Amber stirred in her bed as a loud and obnoxious beeping noise rang in her ears. With a great deal of reluctance and anger, she cracked her eyes to stare at the ceiling of her room. Looking to her side with a grunt, she saw her alarm clock blaring away with a reminder that it was time to get up. The pillowy covers of her big soft bed embraced her warmly, and made her lethargic body beg to remain where she was while her mind and the screaming alarm clock told her otherwise. With a tired groan, she reached over and plopped her hoof down upon the snooze button.

"Just a dream," she said with a touch of disappointment.

Her attention shifted to the small pile of comic books that were strewn about her floor, the majority of the titles being of the fantasy adventure genre. She sighed and rubbed her temples as the memories came flooding back to her. A twinge of pain and fear lept into her when she remembered the rather detailed torture chamber she'd been held in. There was a rise of warmth and joy when that strange looking knight came to her rescue. She began to suspect that maybe her subconscious might be telling her something about her repressed self. Excitement rushed into her system at the recollection of the battle that raged into the night. It surprised her just how vivid her own imagination could be; maybe she shouldn't binge on so many back issues of Red Sorena before bed.

With a grunt she let herself flop back into the loving embrace of her bed and as she laid her head down, a darkly clad arm reached around her from behind and pulled her back into something. Looking over her shoulder, she found herself staring into the unblinking empty eyes of a skull. "Go back to sleep little birdie."

Amber shot up with a start, cold sweat soaked its way into her fur as it ran down her entire body. She panted and fought to fill her lungs with breath, yet found herself unable to keep them filled for long. Her eyes darted about and found that she was most definitely not back in Ponyville.

Canvas walls encircled her and billowed slightly from the cold morning air clawing weakly at its surface. Through the material, she could see the outline of trees and branches against the coming sunlight. Her body was wrapped in a sleeping bag that served as a cheap imitation for her long lost bed. Just outside her tent she could hear several muffled voices chatting on about some subject or another. Grumbling about her disdain for mornings, she pulled herself to her hooves and trotted out of her tent.

She was first greeted by a blinding ray of light from the coming day, as well as the somewhat heavenly scent of coffee and what might be eggs. Amber soon made haste towards the the tantalizing aromas. As she neared, she was greeted by a gaggle of jovial voices that called her over to a small cooking fire. Her mind finally clearing enough to take in her surroundings better,she quickly noted that she and her companions were camped. Tall trees encircled them in a small clearing and filtered scant rays from the rising sun while a soft breeze pushed through the branches. With a tired wobble, the guardsmare plodded her way over to them with a groggy smile before plopping down on her haunches.

"Morn'in Shine," Rourke greeted her cheerfully as he placed a tankard of hot black liquid before her. "Slept well I hope."

Taking it in her hooves, Amber took a deep breath, savoring the strong smell of the coffee before taking a long, thankful sip. She could feel its warmth bleed from her stomach to the rest of her body, and soon she felt warm from head to hoof. A soft, happy sigh escaped her maw while the last vestiges of sleep melted away from her mind and body. "Not as bad as the last place I woke up."

More than a few chuckles were received for her humorous jab. She was awake enough now to see the small camp ground around her properly now. A few small tents had been set up within a clearing somewhere in a mass of woodlands. The four of them had taken up sitting around the small fire at the center of the campsite. Rourke reclined on his side sipping some of the hot blackened brew while Frank saw to the hot plates and their sizzling delights. Ogrham sat upon a stump puffing away on a small wooden pipe while Amber continued to take in her new surroundings.

"So why didn't we stay with the rest of the rebels?"

"Ye mean besides the fact that we got'a talk'in pony with bat wings," Rourke asked teasingly. "Simple answer: our job's done so now we move on till another one comes along."

"You're mercenaries then," Amber pointed out before sipping her coffee.

