It was a very different day, this time. A spring sun shone on the dark walls of Nikadîon, on the green and grey and brown slopes of the mountains, and on the tan sand far below, swept by the blue sea. Gulls swooped to and fro, crying their cries. The old lighthouse kept its silent vigil, just as it had always done. Somewhere below the rock-strewn shore were the ruins of many ships that had failed to heed the lighthouse's warning. Tempest Blackwind gazed into the east, toward Equestria, toward her birthright, toward what her mother had died for. Somewhere beyond that blue horizon, it was waiting. But not today.

Today, Tempest stood on the battlements of her host's fortress, and told herself that the day of her return was not this day. Just like she had yesterday, and the day before, and the one before that... Eventually though, that day would come. But not today. And not tomorrow. She went over the list of pegasi who were still with her. Uncle Hearth Blackwind, old and with a lame leg, incapable of fighting. Coldstar, a good commander and soldier when she isn't drunk, which is rare enough. Snowy Farpeak, irreplaceable. Streaming Breeze, she's average at things, I guess. Redfern and Waterborn, two aging grunts with nothing left to live for but their jobs. Canvas the Silent, he's... I don't even know what he can do. Paint? That was eight, including Tempest Blackwind. Six were combat veterans. Only four could be consistently relied on. Four reliable pegasi, out of the five ships carrying hundreds that had fled Equestria ten years ago.

Her mother's ship had been the first to arrive. Rather, the first smashed by the storm they had run into. The weather of Old Alicornia had turned unpredictable, and cruel. It was a wonder the humans survived, let alone thrived here. But the pegasi had not been able to control the storm as they believed they could; so claimed Nightwatcher, before she had deserted and returned across the sea. When the other ships had arrived, another being wrecked off of Nikadîon as well, the assembled pegasi were disappointed that Maelstrom Blackwind had died within minutes of arrival. The mare that had held their loyalty was dead; Prince Aharôs was now guardian of Tempest, certified by Hearth Blackwind. They didn't like that... The other pegasi tried to make a deal for wardship of Tempest, but Aharôs had proved stubborn, stating he wouldn't entrust the life of an innocent filly to schemers and backstabbers.

And when the Sun Queen's pardon to all Blackwind bannerponies had arrived, excluding the Blackwinds themselves, all those schemers and backstabbers had lived up to their names, and abandoned Hearth and she as fast as one could drop a helmet. Traitors, all of them. When I return, they'll all pay. Tempest told herself that often. The Sun Queen even offered Aharôs a great sum of gold if he would hand over Tempest and Hearth to her. He threw the letter in the fire and said his word was worth more than all the gold in the world. A human proved to be more loyal than almost every pegasus in her mother's army. Those that didn't return to Equestria with news of the pardon trickled away one by one. Some went to the Far North, the ancient human homeland, to see if the tales were really true about what was up there. Some went west, seeking the map's edge and beyond. Most just went back east, to quietly integrate back into the Equestrian states the remaining alicorns kept nominal watch over. The Kingdom of Highcrest was among them. The same lands and skies that belonged to Tempest now.

But she wasn't in Highcrest. She was in Athair, ruled by Zhevakôs Loiar, the sixth. This wasn't pegasus land, this wasn't pegasus sky. This was human land, and human sky. And it had once been alicorn land and sky, in the distant past. These days, Aharôs ruled here more than Zhevakôs, as he watched his father's mind fall to pieces. As the abode of Aharôs, Nikadîon was not a happy place, it hadn't been in many years. A somber mood hung in the air despite the beauty of the day. Tempest continued to gaze out at the sea.

“My queen.” Greeted a worn-out voice. Tempest didn't need to turn around to know who it was. Redfern's wings fluttered as he landed on the battlements, saluting. He was a dull red-brown pegasus, with a mane that had once been green, but was now more white than anything.

“Redfern.” Saluted Tempest in return. “What news?”

“There's always news, but none of it is of note.” He replied. “We continue to live off the kindness of the Prince; Clearspring Swiftrain continues to rule Highcrest. Nothing ever changes.” Redfern was an utter pessimist, and sometimes Tempest was sure he and Waterborn were the two most depressing ponies in the World.

“What is happening in human affairs?” She asked.

