“Hungry Ghost said that his weapons were ancient artifacts,” Pallas said, as she tried to stand still. Small plates of metal floated around her at a small distance, held in place by a dull grey aura of magic. A harness had already been built out of treated silk and leather, studded with attachment points for the armor itself. Pallas had to admit that it was a lot better than the one-size-fits-nopony armor that she’d had to use during the war already.

“They are,” Silver Tongue confirmed, as he kept working, some of the scale-like plates bending and twisting into shape, holding themselves against her body before coming away as he tested shapes for mobility and coverage.

“So why don’t I get any ancient artifacts to play with?” Pallas complained jokingly.

“See, that’s what I can’t stand,” Silver Tongue said, raising a hoof and shaking it at Pallas accusingly. “Everypony thinks that ancient artifacts are just so much better than what we can make today! It’s wrong-headed! Yes, some of the most powerful enchanted items are ages old - but they’re no more powerful on average than what we can make today. It’s just that everypony remembers swords made out of fire and forgets that it’s the exception, not the rule. You don’t need a magic stone that helps clean laundry, because we’ve got bloody soap for it.”

“...You’re making my new wingblades out of soap?” Pallas asked, feigning ignorance.

“I’d smack you if I wouldn’t break my damn hoof doing it,” Silver Tongue snorted. “That said, the quality of an enchanted weapon has a lot to do with the quality of the base weapon. You can’t make a very good enchanted tree branch, for example.” He paused. “Unless you used lightning-struck Hoofduran mahogany. That might work.”

“Silver, if I have to beat griffons with a stick, I’m going to test it out on you,” Pallas said, rolling her eyes.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Silver Tongue replied. “Wood is really more of an Earth Pony thing, after all. I prefer to work with metal. Speaking of which, I need exceptional metal for your wingblades, and I know you’ve got that Khan’s sword sitting around gathering dust.”

“Kinda heavy, though,” Pallas said. She watched as bands of metal bent around her legs, attaching themselves to the harness. “Hungry Ghost’s are made from Lunar Titanium, right? Whatever that is…”

“A magical material,” Silver Tongue said. “It’s a rare metal, further treated by infusing it with moon dust and moonlight. Only Luna knows the secrets to making it, which is just as well since she’s the only one who can produce both of those on command.”

“Right. So isn’t that, you know, better?” She turned her head to look at Silver Tongue. His aura gripped her chin and shoved it back into place.

“Don’t move so much. This fitting is hard enough as-is just keeping things up in the air. If you move around I’ll start getting pieces mixed up.” A layer of hexagonal plates went down over her belly, overlapping and latching into place against one another, growing in size as they reached her chest.

“I do have to be able to move in this, you know,” Pallas muttered.

“Yes, thank you,” Silver Tongue snapped. “You might know more about wearing armor, but I’m the one who knows how to make it, so just bloody well listen to what I’m saying.” He huffed. “Now, for your information, Lunar Titanium is a good option, but it’s not the only one. I’m relatively sure that sword was made of Dracheneisen.”

Pallas waited a few moments for an explanation that didn’t come. “...and that is?”

“Just what it says on the tin. Dragon Iron. Steel forged in a dragon’s flame. I’m pretty sure I can get Ryujin to help me reshape it without losing any quality from it.”

“Go ahead,” Pallas shrugged. “I don’t really need it sitting around and hanging on my wall. If you screw it up I’m not gonna go out and find another minotaur Khan to fight just to get you more to work with, though.”

Silver Tongue lifted her hooves one at a time, armored shoes locking into place. An odd, jointed spike was attached to the rear, flexing as she moved as if it was part of her body. Pallas tilted her head and watched as Silver Tongue moved her leg up and down a few times to make sure they were acting smoothly.

“These are climbing spurs,” Silver Tongue explained. “I know you thestrals are all good at perching and clinging, but with these you’ll be able to go up and down sheer cliff faces if you need to.”

“Neat,” Pallas said. She was almost covered in the dark armor now, with only her head and back free. “I don’t know how much it’ll come up, though.”