"In a manner'a speak'in," the archer informed her. "See, win or lose this lil war fer independence, none'a us has any kind'a home or family ta go back ta. Noth'in but a bunch'a no hopers, jokers an' rogues stuck in this fight that ain't gonna help us anyways. So, we made our own little family an' started find'in ways ta make a live'in off everyone's hate fer each other."

"Gods boy'o, ye'd make lawyers sound fook'in straight if ye cared ta," Ogrham said with a snort. "Short answer lassy, aye, we're mercenaries an' as ye saw last night damned good ones ta boot. Won't be a problem fer ye will it Private?"

In response to Ogrham’s question, the thestral leaned over the skillet and scooped a portion of the frying eggs onto a plate. "Unless one of you guys've got a magic portal back to Equestria laying around somewhere, I think I'll just have to get used to it. So where's the rest of our troupe?"

"Lady Sabine said she'd be warsh'in up by the stream," Frank said.

"An’ the squire's no doubt off sulk'in 'bout that Reaper that beat 'is arse," Ogrham grunted.

--------------------

Beads of sweat ran down his face to and drenched his tunic while his shoulders rose and fell in a sluggish rhythm. Rictor breathed heavily as he glared daggers at the tree before him. In his hand was a long blunt sword that weighed down heavily in his grasp. With a tired grunt, he hefted the mock weapon into the air and swiped at the trunk against and again and again. Every motion of his arms shot barbs of pain through his shoulders, back and chest but he continued to push himself.

His still healing wound bit deeply into his arm when he brought the weapon up for another strike. It tore and ripped at him from the inside causing him to lose control of the weapon and stumble. Finally the pain became too much for him to bear and the young swordsman dropped to his knees. Panting and struggling for air, he glared up at the tree, his features set in a sneer. The scar on his face began to burn along with the growing anger that boiled in his gut. Desperately, he fought to pull himself back to his feet only to slip and tumble back to the ground where his lungs fought and struggled for air.

"Losing another fight with the trees I see," Sabine commented in an idle tone.

Turning his tired gaze to the direction of her voice, he saw the crimson skinned woman wrapped in a robe and leaning against a tree with a smug look on her face. "It's of no concern." Rictor replied through gritted teeth.

"Oh yes, of course..." she agreed with a faux pout. "No doubt you've shown that terrible oak, and never again will he threaten the lives of the innocent."

"What would you know about fighting!?" he snapped at her, and a brief second quickly regretted those words as he hung his head in shame. “I’m sorry sister, I spoke out of anger.”

Sabine however seemed barely fazed by his outburst. "I may not be a master of swordsmanship but I do know this: hacking at a tree trunk is not the same as hacking at a man. You've been in a few fights since that night young squire. You should know these things by now."

"What am I to do then?"

"Improve. As you are now, you would die before lifting your sword against him."

"If hacking at tree trunks is so useless then how?"

She stopped beside him and gently ruffled his hair. “You should ask the others to help you.”

“This is my burden,” he quickly cut her off. “It doesn’t concern them.”

“There is only so much you can do on your own, little brother,” she said softly to him. “Rage and vengeance can only carry you so far for so long. In the end, it will destroy you.”

Rictor said nothing as his sister headed back towards the camp. He sat upon his knees and waited for the pain in his arms and back to subside. Her words twisted and wrapped themselves around his mind for a time while he stared at the mock weapon in his hand. Grunting in annoyance, he jabbed the blunt blade into the soft loam and forced himself to his feet. Once standing again Rictor resumed his assault against the tree. Every swing that bit into the tree biting into his muscles.

--------------------

“So, here comes the obviously passed over question,” Amber started between mouthfuls of breakfast. “What are you guys anyways? No offense but we don’t exactly have any hairless bipeds running around Equestria.”

“Only fair, not sure what to make’a you either lassy,” Ogrham said as he lit the contents of his pipe, soon taking a drag from it.

“Well, I should be pretty obvious, bat features on a pony body, hence the term bat pony,” she pointed out while flexing her wings out from her sides for display. “Or thestral depending on who ya ask.”