“It's the same fucking catastrophe of tangled webs as always, my queen.” Sighed Redfern. “Emperor Katastanîôs has returned to campaign another year, even if he might fall dead tomorrow morning. The Grand Duke of Echarîon seeks help to fend off the Emperor. The Count of Tilai would aid him, but is busy putting down an outbreak of heresy in his own domain. Our own good man, King Zhevakôs, can no longer remember who his own sons are. Prince Reshîv continues to win the war against the Verâdîm rebels, under the direction of Prince Aharôs. Soon, Zhevakôs will have two crowns, as he is the King of Verâd as well.” He only has to force the nobility there to kneel to him. Not that he's in any condition to do anything of the sort.

“I'm glad someone is getting what is theirs.” Tempest said bitterly. “Were that we had a Reshîv of our own.”

“We've got Coldstar...” Redfern laughed at himself. “Oh right, she's a drunk. We've got a cripple, a drunk, a moron, a near-mute, me, Waterborn, and Streaming. Oh, and a fifteen year old filly. Truly, a force to be feared by Clearspring Swiftrain and her master, the Sun Queen. Hell, even the Nightlord must tremble in his shoes. Princesses Celestia and Luna go to sleep in terror, wondering when you will make your return.” The blue-grey pegasus frowned, but had no retort. Snowy isn't a moron... But he's right. I have no power here, nor any companions of use. But, she did have Aharôs. That counted for something.

“Queen Tempest?” Asked another familiar voice. The human, Sir Turaz, walked up the stairs to the battlements. He was a first-generation knight, and the one that had rescued her from the wreckage of the ship all those years ago. “It's time for your lessons-”

“Father Brenan will see me in his solar, yes, I know.” Tempest nodded wearily. “We've only had this exchange a thousand times...”

“Actually, in the Prince's solar today. And education is important, your highness!” Stated Turaz, defensively. “Especially at a young age.” Turaz could barely read, and definitely couldn't write. It was something he took shame in, but could never get right when he tried to learn his letters better.

“I understand, Sir Turaz. It's just...” She trailed off, thinking of how she wanted to finish the sentence.

“You don't see the point in learning from their kind when you're a pegasus?” Suggested Redfern.

“Yes, that.” Tempest agreed. And we're completely reliant on them, for everything, with no way to pay our debts. Leeching off of them just doesn't feel right.

“You're on our side, that's enough for us.” Said Turaz. “Loiar and Blackwind fought side-by-side in Equestria, that's more than we can say about many of our own kind.”

“I know, I know.”

“Well, I'm supposed to take you to the Prince's chambers now. We should go.” The knight told her, turning back to the stairs.

“I think I'll fly there.” The pegasus thought aloud. Turaz talked too much anyway.

“But-” Turaz tried to object, but Tempest spread her wings in preparation for flight, signaling the conversation was over.

“I'll see you there.” She said, and then jumped into the air. The humans didn't like her flying around their castle, but she had already lived here ten years. If there was something they didn't want her to see, she would have found it by now. Nikadîon was big, but it wasn't infinite. From above, Nikadîon looked like a big, ovaleqsue twelve-pointed star sitting on top of the mountain, surrounding a taller set of walls and central keep of a much older design, which sat very close to the edge of the mountain. In the passing centuries, a veritable village had cropped up around the keep and inner walls, where many of the castle's lesser inhabitants lived. There was even a proper church in there; the humans liked their churches. When it came to stained glass, there were none better at the art than they. Father Brenan lived in the keep these days, though, and that's where Tempest was headed. She glided in through the open gates; one of the guards grumbled about no flying allowed, but just stood at his post. The keep of Nikadîon itself was ancient, low-ceilinged, and constantly cold, even in the middle of summer. It had stood for a thousand years, said Aharôs, and it would stand for another, against wind, rain, and storm. Tempest hated it. It was the exact opposite of what her uncle told her the family home in Highcrest was like.

She trotted through the chilly stone halls, and up the dozens of spiral stairs, along a path she memorized years ago. The pegasus passed the scores of empty rooms, the occasional occupied room, past old arrow loops now abandoned in favor of the cannons on the battlements, and to the chamber of Prince Aharôs. Even outside, she could feel the presence of the Prince. Tempest knocked on the thick oak door.

