“Well,” Blade said, looking out the glass at the moderately busy airship dock around them. Ponies were moving in all directions, assisting one another with heavy loads, or shouting orders to small teams as they went to work refueling the Onset. “What’d you find out?”

“It took a little asking around,” Hain said as he stepped up alongside her, his own gaze peering out through the glass at Spindle Rock’s modest airship facility. “But we’re definitely on the right track.”

“He was here?” She turned her eyes towards the older griffon, watching his response.

“He was,” Hain said, nodding. “It took a few bits to help some hooves slide across the ice, but I got what we needed. Superiority came through here a little over three days ago.”

“So we’re making good time,” Blade said. “That’s good.”

“Better,” Hain said. “They apparently stayed for almost ten hours, taking on a lot of fuel and supplies. A few of the unicorns went around asking questions too, but I couldn’t get anyone to talk about that.”

“And no one else left the ship?”

“Not that they could see,” Hain said. A deep thump resonated through the deck, and Blade looked out the glass to see a team of ponies jumping to the deck alongside a heavy crane hook that had bounced off the ship’s bow. She gave them a scowl, but none of them noticed. They were too busy peeling back the cloth tarp that had been tied over the forward cannon.

“So Anubis was still on board,” she said, watching as the mechanic team began to distribute tools.

“Unless he teleported off and no one saw him,” Hain said. “Though I’m guessing you find that about as likely as I do.”

“Yeah,” Blade said, watching as the first of the heavy bolts securing the massive cannon to the deck was pried loose. “If he didn’t get off and terrorize the populace, then he’s still on the ship.”

“If you want my opinion …” Hain began. She glanced at him and nodded before returning to her vigil. “The fact that he didn’t get off the ship and simply terrify everyone says something about what sort of foe we’re dealing with.”

“A dangerous one,” Blade said. Out on the deck, there were only a few bolts left in place securing the cannon. Two pegasi were already wrapping heavy lifting straps around the sides, preparing the weapon for its removal.

“A smart dangerous one,” Hain said, nodding. “Just based on how he acted in the vault, he enjoys the attention. Yet here, the cult paid for everything rather than simply terrifying everyone into submission. I only heard about that because a few of the ponies I spoke with said it was strange.”

“Really?” Blade asked. “How so?”

“They didn’t bargain,” Hain said, turning to look at her once more. “According to the dockhooves here—and going off of experience in the past—the Order would always try to enforce the lowest possible price, either by threats or just outright theft.”

“And this time they didn’t?” The deck rumbled again underfoot, this time a long, distorted grind as the cannon shifted on its mount, twisting away from the metal that had held it for who knew how long. Several of the workers steadied it, one of them signaling with his wings at the crane operator to lower the weapon back down. She complied, and the straps were adjusted.

“No,” Hain said as the cannon began to lift into the air, spinning gently as it swung out away from the ship. “They paid up front, with no questions asked and only a bit of their usual bluster.”

“Did everyone just associate it with the defeat?” she asked.

“No,” Hain replied. “The news hasn’t made it here yet, and I didn’t tell them. They’ll find out before long, and from someone who’ll make good use of the news.”

She nodded. It was a fair enough reason. Down on the forward deck, the dockhooves were checking over the mount, making sure the weapon’s removal hadn’t had any surprising effects. “So Anubis was keeping them on a tight leash.”

“Most likely,” Hain turned away from the window and dropped himself into the seat by the navigator’s station. “It tells us a little about him though.”

“Like he doesn’t want word getting out too early that he’s out,” Blade said, turning to continue talking with him. “He didn’t mind us knowing, since he had to get out one way or another …”

“But he’s not making any grand gestures just yet,” Hain finished. “I agree. As near as I can tell, no one in town had any idea that he’d been here. And there weren’t any of the obvious signs of memory tampering either, so the cult didn’t try it that I could see.”

“That’d work?” she asked, surprised.

“Not for long,” he said. “Short term, sure. Or with constant reinforcement. But even then, even if the magic is really good you start to see odd cracks, and I didn’t see any of those.”

“Right,” she said. “Anything else?”

He shook his head. “No. None of the ponies I spoke with around town knew where the ship was going or even what the heading was past ‘east.’”

“Not that helpful then,” she said.

“No,” he said, stretching his forelegs out and yawning. “Aside from knowing that our opponent is playing things soft at the moment.”

“Well, hopefully he’s not being so soft that we can’t catch him,” she said, sitting.

“Agreed.” Hain looked out the window again, out at the docks. “Frost and Alchemy said anything yet?”

“No,” Blade said, shaking her head. “Frost is still out checking her contacts, and Alchemy’s overseeing the dockhooves checking on the boiler and engine. Did you get the supplies ordered?”

“I did,” Hain said. “Hopefully you got a good deal with that cannon, because I got us some luxury items.”

“Oh?” She cocked her head in his direction, her taste buds salivating as several meals rushed to the forefront of her mind. “Like what?”

“Fresh meat, for starters,” the older griffon said. “Chicken and rabbit.”

“Now that I value almost as much as hearing we’re still on track following Anubis,” Blade said, trying not to drool as she let her shoulders slide downward in relaxation. “Fresh meat? I’d almost be willing to sell a chunk of the ship for that.”