“What ye’ve seen most of thus far’re humans like Frank here an’ the squire,” Rourke pointed out. “Me, I’m a touch’a that an’ what’s called an’ Elf. Easy ta mistake me fer one'a them what with the pointy ears an' such, lest yer an elf yerself, they always seem ta spot me fer what I am.”

“Daoine Cloch,” Ogrham answered flatly before blowing a cloud of smoke into the air. “The races'a man jus' call us Dwarves though.”

“So, what about Rictor’s sister, Sabine,” Amber asked.

“Tha’s a wee bit complicated,” Ogrham warned her with a stern look. “Best ta leave it be lassy.”

“C’mon, how bad can it be,” Amber pressed the issue. “Does she look like that because of some kind of mutation or magical accident or something?”

“Tiefling, since you are so curious about the issue.” Sabine herself spoke up as she walked into the camp, all present turning their gaze to the red skinned woman as she made her way towards the group with, a heavy air around her. “I am the product of a centuries old pact with demonic creatures and my ancestors in order to bolster their magical powers. Every few generations, seemingly at random, someone is born with a demonic appearance like mine. Red skin, eyes, horns, and in some cases even a tail. As you can imagine, my birth was the source of much gossip within my family’s circles. Thankfully Rictor was lucky as it skipped him and only settled upon me. He was not forced to live up to any of father's high standards, as he clearly lacked any magical aptitude."

She stopped midstride beside Amber and fixed a sharp stare on the mare. "I do hope that delving into my lineage has been enlightening for you."

"She didn't mean noth'in by it Sabine," Frank pleaded. "She ain't from around here after all, an' in 'er shoes I'd be right curious too."

Sabine continued to stare down at the mare who was clearly becoming more and more uncomfortable by the second. She finally turned her nose up at Amber and stomped off towards her tent. Once she was out of sight, the mare let out a long withheld breath. "Okay, that was a lot tenser than I thought it would be."

"Lassy's got'er reasons," Ogrham pointed out before leaning closer to the mare. "See, in order fer the demonic blood ta mix inta the line fer so many generations, the one what summoned the beasty would have had to offer a virgin from within the family. It isn’t some’thin tha any do willingly.”

Amber looked between Sabine’s tent and the now dead silent group. She could feel her stomach starting to turn at the thought of all of this new information running through her head. There have always been stories of Unicorn families that would arrange matches and marriages based on how much stronger their magic would be down the line from the pairing, but this was far beyond that. This was offering up one of their own children, and letting some monster from a dark unholy realm beyond imagining do Goddesses knows what to them. and All in the hopes of producing offspring of a higher caliber. How could someone do that to their own flesh and blood? It churned her stomach at the thought of such a callous and depraved act being performed on a loved one, but most of all she could feel the burn of shame for having pried so deeply into something so close to somepony’s heart.

“So, uh, where are we headed to next?” Amber asked with a nervous smile in hopes of changing the subject.

“Quant lil’ town called Red Fields,” Rourke told her with a forced smile. “Real nice place, think you’ll like it.”

---------------------

Amber used her teeth to tighten the strap of her sword around her barrel, the weapon hanging across her back. It was her prize from the battle the night before and had helped see her through the fight. She smiled inwardly at the reassuring weight of the weapon as it filled her with a sense of some kind of security in this chaotic new world.

All around her the camp was being taken apart so that travel could continue. Since she possessed nothing but this sword, her work load was very light, giving her a bit of time to check on the others as they struck camp. Strolling across the grounds, she eventually found Rictor as he was in the middle of forcing the last of his equipment into his pack. Memories from the previous night began to fill her mind once more, along with a question that had been lingering for some time.

“Rictor, you got a second?” she asked, taking a seat on her haunches beside him.

“What can I do for you Lady Shine?” he replied with a small smile.

"I noticed everypony keeps calling you squire, why's that?"

"It's a silly reason," he told her, with a touch of unease. "You wouldn’t want to hear it."