“Part of the point of this is to make sure you have the tools you need before you need to use them,” Silver Tongue said. “Even the smallest edge in combat can make all the difference when it’s life-or-death.” Thick plates settled down along her neck and back.

“Woah, woah, what’s that?” Pallas frowned, as more plates extended over her tail, bands holding the hair like a tight, well, ponytail. “Really? You’re going to armor my tail?”

“More than that,” Silver Tongue smirked. Pallas suddenly felt an odd sensation as the bladed tip locked into place. Her whole tail wiggled and writhed like a snake, and she blinked as she watched it move on its own.

“That’s neat,” she muttered.

“Variant of a come-to-life spell,” Silver Tongue said. “You’ll be able to control it like another limb once you have some practice.”

“Yeah,” Pallas said, her tail thrashing to the side as she tried moving it, knocking over a candle and extinguishing it. She blushed and tried to make it go limp, only succeeding in making it start to curl up on itself.

“Just try not to break anything while you’re getting the hang of it.” Silver Tongue sighed, exasperated. “At least this part is already done…” He opened a chest and unwrapped a large oblong shape, revealing a helm like a dragon’s grinning face. “You’re lucky Luna made this. I’m not much of an artist.”

Pallas held still as the helm was pulled over her head, a strap going around her chin to hold the lower jaw in place and allow it to move. She worked her jaw, trying to get used to the feeling of tightness.

“Check the visibility,” Silver Tongue said. Pallas nodded and powered the visor, the teeth of the helm loosely interlocking.

“I can see okay through the eyes,” she started. The empty eye sockets flared with light. “Woah! This is strange. Everything is all glowy and outlined.”

“That’s the enchantments on the lenses set into the helm,” Silver Tongue nodded. “Nothing too complicated, since you can already see in the dark. Should help make sure you don’t accidentally cut anypony in half that you don’t mean to.”

Pallas looked down at her hooves. “Yeah. That’d be good…” The room seemed to fade away, like she was standing at the bottom of a well. The water was already knee-deep. No, not water. Blood, scarlet and hot around her, more dripping down from above, slowly filling it up. The blood creeping up to her barrel. Coating her wings. She reached up to start climbing out, and felt a pressure on her hoof.

A foal’s hoof, trying to hold her in place, with a grip like iron. She felt talons and hooves and teeth grip her ankles, holding her in the rising tide of blood. There was a surge from above, a torrent splashing down on her face, her mouth filling with gore. She sputtered and looked up. She saw herself standing at the top of the well, bucket in hoof.

The bucket was overturned, and more blood rained down on her. It was rising quickly now, up to her neck. She struggled against it as the liquid closed over her head and-

“Pallas?” Silver Tongue asked.

She blinked, trying to clear the vision from her mind. It was just a daydream. She was still in the armory, getting her armor fitted. She could taste blood. She’d bitten her lip, her newly sharpened teeth easily opening a small cut.

“Are you feeling alright? The helmet isn’t too tight, is it?” Silver Tongue looked concerned.

“It’s nothing,” Pallas said. She looked around to change the subject. “So what’s left?”

“Well, we need to get the razor scales on your shoulders and hooves so you can cut your way out of bindings, some more springdart launchers, and then we need to talk about wingblade design…”

She half-listened as he rambled on, still trying to shake the vision. It didn’t mean anything. She’d done what she had to do, and it had all been worth it. She could live with it.