“We did,” Hain said, jerking his head towards the empty mount where the cannon had sat.

“You know what I mean,” she said, scowling at him. “The gun won’t be any help, so we might as well sell it. How much meat did you get?”

“Four chickens and six rabbits,” Hain said. “It wasn’t cheap, but the butcher’ll deliver them fresh in another hour or two. Then we can freeze them or eat them, your call.”

“We eat some of them,” Blade said, letting out a satisfied sigh as her stomach rumbled. “I’ve had enough frozen or cured meat to last me a while.”

“Same here,” Hain said with a nod. “Also, I picked up a bunch of the standard stuff. Potatoes, dried veggies, oats.”

“The usual fare then.”

“Yeah. I didn’t know how long we’d be using the Onset, so they’re going to supply us pretty well.”

She shrugged. “If we don’t end up needing it, we can just add it into whatever happens to the ship.”

Hoofsteps echoed up from the hall, and Blade looked over to see Frost walk onto the bridge. The mare looked almost normal without her bow, though the hard look on her face certainly didn’t do much to add to the effect. Still, with a pair of plain looking saddlebags thrown over her sides and without her usual weapon, the mare could have passed for a regular unicorn having a lousy day.

“Any luck?” Blade asked as Frost came to a stop. The mare shook her head.

“Unfortunately, no,” she said, scowling. “The cult came, purchased its goods, and was gone after a brief stay to resupply. None of their usual bluster or bullying.”

“Hain was saying the same thing,” Blade said. “They didn’t even bother pushing for low prices.”

“I heard that as well,” Frost said. “Also, several of my contacts did imply that there was something unusual about the way they were acting.”

“Oh?” Blade said, glancing at Hain that then back at Frost. “How so?”

“They said that a number of them seemed distracted. Short tempered; irritable. Moreso than usual,” Frost replied. “They also didn’t spend much time in town; they were in, refueled and out as quickly as they could acquire their supplies.”

“More interesting, and perhaps more telling,” she said. “Sagis himself actually came out to shout at the dock crew, and sent several mages to assist when they didn’t move fast enough.”

“Assist?” Hain asked, lifting an eyebrow. “Or take over?”

“Assist,” Frost repeated with a nod. “Completely out of character for them. Several of my contacts wanted to know what was going on.”

“Did you tell them?” Blade asked.

Frost shook her head, her mane cascading around her shoulders. “Of course not. I’ve found my informants are better served by knowing as little as possible so they can more accurately feign ignorance if questioned.”

“Good,” Blade said with a nod. “What’s your take on it?”

“Anubis—” The word came out like a curse, “—is running things. Keeping them on a tight leash.”

Blade nodded. “We were coming to the same conclusion,” she said. “He’s keeping himself to the shadows and playing things carefully.”

“And quickly, I would think,” Hain added. “Pushing the cult to act like that is bound to raise some eyebrows.”

“But not too many,” Blade said. She turned back towards Frost. “Did your spies notice anything else out of the ordinary? Strange magic use? Walking skeletons?”

Frost paused. “There was one thing. One of my contacts was working the airship docks that day, though he wasn’t assigned to service the ship. But he did mention that one of his friends said that they weren’t actually allowed to go on the ship, but he was fine with it because it, and I quote, ‘creeped him out.’”

“Did they let anyone else on?” Blade asked. “Or did anyone else get the same feeling?”

“He didn’t know,” Frost said. “He didn’t think it was important, since most sapients around here try to avoid the cult anyway.”

“And there weren’t any Bloodhooves around?”

Frost shook her head. “They buy goods here, but they don’t stick around. According to my contacts, they haven’t been around for at least two weeks.”

“So no troubles there.”

“No.”

Blade nodded as she rose and walked back over to the window, looking out over the docks and watching the dockhooves work. Hopefully they’d be back in the air soon. The less time we spend sitting here, the more time we save catching up to Anubis. The few days it had taken them to reach Spindle Rock had, according to what they’d learned, already given the immortal an extra day’s lead. If we could cut that down by six or seven hours, that’d be six or seven hours less chance for him to disappear.

Hopefully Alchemy would get something out of the dock crews. While she’d been figuring out what they could afford to strip and sell from their appropriated ship and Frost and Hain had been out gathering information and supplies, Alchemy’s job had been to work with the dockhoof crews to oversee the refueling of the Onset as well as see what sort of information he could pry out of them.

Something like a heading would be perfect, Blade thought as she watched a trio of ponies wind up a stiff, heavy hose—probably fuel or water supply. There’s only so many places he can go from here, and if he keeps in a straight line …

It was a big if, but at the same time, she had a feeling the immortal was arrogant enough that he didn’t care. Not getting his name out was one thing, but being in fast airship and with no one to stop him, a straight line was his best option.

But where is he headed? she wondered. And why? Maybe he wasn’t heading anywhere specific in particular. Maybe he was just running for the sake of running, moving until he could put some distance between himself and anyone who might be interested in his release so that he could go to ground.

Then again, that’d be hard for him to do, she thought as she watched another crane swing away from the side of the ship, this one with two of the ship’s rear ballistas attached to it. If he’s been sealed in that prison of his for over a thousand years, how would he know where to hide?