"C'mon," she pleaded with a hopeful smile. "I won't laugh, I promise."

The young swordsman let a sigh before turning his attention fully to the mare. "Because I wear the tabard of the Silber Drache, Silver Dragons"

"Ooooooookay, next obvious question is, who're they?"

"They were a brotherhood of Paladins."

The pony nodded along with this information and seemed to take it at face value, until... "What's a Paladin?"

Rictor stopped his work and stared dumfounded at the bat mare as if she'd just asked what air was. "You've never heard of a Paladin?"

"It's almost like I've only recently woken up in a strange unfamiliar world with lands and cultures far removed from my own," she replied with no lacking to her sarcastic tone. "How about you educate me on the subject?"

"Well, Paladins are an order of knights. They keep to the code of chivalry and honor as handed down in the teachings of their patron god. The Silver Dragons worshiped the dragon god of justice and protection, Bahamut. In return for their loyalty they were granted a small fraction of his power."

"Okay, that's admittedly pretty impressive," Amber agreed. "So where does the nickname come from?"

"Because like any boy, I grew up wanting nothing more than to join their ranks," he said as a smile weakly tugged at the sides of his mouth.. "It was a dream that my father... my father supported. I had learned the basics of swordsmanship and divine magics." Suddenly, the smile faded from his face. "But dreams... dreams don't always come true."

He slung his pack over his shoulder and rose to leave without so much as another word. Amber watched as he avoided her gaze and trudged on to keep pace with the rest of the group, who were already moving. She could feel an icy lump plop itself down right at the center of her gut. Her ears fell to the sides of her head as an unsettling thought dawned upon her... that she just lost another possible friend.

--------------------

At the crest of a hill, the forest finally gave way to wide open fields and sprawling farmland. In the distance a small collection of houses sat huddled together while plumes of smoke wisped their way from the stone chimneys. The air was filled with the sounds of people talking and the occasional odd farm animal bellowing out a call. From afar, the town seemed like a lovely little village that was nestled beside a babbling stream that encircled the town and ran parallel to a dirt road. Amber and her new travelling companions stood atop the hill that overlooked this tiny town.

A tingle of excitement shot through the mare's body at the thought of getting to see the tiny village up close. This was her chance to see this altogether alien culture up close and hopefully without somepony trying to cut her limbs off. With a happy giggle she started off towards the town as exciting possibilities played out in her head. Maybe she'd start by carousing whatever kind of market this place had, or more likely she'd go straight to the bar and see if she couldn't get somepony to buy the new girl in town a drink. Her thoughts and pace came a swift stop with a tug on her tail. She quickly shot her gaze back to eye the half elf holding it tightly in his hands and fixed him with a critical look.

"What gives," she loudly protested.

"Just a moment lass, we can't have ye run'in about town an' scare'in folks," he told her. "We're going ta disguise ye first, so's the locals can warm up to ye without torches an' pitchforks."

"I'm sorry, but what?" she asked with a deadpan stare.

"Perhaps you had yet to notice but equines in this plane of existence do not speak," Sabine informed her. "Nor do they have such unusual colors, wings jutting from their backs and most importantly, long pointy fangs. My dear, if we were to let you stroll happily down main street unattended the local populace may very well take up arms against the hellspawned pony in their midst."

Amber looked about at her companions for some kind of support on this issue but could see she'd be receiving none. "Ugh, fine, if it gets us into town I'll play along, but whatever you're planning it better be dignified. I'm a member of the Royal Equestrian Guard after all, I protect princesses and junk."

-------------------

Amber's ears were flattened against her scalp and a glare was fixed straight ahead of her as she trotted into town with the rest of her new companions. A rope had been looped around her snout in a makeshift bridle with several supply packs had been strapped to her back. She followed close beside Rictor as he led her along the path towards the town. Quietly, the bat mare fumed with anger at this treatment. A trained-albeit low ranking-member of the Royal Guard was being used as a pack mule. Amber could barely stomach this treatment; she wanted to shout and scream at Rourke for making her into a pack animal. However she knew better than to make a scene. Not in public anyways. She made a mental note of various ways to thank Rourke for putting her through this.

