more than happy to watch him for you. He’s always welcome at my place; my daughters love him.”

Typhoon laughed. “I know they do. But still, Dad’s right. Much as I hate to admit it, I’ve got too many responsibilities in Everfree to take care of.” Then, turning to Hurricane, she narrowed her magenta eyes at him. “Then what are we going to do? Are you going to go after him?”

She didn’t know whether to be surprised or not that he actually nodded.

“I’m going after him, and I’ll take him down by myself,” he said. His voice was so casual and flat that he might as well have been ordering breakfast. When Typhoon opened her mouth to protest, he simply held up his hoof. “I can travel faster and quieter by myself. My best bet lies in catching this thief and taking him down when he’s not expecting it. Maybe I’ll find who he’s working for in the process.” Stepping back, he bent down and picked up his scabbard, strapping it to the side of his armor. “Then I’ll take a cohort with me and clean the place out.”

Typhoon still looked unconvinced. “You remember what happened the last time you went on some wayward quest by yourself into the wilderness. Cloudsdale burned, Cyclone and I nearly killed each other, and you got an unexpected grandchild. Is this really such a good idea?”

“To be fair,” Twister began, holding out her hooves, “Cyclone isn’t around this time.”

Hurricane winced at both of their statements. “I understand your concerns, Typhoon, but the decision’s already been made. Star Swirl is gathering supplies and preparing for my journey; I leave at first light.” Picking up his wingblades, he reaffixed them to his crests and stretched his wings until they fit comfortably along the arms.

“But Dad,” Typhoon began, still uncertain.

“This discussion is over, Typhoon.”

The mare sighed and weakly saluted. “Sir.”

Twister stood up. “And what about us? You wouldn’t have brought us all the way out here if there wasn’t something you wanted us to do.”

Hurricane nodded. “You’re right. Well, as these riots have been getting worse and worse, I’ve been seeing reports from centurions saying that they believe there’s another force instigating them. Given how things have been spiraling out of control, followed by Gilded Line’s assassination back in White Fields, I don’t think that’s too absurd an assumption.”

“I still don’t understand why anypony wanted to assassinate Platinum’s husband,” Typhoon muttered. “He was from a noble family, sure, but I didn’t see him as much of a power politician.”

Twister shook her head. “He wasn’t, but he was from the Line of Aurum. Their line has had more great kings than any other line in the Diamond Kingdom, including Malachite the Titan, the second of the kings known as the Wise Five.”

Typhoon raised her eyebrow. “Sounds like a brute of a pony.”

“Eh, that’s one way to look at it. He always wore armor and carried a greathammer into battle with him.” Twister shook her head. “It’s back in Burning Hearth; it was physically too heavy and too large to move when the unicorns were gathering up their essentials for the move west.”

The Praetorian nodded out of respect for the lethality of the weapon. “How large are we talking about?”

“The thing was seven foot from base to head,” Hurricane said. “It must have been made out of lead or lodestone, because the damn thing weighed nearly seventy-five pounds.”

“Gods,” Typhoon muttered. “And Gilded Line’s related to him? I can’t imagine a unicorn wielding a weapon like that.”

“Malachite wasn’t your average unicorn,” Twister said. “The stallion was about four foot and as dense as a mountain. There’s a reason he was the one to crush the neighboring Emeraldine Confederacy and bring those unicorns into the Diamond Kingdom.”

“I see. So you’re saying that Gilded Line was assassinated because he was related to this King?”

“No,” Twister said, shaking her head. “Less so that than the fact that the Line of Aurum held most of the Diamond Kingdom’s gold, and as such Gilded Line was a very influential and powerful pony.” Shrugging, she sat back down. “My best guess is that whoever it is that’s agitating things behind the scenes didn’t want the two most powerful noble lines acting as one from the seat of Equestria. You remember how the unicorns feuded with each other the moment Gilded’s pulse faded.”

“I remember alright,” Hurricane added. “The different lines all went back to their keeps and began to rally banners. Most put down their arms when I threatened the Legion’s intervention. A few, though, resisted…”

His voice trailed off, but Twister was quick to pick up on it. “Lord Jet. I remember.”

“Jet was the fiercest of the warmongers,” Typhoon said. “He was calling for war with Equestria itself. It’s a good thing we put him down when we did.”

“Yeah, with a legion’s worth of soldiers,” Twister added. She shook her head. “Is there even anything left of his hold?”

“Nothing but rubble,” Typhoon simply stated. “He fought to the last pony, and the unicorn clan that accompanied our legion tore the place to the ground afterwards.”