Something felt off about her line of thought, and she caught herself. He didn’t call it a prison, did he? What was it he said? That he’d sealed himself in it?

Why would an immortal lock himself away like that? And for what?

A wooden knock echoed through the bridge, and she turned to see one of the dock forecolts, a green earth pony wearing a yellow hardhat, standing by the entrance to the bridge. A work harness full of tools was slung across his back, blocking her from being able to pick out his cutie mark. Probably something carpentry or airship related, she thought.

“Permission to come in, Captain?” he asked.

Blade nodded. “How’s it going?” she asked as the earth pony trotted onto the bridge. “Anything we need to know?”

The forecolt nodded as he came to a stop. “Yeah,” he said, reaching behind towards his work harness and pulling out a small clipboard. “A couple of issues, though nothing too big. Your water is topped off, both for the boilers and for drinking. The fuel should be done soon, though as a bit of a warning, you probably burned more than you needed getting here, judging from the levels.” He lifted an eyebrow at her, as if inviting her to say something in that regard, but she stayed silent.

“Let’s see,” he said, looking back down at his clipboard and flipping to the second page. “There was quite a bit of damage to the stern quarter of the ship, specifically the starboard side near one of the prop-shafts, but nothing that would impair the function of the ship in anyway, provided you don’t feel like using one of those storage spaces.” He glanced up at her. “We could have it fixed in a couple of hours, if you’d like.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “If it isn’t going to impair the ship, we’re going to get it fixed later.”

“Your call, lady,” the forecolt said. “We did notice though, that a lot of the damage looks like battle damage. You guys have a run-in with pirates?”

“After a fashion,” Blade said, nodding. It was true enough. They just hadn’t been the owners of the ship when it had happened. The stallion tilted his head, as if waiting for her to elaborate.

“What’s next?” she asked, and he turned back down to his clipboard, disappointment on his face.

“Well, you did run your boilers a little hot getting here,” he said. “Actually, you ran everything a little hot getting here. From the look of it, you were really pushing the engine.”

“Is it a problem?” Blade asked.

“Well, no,” the pony admitted, shaking his head. “The whole thing can take it, you’re just going to burn more fuel and water than you would normally. Plus, it’ll put wear and tear on the mechanics. Our boys looked over it like you wanted us to, and the whole rig is in good shape—you’ve been taking care of it, that much is clear—but if you run it like this all the time, it’ll need maintenance soon enough.”

“How soon?”

“Hard to say,” the pony said, scratching the side of his head. “Two weeks? Maybe three? That’s only if nothing breaks, mind,” he said. “We’ve gone over everything major, but we still might have missed something. For the kind of running you’re doing, most of these parts just aren’t qualified or expected to last long.”

There was another thump from beyond the bridge, and Blade looked away from the forecolt to see Alchemy step onto the bridge, shaking his body against what was probably a cold, outside chill. “They’re almost done,” he announced, nodding at each of them. “The fuel’s just getting topped off, they have one more spot on the envelope they want to check, and the food delivery just arrived, but we’re ready to fly outside of that.”

“Glad to hear it,” Blade said. “We were just talking about that with, uh—” She glanced back at the hardhat-wearing pony. “Sorry, what was your name, again?”

“Moss Pines,” the forecolt said. “Either-or is fine.”

“Moss, here,” Blade said, looking back at Alchemy. “He says we’ll need to keep a closer eye on the boiler and … Well, all that stuff,” she finished. “Apparently we’re running it a little hard.”

“Dockhooves said the same thing,” Alchemy said, moving up to the front of the bridge and taking a quick look out the front windows. Then he shot the forecolt a grin. “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of her.”

“Right,” Moss said, nodding. Apparently the answer was good enough for the earth pony, though, because he flipped his chart to the next page.

“Aside from that, then,” he said, reading a few lines and then looking up. “You’re full on liftgas, just like you requested, and your account has been credited the payment for the weapons and parts you sold us, at the agreed-on prices.” Blade caught a faint grumble in his voice as he spoke, and she had to hold back the urge to smile. She’d bargained hard.

“We’ll be subtracting the cost of your food and fuel, as well as any maintenance,” the forecolt said. “But that’ll still leave you with a net payment to collect, which you can pick up at the airdock office anytime.” He flipped the pages of the clipboard back into place and gave them a polite nod. “Other than that, I think we’re all square, unless you’ve got anything else for us to check out. Or the envelope crews find something that needs to be looked at.”

“No,” Blade said, shaking her head as the stallion placed the clipboard back into his bags. “That’s everything we needed. Thanks.”

“Welcome,” the forecolt said, giving them each a nod. “And güvenli yolculuklar.”

“Thanks,” Blade called as the forecolt turned and excused himself from the bridge. Then she looked toward the rest of the team. “Well, I guess that’s good news then.” Alchemy was still smiling, and she looked at him as she phrased her next question. “Any idea how long that envelope crew will take?”

“Not much longer,” Alchemy said, still grinning. She could see the excited look of accomplishment in his eyes.

I’ll have to ask if he looked that excited while out gathering information with the dock hooves, she thought as she looked down at the earth pony. Then again, he has a sort of innocent way about him. Maybe it’s in his favor.