Trying to find something other than blinding anger to focus herself on, Amber's eyes glanced about the town as they strolled through front gate. All around her more of these human creatures milled about with their day to day tasks, many of them carrying on conversations about everything from the war, the weather and the price of chickens. She was starting to suspect that this might be the dominant race in these lands. She wished deeply that she could interact with them, so that she might learn more about this place and what was going on in the world. But she had a sneaking suspicion that Rourke, while more than likely exaggerating, was not far off on how she would be received. The humans struck her as simple folk that lived out their lives according to whatever befell them at the time.

It was then that Amber noticed she wasn't the only one being forced to hide in plain sight. Sabine kept her long dark cloak tightly around herself and the deep hood pulled over her head to hide as much of herself as possible. She couldn't help but notice that the massive Frank kept a close pace beside her, a simple act that brought a subconscious smile to the mare's face.

Eventually their trek through town led them to a small two story building with a set of large windows on either side of the door. Displayed for all the world to see were baskets and trays of various plants, herbs and bottled concoctions. The closer they drew to it, the more Amber could smell the heavy scents of all these things that permeated the air with their thick aroma.

Rourke gave Rictor's side. "Go 'round back an' unload the supplies would ye lad."

"Right away sir," Ricor quickly replied before leading Amber around the building to the back door. He glanced around the area for a brief moment before unlocking the door and ushering the mare inside. "Sorry about, well, all of that."

"It's fine," Amber retorted after spitting the rope out of her mouth. "Not like I'm angry at you anyways."

They had gone from the streets to the dimly lit back room of the shop. It was a rather large room with rows upon rows of shelves that held a variety of plants and bottled ingredients. At the center of the room sat a low burning hearth that kept a pot of bubbling liquid warm. A few rays of sunlight managed to cut their way through the old grime encrusted windows that sat high upon the wall to reveal more of the room. The other thing about this place that Amber had to note was the large number of stools and ladders that were set up near or against many of the shelves.

"So, what's the deal with this place?" She asked.

"An alchemy shop called The Broken Bottle. It's owned by a friend of ours, Kriscaryn Fendlemarsh Silversliver, or Krissy for those who don't have the patience for gnomish names." Rictor replied while kneeling beside her and began to loosen the straps around her body and wings. "It's a sort of safe house for our little band."

Amber jumped in surprise when the young swordsman's hand brushed through the soft fur of her flank and gave him a mock glare. "Watch the hands buddy, most stallions are polite enough to treat me to a date before they go for my cutie mark like that."

Rictor's face became a bright red beacon of embarrassment as he pulled his hands away from her as quickly as he could while he cast his gaze away and to the ground. "I apologize. I was just trying to unload the packs."

Giggling, Amber nudged his chest with her wing while trying to meet his eyesight again. "Relax, I'm just teasing you."

Shooting her a forced glare of his own, he returned to his job of unpacking the part time pack horse. "So, what's this Cutie Mark thing?"

"You guys don't have that here?" Amber asked with surprise. "Well, to sum it up, it's this mark that magically shows up on a pony's flank when they discover what their talent is." She repositioned herself to show hers off to the squire so that he could see the image of broken shield that emblazoned her. She tried hard not to snicker when his face turned a deeper shade of crimson at her antics. Trying not to break into a fit of laughter she wiggled her rear near his face. "Do you see it, it's riiiiiiiiiight on the flank there."

"Y-yes, yes I see it," Rictor quickly replied while keeping his gaze on the wall to the side of him. "You can stop that now."

"You sure, I mean you're not even looking."

With an annoyed grunt, Rictor placed a hand against her midsection and nudged her hind quarters away from him. Amber easily lost her balance and tumbled to the ground. The thestral shook her head clear and quickly fixed her human companion with a devious grin before lunging towards him.