“Ah, my queen, we've been waiting.” Greeted someone as the door opened. It was Sir Eberis, one of Aharôs's most trusted, after Sir Turaz. Eberis had been there the day she arrived as well. “Where is Sir Turaz?” He asked, looking up and down the hall.

“He'll show up.” Replied Tempest, walking in. The Prince's chambers were dark, the curtains were closed. He had a small fire going, and some candles, but they were hardly enough to fill the seeping shadows. If a room says things about a person, this one screams. It had an ordered chaos to it, piles of papers and books, all neatly stacked, but filling almost every available spot. She walked through the outer room with Eberis, and then entered the solar. It was smaller, but its windows were open wide to the view of the sea beyond. At the table was Father Brenan, as she expected, the old weathered priest with wispy white hair. But there was also her uncle, Hearth, same charcoal mane as Tempest's, but with plain grey fur, and the rainbow of blue hued Coldstar, looking sober for once. There were a few humans she had seen before but didn't know the names of, and most important of all, Prince Aharôs. The Prince was standing at the window, looking toward Equestria as Tempest had been doing earlier; she didn't need to see him to know what he looked like. He was a man with a hard face and cold, pale grey eyes. His hair had once been a dark brown, but it was now a dark grey instead. He might have been handsome once, at least for a human, but the stress of years of juggling politics, wars, administration, and an increasingly dysfunctional family had taken their toll on him. “Are you all here for lessons too?” Tempest asked, wondering an instant later what drove her to speak without thinking. Someone chuckled. Probably Eberis.

“I'm afraid not.” Replied Father Brenan, shifting in his black robes. “Something imporatant has come up.”

“Disturbing news, from far away.” Spoke one of the humans, a richly-garbed young fellow with black hair and icy blue eyes. He definitely looked like someone she'd seen before... But who? Maybe I just see him here a lot.

“Quite disturbing.” Agreed Tempest's soft-voiced uncle. There was an open spot next to him, Tempest walked over and sat down there.

“Where is Turaz?” Aharôs asked, still with his back turned. Someone entered through the door in the other room, and rushed in.

“Here, my prince!” Panted Turaz. “That damn filly won't even give an old man a break. I had to run all the way here from the outer wall!” He breathed indignantly. Tempest smiled in victory. Turaz had trained her for years in the use of weapons and tactics, and the proper ways to carry heavy loads, having been a porter once. In revenge for his long-lasting, strength-sapping sessions, Tempest made it her goal to cause him havoc outside of training. She occasionally trained with Sir Herikôs, the master of arms, as well, but Turaz knew how pegasi fought. He had served in the disastrous first Loiar expedition to Highcrest, back in 1488. From common halberdier to knight in six years, an impressive feat.

“Take a seat, sir.” Ordered Aharôs. Turaz sat at the empty chair nearest to him, while Eberis went to close the outer door. Only when Eberis returned and closed the solar door, standing guard over it, did Aharôs continue from his spot at the wide windows. “I have been brought grim tidings. Prince Reshîv has received word of another Verâdîm army, comprised of lords who swore loyalty to us. They have betrayed their oaths and now march to join with their brethren in rebellion. I will lead a force of our own into Verâd and end this war, once and for all.”

“How does that involve us?” Asked Coldstar, narrowing her eyes. “These are human affairs, they don't concern our queen.”

“I believe I can answer this.” Spoke the black-haired man.

“Have we met?” Asked Tempest, trying not to sound rude, but failing.

“I am Îrilôs Taizâres, Duke of Fâharîon, and nephew of Emperor Katastanîôs. I am the Imperial envoy to Athair's court; you may have seen me before.” He explained, with a slight bow.

“So I do know you.” Replied Tempest.

“Perhaps, your highness.” Said Îrilôs. “To answer your good mare's question, it would be wise to help the friends of the Emperor. House Taizâres can be very generous.” Athair was a nominal vassal of the Empire, in the most extreme sense of nominal there was. It was all but in practice a free and independent realm. I guess he wants us to help them..? The motives Duke Îrilôs presented were very unclear; Tempest wouldn't be surprised if he was lying.

“So you want us to fight in your wars?” Asked Hearth, sounding skeptical.