“So,” she said, walking over to the bridge door and sliding it closed. Just in case someone’s still aboard. “I’m guessing you found something out?”

Alchemy nodded. “Yes,” he said. “Some interesting stuff. Like the fact that the dock hooves didn’t have much contact with the ship.”

Blade nodded. “Frost said the same, so that’s a second correlation with that one.”

“Right, right,” Alchemy said. He didn’t seem too surprised by the revelation. “What about the fact that the ship made them uneasy?”

“One of my contacts mentioned that as well,” Frost said. “The Order has a tendency to do that, even when acting unusual.”

“No,” Alchemy said, shaking his head. “I don’t mean like that. I mean afraid.”

Blade felt the feathers of her ruff rise slightly and she leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. She hadn’t heard that yet. “What do you mean by afraid?” she asked.

“I mean spooked,” Alchemy said. “And not by the cult. There were a few workers I talked to who were genuinely scared by it. They said anytime they got near the ship, even if they were working on something else nearby, they couldn’t help but feel afraid of it. One of them said it was like a ‘creeping dread’ that cropped up anytime she was near the Superiority, even if she was just passing by.”

“Okay,” Hain said. “That’s interesting.”

“Agreed,” Frost said. “It sounds very similar to the fear effect that we experienced when we were in the vault.” Her voice lifted a notch as she said the word “vault,” almost croaking but quickly regaining composure.

“That’s what I thought,” Alchemy said. “It sounds like our quarry wanted to make sure everypony stayed a good distance back from his boat.”

“Maybe,” Blade said, the group’s eyes switching to her as she spoke up. “It might not be though. Or that could just be a side benefit. He could be using it as a bit of suggestion on his own crew as well.” She looked over towards Frost. “Didn’t you say that your contacts reported the cult being unusually …” She searched for the right word. “Distracted? Mellow?”

Frost nodded. “They did.”

“Subtle reinforcement of who’s in charge,” Hain said. “Keep them slightly afraid, make sure that they know who the real boss is. Rule through fear and intimidation.”

“That actually lines up with what tiny bit I recall reading about Anubis from the history books,” Blade said. “Not that I remember much, but he was supposed to be pretty good at keeping control of his followers with a variety of methods.”

“Fear and intimidation?” Hain asked.

“Among other things,” she said, shaking her head. “I can’t remember most of it, since I was interested in reading about other things. But Anubis was definitely a dangerous operator. I know he had something to do with a number of military campaigns against the Plainslands, but other than that …” She shrugged. “Ancient history.”

“Well, that wasn’t all I got out of the dockhooves,” Alchemy said. “One of them mentioned that he’d overheard a few of the crew talking about someone that seemed to be ordering Sagis around. They didn’t like it.”

“Did he hear anything else?”

Alchemy shook his head. “No. And he didn’t want to, either. He came up with an excuse to vanish before either of them noticed he was around.”

“I don’t blame him,” Blade said. Still, it was good news. “So Anubis is still on board, then. That confirms it.”

“Wait,” Alchemy said, a satisfied smile on his face. “I’ve got one more bit of info. And it’s a good one.”

“Saved the best for last?” Frost asked.

He nodded. “Yeah. It took some doing, but I got a heading from—”

“You what?” Blade said, her wings flaring out. “You know where they’re going?”

“Roughly,” Alchemy said. “It’s kind of hazy. I had to put together a few things.”

“Then spill,” Hain said. “Where are they going, and how do you know?”

“Because another worker overheard one of the cult members asking about incoming ships. Specifically, they wanted to know how many ships were coming in and what routes they usually followed. Combine that with the amount of fuel they took on, and there’s really only one place they could be going.” Blade had a feeling she already knew what it was.

“The Empire,” Alchemy finished, and Blade’s stomach fell. “They asked after the common trade routes, took enough fuel and food to make it well past the border, and then headed off towards the southeast.”

“Well … that’s unfortunate,” Hain said before any of them could say anything, his shoulders slumping. “I was worried that might be where he’d end up.”

Don’t you dare, Blade thought as she turned to look at the old griffon. Don’t say it.

“In light of that,” Hain said. “I’m afraid that I—”

Someone knocked on the bridge door, and Hain’s words shifted immediately. “—with the new food, we should be able to go a ways. Someone get that, would you?”

Blade nodded and stepped over to the door, noting the confused look that Alchemy was giving Hain. Tips and tricks, Alchemy, she thought as she slid the door open. One of the dock workers was standing there, eyeing her expectantly. If you just stop talking, sapients start paying attention. Switch what you’re saying to something bland, though … “Yes?” she asked as she looked down at the dockhoof.

“You’re ready to go whenever you want,” the dockhoof said, glancing past her at the rest of the bridge. “The envelope is good, and all the tanks have been topped off. Bill’s been settled too. The forecolt wanted me to remind you not to forget to pick your payment up before you left.”

“I … Can you bring it to us?” Blade asked, glancing back at the rest of the room. “Pick it up for us?” The dockhoof nodded.

“Okay, do that,” Blade said, giving him a quick nod in return. “We’ll be out of your hooves and on our way after that.” The pony nodded, turning away as she began to shut the door, but then she paused.