------------------------

At the front of the shop sat a small rather bored looking humanoid. At least, she looked human for the most part. All of her limbs and body parts were well within their proper size. What set her apart, however, was the very small stature of this person. She stood maybe up to a grown man's waist, yet her face and form held no childlike properties to it, appearing to be those of a full grown woman’s. Her pale fair face was framed by several long strands of dull pink hair that managed to escape being pulled back into a bun with the rest of her hair. Unnaturally bright green eyes scanned over a roll of parchment that had been stretched across the counter in front of her. Her slight form was clad in a simple tunic that was already far too large for her, and thusly been turned into a makeshift dress. Her long pointed ears perked up when the bell over the front door chimed, her mood instantly shifted to one of joy and excitement when she saw her latest customers. "Rourke!"

"Krissy," he happily greeted her as the rest of his companions filed in behind him. "How are ye love?"

"Fine as always when friends stop by," she said with a smile. "Hold a tick, where's Rictor?" Her face shifted to a far more vengeful gaze, "If you an' your little trouncing got that boy killed Rourke..."

"Dearest Kriscaryn, if that had been the case he would be a pile of ash scattered to the winds right now," Sabine commented. "My brother took the back entrance in order to sort out our newest employ."

"New employ, ya can barely afford the ones ya have!" she scolded him causing the half elf to flinch away from her in response.

“Ta be fair, she ain’t been hired yet,” Rourke quickly defended.

"So who's this hire?"

As if on cue to answer her question a clatter rose up from the back room along with the sounds of giggling and rough housing. Soon, both Rictor and Amber came tumbling through the door and into the store front. The young man landed on top of the mare's back and pinned her stomach to the ground. He kept an arm against the back of her neck while both legs straddle her sides to keep her wings pinned against her. Though it looked rather painful the two of them were still laughing the entire time. The pair stopped their "horseplay" when they noticed that everyone's eyes were now on them.

“That’d be her,” Rourke said with a wry grin.

---------------------

Sabine was never one to avoid socializing, however she knew that there was work to be done while they had the time to rest. She had volunteered to watch the storefront while her companions regaled Krissy with the story of their latest misadventures. The tiefling woman was more than knowledgeable enough in the uses and purposes of the potions, poultices and herbs that she could easily handle things on her own. Aside from the sounds of laughter and chatter coming from the backroom, she had more than enough peace and quiet to look over the notes they had taken from the keep. She poured herself over the information hidden in the mismatched pages and abandoned theories. The tiefling furrowed her brow and pursed her lips in concentration as she tried to will the answer to come to her.

Her deep studies were brought to a halt by the feeling of a weight coming to rest upon her shoulder. Following the hand to its source, she soon found the imposing figure of Frank standing over her with a warm and somewhat childish smile. Sabine couldn't help but smile back as she reached up and gave his large strong hand a squeeze. He set a cup upon the counter top beside her notes, in his massive hand it looked like a toy.

"Jus' thought ye could use a spot'a company, m'lady," he said bashfully.

Sabine took the cup with a grateful nod. "I am always happy for your companionship, Franklin."

Sabine took a moment to savor the scent of jasmine and various herbs rising from the warm cup of tea while pretending to have not noticed his smile double in size; or the fact that a deep gash of red spread through his cheeks. She regarded him for a moment as she sipped upon her drink. It always struck her as somewhat funny, most men and some women wore armor to not only protect themselves but at times to seem much larger. Without the protective plating encumbering him, Frank still seemed impossibly large and built to match. And yet he was gentle as a lamb and twice as timid.

"So, what's all these papers say anyways?" he asked leaning over her shoulder.

"They appear to me calculations of planar movements across the multiverse," she replied.

"Right, a'course," he agreed with a sagely nod. "So what's that mean?"

She stifled a giggle before replying. "It means that they were waiting for a plane of existence to pass close to ours, that way they could travel to with greater ease."

"Would explain 'ow we got our new friend, but why got to a world full'a talk'in tiny horses?"