She could live with it.

~~~***~~~

Morning Glory paced around the market square. He wasn't sure why he had been tasked with getting the Solar Guard in order. If he didn't know better, he'd assume it was merely because he had been in the wrong place in the wrong time and had the responsibility dropped on him. With the war over, the need for a liaison with the Night Guard was greatly reduced, and with it his duties had become considerably lighter. It felt good, in a way, to get back to more active duty.

In another way, it made him worried. As much as it seemed like it might be merely the result of luck that he'd been ordered to investigate the disturbance at Countess Flare's manor, and coincidence that he'd ended up meeting Sirocco Mandala, part of him was aware that it had almost certainly been planned.

Celestia had to suspect that he knew what had happened and was trying to conceal it. More than that, she had to know who had done it regardless. Not only was Pallas Athene the culprit, she had been the only member of the Night Guard whom Celestia had actually seen fight, and she'd displayed the same explosive violence in the dueling arena as had been shown in the Countess' home.

Morning Glory paced around the square, checking the guards there but using it more as a way to stretch his legs and think on his hooves. Everything led back to the same question. Why had he been trusted with this? Was it a way for Celestia to let him regain his self-confidence and display that her trust wasn't misplaced? Was it a test to see if he would fail? Or was there something he didn't know?

He was, unfortunately, beginning to think the third option was the most likely.

"Quiet today," Private Jade said, as Morning Glory stopped near him. "Seems like a few vendors didn't show up today."

"Hm?" Morning Glory blinked, his introspection broken as his train of thought was derailed. He looked around the square. There were plenty of ponies, with farmers selling goods out of their carts and street vendors offering their wares from blankets and tables, but the permanent stands were almost all closed.

"Odd for them to miss a market day," Private Jade said.

"Yes... odd indeed," Morning Glory frowned. He felt fear start to trickle down his spine and fought to hide it.

~~~***~~~

The patrol stopped. An odd figure walked towards them casually. He was wearing dark armor, his back hooves barely making a sound as he stalked towards the Solar Guard patrol. Where front hooves should have been were talons.

The hippogriff turned slightly, his side to the patrol. He reached up and scratched at side of his beak. His feathers and coat were just off white, like a very pale pastel green, banded with maroon along the edges.

"Is he with the Night Guard?" whispered one of the privates. "I didn't know they had any hippogriffs."

Sergeant Spice Drops rolled his eyes, ignoring the question. "You there!" He barked. The hippogriff's eyes met his. Something in the gaze made Spice Drops' blood chill. "If you're not here on official business, you need to leave. This isn’t a joint operation."

The hippogriff tilted his head and raised a wing, revealing a blade sheathed at his side, a long curved weapon no more than half a hoof across. The Sergeant grabbed the polearm from where it hung on a strap at his side, holding it in his teeth and planting his feet defensively.

The hippogriff reared up on his hind legs, a talon grabbing the sword at his side, the other holding the sheath. His wings flared out to keep his balance and he took off, hooves striking sparks on the cobblestones.

The patrol was well trained, the earth ponies firing crossbows at the hippogriff as soon as he moved, without the sergeant even needing to order it. There was a flash of blue as the sword cut bolts from midair, the hippogriff drawing and striking with the same motion.

Spice Drops brought his glaive to bear, trying to parry the incoming strike from the hippogriff's blade. Everything seemed to slow down. Spice Drops watched in horror as the sword went right through his weapon as if it was no more solid than a child's toy.

His neck didn’t stop it, either.

~~~***~~~

Morning Glory felt his paranoia growing as he circled the square. He could feel it in his bones that something was wrong. One guard missing, one patrol unaccounted for, there was nothing wrong with that. One of the perils of working with civilians meant that you sometimes had to do more with your job than just standing around in formation, and he'd much rather the Solar Guard be helping those in need than staying on guard on a street corner.

But three patrols should have gone by already. And he didn't see a single guard from where he stood. At least not a Solar Guard. A cluster of darkly-armored ponies in the Night Guard's uniforms were standing around a covered cart as if guarding it from curious onlookers.

Morning Glory stopped in the shadows, watching the cart. He didn't recognize any of those ponies. He knew almost everypony in the Night Guard after having served alongside them for years, and it wasn't likely that Luna was picking up new recruits when their numbers were already swollen from the war.

"Hm, a straggler," said an oddly accented voice from behind. Morning Glory turned in alarm, and his chest erupted in pain. Morning Glory looked down at the blue blade through his chest, then up at the hippogriff holding it. He coughed, a splatter of red escaping his lips.

"Nothing personal," the hippogriff said, shrugging. "It's just business." He gripped Morning Glory's shoulder and pushed him back, the pegasus sliding off of the blade, body going limp already. Everything went black as he hit the cobblestones, landing in a puddle of his own blood.