“Hold up a second,” she said. The stallion froze. “Can we get some maps, directions to the Griffon Empire? Good routes? Fast, if possible? I don’t know if we have any maps, and anything we can do to make our journey faster …”

“I’ll see what I can do,” the pony said with a nod before moving away.

“Right,” Blade said, sliding the door shut. That takes care of one potential problem. Now she just had to deal with another.

Hain was already rising as she turned to face the rest of the bridge. “Sit down,” she told him, fixing him with a stern glare.

“As I was saying,” he said, ignoring her order. “Seeing as we’re definitely heading to the Empire—”

“Hain …” she said, her tone warning. “Don’t you dare do it.”

“Do what?” Frost asked.

“Quit,” Alchemy said. “He’s an exile.”

“I’m sorry,” Hain said, shaking his head. “I really am.”

I can’t let him quit, Blade thought as she watched the old griffon square his shoulders and turn to face her. We need his tactical expertise and experience.

She’d been hoping that it wouldn’t come to this. That Anubis would be heading anywhere but her homeland. But since he was … There was only one thing she could try, one card she could play that would change his mind.

“I’m sorry,” Hain said, shaking his head, his expression long. “But as an exile, I can’t—”

“I invoke the right of command,” Blade said, and Hain’s words stopped.

“You what?” he asked, looking at her in surprise.

“You heard me,” she said, her heart beating in her chest. “I invoke the right of command.”

Hain’s eyes widened, his beak opening in shock. “Blade,” he said slowly. “You are aware—?”

“I am well aware,” she said, putting every bit of force into her voice that she could muster. “I’m invoking the right of command.”

“What’s the right of command?” Alchemy asked.

“An honor code,” Hain said, his eyes still fixed on her. “It means that the invoker takes full responsibility for their command’s actions, good or bad. It’s the part of a contract that means the one working under it can follow orders without fear of reprisal, as the responsibility is placed upon their commander.”

“Which means?” Alchemy asked.

“I’m an exile,” Hain said, his eyes still locked with hers and his words coming slowly, as if he didn’t believe she understood the full extent of what she’d just done. “Which means that I am never to return to the Empire, under the severest of penalties. What Blade’s just done is taken responsibility for that. So if we go into the Empire, and we’re caught, I’ll be set free. And Blade, as my commander, assumes the full penalty for my punishment.” His eyes narrowed as he looked at her.

“Which is death.”

“I invoke the right of command,” she said again, spreading her wings and digging her talons into the deck. “I accept full—”

“Blade,” Hain said, shaking his head ever so slightly from side to side. “You don’t have to do this. There are other commanders—”

“With your experience?” she asked, stepping forward in an almost slow, predatory crawl. “With your claws-on knowledge of who we’re hunting?” She came to a stop, her face just a scarce foot from his, her eyes still locked with his, searching their depths for any signs of hesitation. “We need you, Hain.”

“Death, Blade,” he said, his brown eyes staring back at her with equal ferocity. “If you’re going to go through with this, then I’ll follow. But they will kill you.”

“Only if they catch me,” she said, giving him a faint smirk at the words. “I’m on job just like you. Are you ready to follow it to the end?”

“I am,” he said, nodding.

“Then I invoke the right of command,” she said, a faint flame burning in her chest as she spoke. “Whatever punishments you face from here on out in pursuit of my orders, they fall to me in full responsibility, payment, and record. And I order you to accompany us to the Griffon Empire. Do you accept these orders?”

For a few moments the room was silent as they stared at one another, and then Hain nodded.

“I do,” he said, taking a step back. “And I’ll follow your orders ... commander.”

“Good,” she said, returning his nod. “Then it’s settled.” She looked over towards Alchemy and Frost. “Get the ship ready,” she said, turning towards the center of the bridge. “Fire the boilers up, and make sure we’re ready to go as quickly as possible. As soon as that dockhoof gets back with the charts I asked for, we’re going to plot the fastest course for the border possible.”

She took up position by the helm, looking at each member of the team one after the other; her shoulders square, fire burning in her chest. “Any questions?”

One by one they shook their heads. “Good,” she said. “Then let’s get moving and get this ship back in the air. If Anubis is heading for the Empire, then that’s where we’re going.”

“And one way or another, we’re going to stop him.”

“The engines are good, captain,” Frost said as she stepped onto the bridge. Blade was standing at the navigation desk, her back to the door as she and Hain poured over the charts they’d acquired at Spindle Rock. Both griffons looked up, Hain just to make casual eye contact, Blade to actually address her.

“Good to hear, Frost,” Blade said, glancing back down at the charts and marking a spot with one talon before looking back up at her. “But I’m not a captain. Or even the captain.”

Frost nodded and stepped onto the bridge. The helm was abandoned at the moment, the airship running on autopilot. Either Alchemy had stepped out, or Blade and Hain had assigned him to do something else. However, the skies outside the airship were clear, so it wasn’t likely to affect their journey unless something unexpected happened, and both griffons were on hoof should that occur.

“Commander, then,” she said, stopping a few feet away from the navigation desk and getting a slightly better view of the charts spread across its surface. She could see thick, heavy lines denoting the most common airstreams and travel routes, along with altitude annotations and other navigational information. She knew the basics of how to read them, though she’d always preferred the more grounded form of travel with her own ship.