"The notes give me little go on beyond one word that comes up from time to time, Alicorn."

"Alicorns," Frank said with a snort. "Those's jus' fairy tales, sorties fer lil tikes to hear when they're go'in to bed. No such thing."

"And yet we are sharing a roof with a pony bat hybrid," Sabine quickly reminded him. "Her world is clearly one that is far removed from our own, a world of talking equines, some of whom have evolved and mutated to posses the wings of bats. Who is to say what may or may not be real for her and her people?"

"S'why do ye think Accossta's look'in for one then? Do ye suppose they're gonna open some kind of zoo'er something?"

"Charming as that thought would be,” she replied with a grin. “But I highly doubt it. If even a fraction of their fabled power is true, then the empire stands to gain much with one of these creatures at their command."

“Not they’d need the power,” he commented sullenly. “Got an army’a mages at their beck’n’call, one’a them Alicorns’d be some nasty powerful overkill.”

“Overkill has always been Grand Magus Rengier’s style though.”

“Glad you’re here then m’lady, this sort’a think’in is far beyond my abilities.

-----------------------

Far from the heartlands of Drechsel and the farms of Red Fields, across the Broken Sea lays the nation of Accossta. Its capital, the city of Calad Caras, stretches from one end of the Broken Fang bay to the other. It was a massive sprawling city of gold and white polished stone nestled by the water and surrounded by tall jagged mountains and tall, strong walls encircling its perimeter. The setting sun glinted off the crystalline surface of the buildings turning it into one giant shining jewel by the sea.

At the heart of this city of light stood the Imperial Palace, standing tall upon the highest point in the city, protected by high strong walls and towers. Statues of Empire’s heroes lined the Emperor’s Road leading to the front gate of the castle. The palace itself was lined with tall polished pillars of stone that lined the walls draped with tapestries of red and white with the burning sun of Accossta emblazoned on them.

Within is a place that only the most elite of Accossta’s high society ever see: the royal gardens. A wide open indoor garden filled to bursting with various plants and foliage from across the globe. The magic that hangs thickly in the air helped to keep the assorted flora from withering and dying outside of their native climates and soil.

One of the few souls present in the garden stood admiring the multicolored petals of a particular batch of flowers. He was tall and slender in build and dressed in finely tailored red and gold silks, a man that had clearly seen very little in the ways of heavy work or fighting. Long raven hair was neatly combed back and from his thin somewhat gaunt face. His two most defining qualities however were the eerie glow of his perfectly blue eyes and his long pointed ears. He only took his attention off the budding nature before him when he heard the sound of footsteps upon the stone walkway that snaked through the garden.

"A report for you, your grace," a lone half elven servant girl informed his as she approached.

He regarded her briefly over his shoulder before motioning to her casually. "Proceed."

"My lord, it would appear that Grand Magus Rengier's expedition into what is left of Drechsel has yielded mixed results," she informed him. "Our agent reports that the artifact was found and the ritual was completed without difficulty. However, his forces were unsuccessful in retrieving the creature and the portal closed upon the Reaper's return to our plane."

"How unfortunate," he said calmly. "Father will not be pleased to hear that, He was so looking forward to having this Alicorn creature."

"Indeed my lord, however there is more to the missive," she continued. "While the fabled Alicorn was not captured, the Reaper did however return with another creature in tow. Some form of servant caste or common guard judging from the way she reportedly garbed and protected the Alicorn. She was taken to the outpost's dungeon for questioning whilst the Grand Magus and his forces left the outpost that night, bound for the capital. It would appear that the outpost was assaulted shortly after their departure."

"How fortunate of them," he said with a soft hint of sarcasm. "It would surely have been a tragedy had the Magus and his prize not escaped in time. And what of this creature?"

"We suspect it is in the hands of the rebels, sire."

"How unfortunate, I do hope those savages treat this being with a fraction of respect. It represents its entire race in a strange new world after all."