“They made a song about it,” Hurricane simply stated. “I’m sure you heard it somewhere. But that isn’t important. What I was getting at was that I need somepony to investigate what’s going on behind the scenes here. These riots have only gotten worse and worse, despite what we concede to them, and I’m starting to think that somepony else is to blame.”

Twister rested her forehead in a hoof. “And you think that this pony or group of ponies might also be the same ones responsible for Gilded Line’s assassination and the theft of Electrum’s Orb.” It wasn’t a question, it was a fact.

Hurricane nodded. “It only makes sense. If somepony isn’t trying to destabilize the government, incite civilian unrest, and steal powerful magical artifacts, then I don’t know what’s going on. No, all this happened by somepony’s design, and if we don’t stop them, there’ll be only one outcome.”

“Civil war,” Typhoon darkly stated. She trembled as she breathed, and all three present knew that she was right.

“Exactly.” Stepping closer, Hurricane looked between the two mares. “Equestria will not survive a civil war. Our three races will splinter again, and we’ll end up returning to the Tri-pony Compact—and that’s the best case scenario.”

“And worse case…” Typhoon mused, shuddering at the thought.

“It was Grabacr who sent the demons to the tribes to punish us for our infighting,” Twister said. Sighing, she scratched the base of a wing. “Who’s to say that he won’t destroy this land as well once we turn the rivers red with blood?”

Hurricane ground his hoof into the ground. “Cirra will not move again. Or, if we do move, it will be east and not west.”

“At least Cyclone will get what he wanted all along,” Typhoon muttered, shaking her head.

“So this is what it comes down to,” Hurricane said. “I am going to recover Electrum’s Orb. While I’m gone, try to find out who’s been working behind the scenes, trying to push us to a civil war. With luck, this riot might be Equestria’s last.”

Twister leaned back, looking out over the walls of the castle courtyard and to the starry night skies above. Each one was a Cirran legionary who had perished in battle, and as a result had been granted immortality in the peaceful solace of the night sky. Swift Spear was up there, somewhere, looking down on them as they tried to save what she had died for. If they were successful, Equestria might just live. If they were not…

She shook her head. She didn’t want to have to think of how many more constellations she’d be able to name when all was said and done.

“I’ll see if I can get anything out of Parliament and Puddinghead,” she said. “There’re always plenty of rumors going around in the political world, and with luck, a few might be more than just rumors.”

“And I’ll gather up a few of my most trusted soldiers and see if we can’t find anything in the slums,” Typhoon added. “If there really is some faction behind this all, they’ll have a footing there. It’s all about finding the signs and talking to the right ponies.”

Hurricane nodded. “Be careful, both of you. We’re playing with fire here; today’s riot was just another example of what’s at stake. We can’t afford mistakes.”

“We’ll do our best and see where that brings us,” Typhoon said. Standing up, she quickly brought her hoof to her face to hide a yawn. “Sorry. If we’re done here, I’m going to get some sleep—what sleep I can with a four-year-old running amok around the house.” Raising her wing, she saluted her father. “Good luck, Dad. Come back in one piece.”

Hurricane saluted, then wrapped his wings around his daughter. “I’ll be gone before you wake up in the morning. Stay safe; you’ll be in much more danger than I will.”

Typhoon scoffed. “I find that hard to believe. I’m not venturing into the wilderness by myself.”

“The natural wilderness is a lot safer than the urban wilderness,” Hurricane countered, rubbing Typhoon’s back. “Fewer snakes.”

The mare rolled her eyes and separated. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” Turning around, she waved a wing at Hurricane and Twister. “Goodnight, both of you.”

With the quiet tapping of hooves over grass, Typhoon soon disappeared, leaving Hurricane and Twister in the courtyard. Standing up, Twister also walked over to Hurricane and embraced him, shaking her head wearily. “Nothing good can come from this, Hurricane.”

Hurricane likewise shook his head. “You’re right. But in the end, it’s better than doing nothing.”

“Perhaps,” Twister mused. “Perhaps. Just come back in one piece. That’s all I ask of you.”

The commander nodded. “You have my word.”

Taking a few steps back, Twister smiled faintly. “‘Your word’. So help me, I’ll kill you again if you come back in two.”

Then, spreading her wings, the mare took flight, disappearing into the night sky above the city. Hurricane watched her go while a heavy stone sank into his gut. He hadn’t been joking with Typhoon when he said the city was more dangerous than the wild. Nothing was conspiring against you and doing everything it could to cover its tracks in the wild.

“Please be safe,” he whispered to himself, moving to the bench. With a tired and weary sigh, he sat down on it, placing his helmet next to him and relaxing his wings. He let the coolness of the night air brush past his muzzle, and he closed his eyes, leaning back.

Morning came all too soon, but when the sun’s light touched the bench in the courtyard, the Cirran was nowhere to be found.