“Just Blade is fine.”

“Very well,” Frost said, giving her a slight nod. “In any case, everything appears to be running smoothly. We should check on it more regularly than we have been, but other than that it should be sufficient for our needs.”

“We’ll see,” Blade said, turning back towards Hain. “We’re going to make this trip as fast as possible, so we’re definitely going to be pushing things a little.”

Frost nodded and opted to stay silent as the griffon ran her talons over the map, making a chain of connections from airstream to airstream. The route that was being outlined seemed to take them more eastward than she expected, and judging from Hain’s look, he was thinking the same way.

“That route runs out here,” he said, tapping at the chart. “It leaves a lot of dead air to cover from the middle of that territory, possibly without information. I doubt Anubis is going to take that route.”

“No, of course he won’t,” Blade said. “In all likelihood, he’ll take one of these three.” She ran one talon across the paper, marking three separate trade routes. “They’re the most direct.”

“Then why wouldn’t we take one of those?” Hain asked. Frost nodded in agreement, it was a valid question.

“Because we’re not going to catch up to him regardless,” Blade said, looking up at Hain. “He’s in a faster ship, and no matter how fast we get to the Empire, he’s going to have a several day head start on us.”

“So?” Frost asked.

“So we need an alternative,” Blade said, tapping the map once more. “And one thing these charts don’t show is the rail network. Which is …?” She let the words hang in the air.

“Much faster than most airships,” Hain said, nodding. “I see your point.”

A train, huh? Frost thought, eyeing the chart. Interesting. She’d never actually been on a train before. I wonder what that’s like? Barnabas had told her about them.

A bolt of ice shot through her chest at the thought of her brother, a hollow, painful void exploding inside her like a shattered mirror. She stiffened, her lips tightening as she forced the emotions down; refused to let any of them reach the surface.

Your talent is ice, Frost, she told herself as the hollow void in her heart began to subside. You can freeze this too. There was a time and a place to grieve. On the bridge of an airship, in public view, was not the place.

“Frost?” The voice pulled her away from her thoughts, focusing her attention outward. Blade was looking at her, an expression of concern on her face. “You okay?”

She pulled in a breath. “Just thinking,” she said. “I’ve never been on a train before.”

“Right,” Blade said, nodding, though there was a sceptical look in her eyes, like she didn’t quite believe her. “Well, I promise that we’ll try our best to not have to hijack this one. Then you’ll at least get the normal experience.”

“That still doesn’t answer my question,” Hain said. “Traveling fast is one thing, but we need to know where he’s going.”

“That part’s easy,” Blade said, tapping the map. “The border guard will pick up anyone attempting to cross into Empire airspace and fill out a travel invoice. For something like an airship, that’s hard to miss. All we’ll need to do is contact someone that will have access to that information, and we’ll have a rough estimation of their route.”

“And what’s to stop them from lying?” Frost asked. “It doesn’t seem like they’d have any reason to hold to whatever plan they laid out.”

Blade let out a laugh. “That might fly on the Ocean,” she said, smirking as she looked at her. “But not in the Empire. If you’re intruding on clan territory, not to mention the Empire’s, and you deviate from what’s expected, you get an inquiry. A military inquiry.”

“And that’d stop Anubis?”

Blade grinned. “Trust me. Even if he can scare away ships like he did back at the Vault, he’s not going to be able to scare away as many ships as we’ve got.”

“So then why don’t we just tell them where he is and let the Empire handle it?”

“Politics,” Hain said. “If the Empire opened fire on an airship just for containing an immortal, well … They can’t do that.”

“He murdered my brother,” Frost said. She could feel her talent surging as she spoke the words, a chill running down her back and across her sides.

“In a lawless territory that the Empire has no jurisdiction nor extradition agreements with,” Hain said, his face impassive. “As long as Anubis respects the laws of clans and the Empire, the Empire will respect his actions inside its borders.”

“But ...” She wanted to lash out. The cold, icy feeling in her chest was so cool it burned now, a chilling fire that begged for release.

“And we can’t simply go to the authorities with our story,” Blade cut in. “Obviously, Hain’s a bit of a problem there, and even if we could convince them he was up to no good, he could just go underground anyway.”

She seized at the lifeline. “Won’t he do that anyway?”

“Only if he ditches his ship,” Blade said. “And to do that, he needs to go someplace first. If he does it along the way, the Empire will start looking for him, and I’m sure whatever he has planned probably won’t work as well with an official investigation looking into things.”

“There are always rules,” Hain said. “Especially in the Empire. On the one talon, this means that we have to play within them. Well, as close as we can unless we want trouble. On the other …”

“Anubis is limited as well,” Frost said, forcing the cold burning in her chest to subside. “Very well. Do you need me for anything else at the moment?”

“Well, no,” Blade said, her eyes widening in surprise, probably in surprise at the sudden shift in tone. “But if you want to stick around and help plan—”

She shook her head. “No thank you. This lies outside the realm of my experience. I would prefer to return to my quarters and continue working on one of my new spells.” She took a small step backwards and gave the pair of griffons a quick tilt of her head.