-------------------

"So I said to him, Not with that little prick you aren't, and then I bucked him right between the legs," Amber said loudly before falling into a fit of laughter that was soon joined by the rest of the room.

The back area of Krissy's shop had been made more homely with the addition of more wood on the hearth. A fat roasted chicken had been cooked and set out upon the table to feed the weary guests. It had been seasoned to near perfection with chopped mint leaf, parsley, garlic and lemon along with a complement of potatoes, carrots and onions thrown into the pot as well. A collection of misshapen doughy biscuits that had been drizzled with honey and the leftover mint leaf had been served as well. Her stomach was weighed heavily with the first proper meal she'd received since coming to this strange world.

Ogrham had contributed to the small feast a cask of strong, fragrant ale that he affectionately referred to as Sacramental Brew-Amber had taken to simply calling it amazing. Every sip she took loosened every muscle in her body and drowned another inhibition that might have held her in check. She was quickly of the mind that if Dwarves ever made it to Equestria, they would put so many cider makers and breweries out of business selling something of even half the quality of this drink.

A happy warmth filled the mare's chest as she looked around the room. Beside her, Rictor sopped up what juices still remained in his bowl with a biscuit as he listened intently to the guardsmare's stories. His armor and gear had been set off to the side leaving him clad in a simple tunic and pair of slacks. Ogrham, still clad in his thick heavy plates of armor, reclined in his chair with the clatter of his wargear, which the dwarf clearly didn't seem to care or notice. He once again lit his pipe and began taking long draws of smoke into himself before releasing with a relaxed sigh. Across the room, a less armed and armored Rourke sat with a mug of Ogrham's beer in one hand and the other draped around Krissy's waist while she sat upon his leg. The short gnomish woman happily sipped upon her own mug of beer which looked almost comically large in her hands.

"And that's how I ended up getting busted down to glorified library monitor," she concluded her story.

"I'd say ye let 'em off easy, lass," Krissy chimed in with a happy giggle.

"Ye got quite a fire in ye lassy," the dwarf commented between puffs on his pipe. "Ye showed more than a bit’a promise dur’in that fight as well. Can’t say I’ve ever ‘eard of’a pon’eh fight’in like that. Could be useful, Rourke. Ye’d best not let’er get away.”

“Aye,” the half elf agreed. “So how ‘bout it guardswoman, feel like become’in a mercenary?”

She chewed slowly on a mouthful of potatoes in order to buy time while she turned this question over in her head. “Depends,” she finally said and leaned forward to meet him eye to eye. “What’s in it for me?”

A wry grin split Rourke’s mouth. “Oh, I’m start’in ta really like you, Shine. Fer starters, ye’ll have some folks ta protect yer back ‘round here. If ye ain’t noticed yet, things can get a wee bit rough out there. We’ll see to it that ye got some half decent gear ta keep ye alive an’ most importantly you’ll be paid.”

“How much?” she was quick to ask.

“Everyone gets equal shares,” Rourke answered just as quickly. “Everyone pulls their weight an’ we all get paid fer it.” He reached across the table to take the jug of powerful spirit they’d been draining and poured Amber a fresh tankard. “What’d ye say guardswoman?”

“So, you want me to give up on a year's worth of dedication to my country and Princesses and become a mercenary like all of you?”

“Well, if’in ye’d rather, ye can always start walk’in home,” he replied with a smug grin. “After hear'in that story 'bout the magical mirror an' such, I have few small doubts that you'll have an' easy time find'in it. Between the rebels, Accosstans and blood thirsty bandits look'in to have a good time in all this chaos, yer best bet is probably ta stay with us anyways."

Amber kept her eyes locked with Rourke's, neither of them budging or glancing away until the mare finally broke the silence. “I got one more question for ya then,” Amber said. She kept her predatory eyes locked tightly with Rourke’s, a sly smile pulled the edges of her mouth upwards as she reached over and took the tankard in her hooves. “How much did that Fort job earn me?”