“Well,” Blade said, her eyes darting towards Hain. “All right. Good luck, or whatever you need. Just don’t forget to check the mechanicals every few hours.”

“I won’t.” She gave them both another quick nod before turning and trotting off the bridge. Behind her, she could hear their voices pick up again, though about what she wasn’t certain. Maybe they were discussing more of their plans concerning what to do when they reached the Empire.

Or maybe they’re discussing you, some part of her suggested as she made her way down to the lower levels of the airship. Your brother isn’t around anymore to take the edge off, you know. The thought stung, but she knew it was true. Barns had always been better with others. Much better. He could talk to them, joke with them … He knew—no, had known—how to deal with sapients.

You, on the other hoof, don’t. She crossed through the galley and into the ship’s main hallway, a narrow, brightly lit affair that offered access to both the crew quarters, head, and the boiler room at the rear of the ship. And where does that leave you?

She slid the door to her small room open and stepped inside, thankful that she hadn’t run into Alchemy along the way. She could feel the ice-cold mask she’d clamped down on her emotions starting to crack, jagged lines carving their way through her heart. A twitch from her horn shut the door, and she sank to the ground, her body shaking as the wall she’d built broke once again.

What are you going to do? she thought, hot tears breaking free from the corners of her eyes and spilling down her face. Her sobs were silent, heaving. No one else would hear them. Especially not this close to the distant steam-fed rumble of the ship’s mechanicals. Barns is gone.

Barns. Aeliana. Her parents. One by one plucked from her life like a dust-filled chunk of ice from the ocean. Barns had always been the one to sweeten the deals. He’d always been there to make sure she had what she needed.

All I had to do was pay the cult back for taking Aeliana and my parents from us. Barns had handled everything else.

Now he was gone. Dead. Just like everyone else she’d ever been close to. And all because of one unicorn.

Sagis. She squeezed her eyes shut as the image of the red unicorn flashed across her mind. He’d been the one to order the purge of Greyhost. He’d been the one who’d killed Aeliana. And he’d been the one who had released the immortal who’d killed her brother.

Something cracked and her eyes snapped open. A thin sheet of ice was forming across the wooden floor, spreading out from beneath where her body was lying. She shook her head and focused, pulling the ice back in and bringing it together into one small, solitary piece. Another moment’s thought and it reshaped itself, the ice melting and coming back together in a reasonable facsimile of Sagis. She set it down on the ground, the purple glow around her horn winking out. Then she stood, and with one swift moment brought her hoof down on top of the small sculpture. The resulting crack, followed by the sound of the pieces scattering across her small berth, felt good … in a grim sort of way.

But the feeling vanished all too quickly, replaced by the void of emptiness that had been howling inside of her ever since her brother had died. She sank to the deck again, eyeing the scattered bits of ice spread across the floor. She’d have to dispose of them before they melted into the wood.

Someone knocked at her door and she jerked, her entire body locking at the intrusion. She forced herself to calm, shut her eyes as she told her body to relax, and cleared her throat.

“Yes?” she called out. Hopefully her voice didn’t sound out of place.

“Frost?” She recognized the voice. It was Alchemy. “I heard something odd. Are you alright? Did something break?”

“I’m fine,” she said. It wasn’t a lie, exactly. The question hadn’t been directed toward her emotional state, surely. “Just working with ice.”

“Oh, okay.” She frowned. It was hard to judge emotions through a door. “Should I be worried?”

Yes, she thought, but again not quite in relation to what he’d been asking about. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “You’ll probably hear more of them.” Especially if I start working on something useful rather than sitting here feeling sorry for myself. “Nothing to worry about.”

There was no response, and for a moment she wondered if he’d simply take her at her word and wandered off without comment. Then his voice rang through the door.

“All right,” he said, though there was a hesitation in the way he said it, like he didn’t believe her. That was fine. She didn’t believe herself either. “Well, I need to get back to the helm.” There was a shuffling sound outside the door, as if somepony had started to walk away but then caught himself. “And Frost?” he said.

“Yes?” The response came out harsher than she meant, and she twitched her ears in irritation. Don’t.

“Look … I … About your brother …” His words died off for a moment, his voice trailing. Then they came back in force. “He was a good friend. To everyone. If you ever want to talk about it … I mean, I know I was being trained as a shaman, but even past that, if you ever want to talk about him, well … I’d be all right with that.”

“Noted,” she said, wincing as the harsh response left her lips. Was she really so callous? “I mean …” A cough as she cleared her throat. “I understand.”

“Okay,” Alchemy said. “Good luck with your practice.”

She stayed silent as he wandered away, her pain momentarily forgotten but still present as his hoofsteps slowly faded.

His heart is in the right place, she thought, putting her back towards the door once more. And where’s yours? She didn’t want to think of an answer.

She lit her horn, closing her eyes and focusing her emotions, trying to settle them to a calm as she summoned magic from within her. A calm mind, a steady emotional state … those were key to using magic. Emotions could have … unforeseen effects. Possibly dangerous ones. It was one of the reasons the cult used so much anger and fear in their own magics—to fuel them.

She wouldn’t be one of them. She had to keep tight control, keep her emotions from leaking into her magic. She needed to be strong.

She felt her magic come together, swirling around her side, but already she could feel that something was wrong. Too much of her emotion had gotten mixed into it. The delicate, crystalline shape of the ice, normally so clear and precise inside her mind, was twisting, breaking. She opened her eyes, looking back at her flank as she let the magic dissipate. The goal had been to produce an enhanced version of her ice armor, one with a reactionary element similar to her splintering arrows.

The result was something that couldn’t even have been considered ordinary armor. It was murky, riddled with light and dark patches where the hardness was inconsistent. It was worthless. She kicked it away with her hoof, scowling as it slid across the deck.

It was no use. Her emotions were too volatile at the moment. I need to calm. I need to collect my thoughts. I need to … She closed her eyes once more. Barnabas … What am I going to do without you?

More tears came, though this time the sobs weren’t quite as silent. The only comfort she could find in the sound was that there was no one around to hear it.

She wasn’t sure how long she laid there, her cheeks growing wet as she buried her head in her hooves. She wanted her brother back. She wanted to hear him laugh again. To hear him chide her for her hard-edged approach to things. To hear him shout at the children in Cragtooth Heights.

He wasn’t coming back.

Her parents. Aeliana. And now him. It wasn’t fair. Everyone she’d known. Barnabas had told her once that death wasn’t the end, that he knew he’d be able to laugh with Aeliana again. Frost wasn’t sure she believed it.

But right now, she really wanted to. Otherwise, what did she have to look forward to?

She lifted her head from the deck, eyeing the wet marks her tears had made on the wood. The bits of ice she’d made earlier were slowly spreading into a puddle, and she lifted them without a thought, refreezing them once more and leaving water-stained marks on the deck, shadows to her own creations.

Her eyes drifted over to her bags, thrown across one of the room’s two berths, and she focused in on a single pocket. A slight twitch of her horn, and it opened, a single sheet of paper sliding out. She lifted it, unfolded it, and began to read the long, flowing script written along its surface.

Frost, the letter read. You probably don’t want to know how many of these I’ve written over the years. Every time I wondered if one of us wasn’t going to make it, every time things looked bad, I’ve had one of these in my pocket or in my gear, waiting for you to find it. Maybe it’s just because I can’t find the strength to say the things that I need to say, or maybe it’s because I worry.

That’s right, I worry about you, sis. I always have, even when you were little and it was just Aeliana and I doing our best to help a scared, scattered little filly who learned about the dark side of the world long before she ever should have been exposed to it.

But I worry about you now, too, Frost. It seems like every day you get harder and harder, and I’ll admit, it scares me because I don’t know what to do about it. Aeliana might have known what to do, but she’s not here anymore, and I worry that if I go to join her, you’ll be lost and on your own. If you aren’t already—sometimes it’s hard to tell, and that scares me.

I always tried to be the best brother I could for you, Frost. I tried to do what I could in my own way. I only wanted the best of life for both of us, which is why I’m writing this now. If you’re reading this, then that means that I’m dead. Maybe a cultist got lucky, or maybe I just slipped up and did something foolish that I shouldn’t have done. But whatever the reason, it means I’m no longer around to help you.

And I’m sorry. Believe me, Frost, I’m sorry. If I’m gone, know that I miss you, and I love you as strongly as anyone ever could, and I’m sorry that I’m not there anymore.

If I’m gone though, then I have something I need to say. One last bit of brotherly advice that I’m only telling you because I love you.

Stop. Leave the Ocean. Forget about the cult. Don’t let revenge for what they did to your parents, and to Aeliana, and probably to me become the fixation of your life. I love you, Frost, but there’s more to you than being a killer. There’s a life past the borders of the Ocean. A life past piracy.

I know you always let me handle the money we made on jobs, and it’s about time I told you what I did with it. Most of it, we spent—running the Arrow wasn’t cheap. But some of it, I saved. I bought bonds. Stocks. Investments. It’s not much, but it’s enough. Go to Equestria, to the capital, Canterlot. There’s a pony there named Steady Notes, with a cutie-mark in investments. Give him your name.

Then never go back to the Ocean, Frost. Promise me you won’t go back and continue to throw your life away. I know hearing me say that probably hurts, but it needs to be said. You’ve got talent and beauty, but also kindness and warmth buried under that ice-cold exterior of yours, and I don’t want to see that snuffed out, even if I only glimpse it from beyond.

Make something better of yourself, Frost. Find a way out. Don’t let that little filly I knew all those years ago vanish beneath a wall of ice you carved yourself.

I love you, Frost.

Your older brother, Barns.

The page was smudged, some of the ink splotched where someone had cried on it, and she knew not all of the tears had come from her the first time she’d read it.

You always did have a big heart, Barns, she thought, sniffling and wiping her eyes with a hoof. You always were better than this lousy Ocean ever was.

Although, there was one last bit to his final note, a hastily scrawled line across the bottom of the page. She eyed it, though she already knew it—and most of the rest of the letter—by heart.

One last request though, before you do anything else, sis. Kill the bandersnatch that got me, will you?

She sniffled again as she folded the letter, her eyes blurring over with tears. Her voice was wispy as she spoke, but it echoed through the room.

“I promise, Barns. I promise.”