“Yes.” Prince Aharôs replied, turning to face them. He threw a map down on the table, and opened it. Athair was on the farthest eastern tip of Sarathûl, the human name for Old Alicornia, but it had grown three times its original size due to the wonder-working of Prince Aharôs. And it would double in entirety if Verâd could be absorbed, as it lawfully should have been when its royal house failed and kingship reverted to the Loiars. Tempest's eyes went down the coast, southwest, and into the Bay of Vision, Edas Bâlôn as the humans called it. At the western end of the bay, a few miles up the great river that emptied it, was Ar-Athazîon, the Imperial capital. Once, fifteen hundred years ago, it had been the alicorn's city. “By helping us end the Verâdîm rebellion, you will free up our armies to join the Emperor. And that will be good for everyone in Sarathûl, in the long run.”

“Except whatever heretical splinters decide to make themselves known.” Added in Father Brenan, sadly. “It is a shame that those who stray from the path are dealt with so harshly.”

“There can be no room for sectarian antics; mankind ill needs such foolery.” Stated the Imperial envoy. “The Empire comes closer to hegemony over Sarathûl every year. It will be within our lifetime, within Father Brenan's lifetime, that we will see its triumph complete.” Îrilôs Taizâres had a smug look of self-assurance about him.

“My mother almost won her war.” Tempest said coldly. “A year later she died not a mile from where we sit, having fled Equestria.” She stared at Îrilôs, not breaking her gaze.

“Two dozen cannons proved to be no match for the Sun Queen, her daughters, and all the might of the unicorns. My uncle has tens of thousands of cannons. I would like to see the Sun Queen try to face that.” Replied Îrilôs, still smiling.

“She will never have the chance.” Interjected Aharôs, pulling a rolled-up paper out from a pocket. Everyone, and everypony, turned to look at him. “Tempest, I'm sure you wonder why we're asking you and your pegasi to help us only now.” She nodded. “I intercepted and read this three days ago, addressed to my father, and to you.”

“Me?” Asked the blue-grey pegasus. “Why me? And why did you read my mail?”

“I rule Athair, not my father. It was within my right. Now read it; out loud if you would be so kind.” Stated the Prince. He unrolled it, and handed it across the table. Tempest cleared her throat, and looked at it. It's in Equestrian and Tarsin, she noted. She chose the human-tongue side of the letter.

“To Zhevakôs Loiar, sixth of his name, claimed King of Athair. To Tempest Blackwind, second of her name, illegitimate bastard foal and pretender of Highcrest..!” Tempest felt her blood rise at that insult; her uncle grumbled. Aharôs looked on calmly while the other humans looked mildly shocked at such a scathing attack so early in a letter. “You have interfered with Us for the last time. We were content to let problems sort themselves out during your foolish and ill-fated rebellion, but this is something We cannot forgive, nor forget. The Grey Shadow of mankind has spread to Our fair realm; it has murdered hundreds of innocents without mercy or pity. The alicorn race has been devastated, Our own mother and father, the valiant Sun Queen and brave Nightlord, have been struck down; as has Our beloved Prince. You will all burn in agony for what you have done! We will ensure your deaths are as cruel and long as the deaths you have given Our family and nation. If the alicorn race dies, so will all humanity! We have a special fate in mind for the daughter of the Blackwind whore you keep as a pet.” Tempest had to pause, and subdue her anger; not to mention the other emotions that were rising. “Know this, scum of all life: Your fates are sealed. There will be justice for this, and there will be justice for the one thousand, five hundred and four years your filthy degenerate race has occupied our homeland. The wrath of the sun and stars is upon you.” Tempest read the last line. “Signed, Princess Celestia, Regent of the Sun, Protector of Equestria.”

The entire room was silent as the implications hit them. The Sun Queen is dead. The Nightlord is dead. The vast majority of the last alicorn survivors are dead. They died of the plague the humans brought. And their leader insulted my family and wants to kill me... And could easily kill me. She had no idea what to feel. One didn't wake up expecting this.

“Now you know, Tempest.” Aharôs stated. “Now you know why I want you to begin having real experience in battle. Princess Celestia blames you and I for the deaths of so many of her own. And revenge seems to be on her mind.” Tempest blinked. Behind her anger, there was fear. Lots and lots of fear. I'm only fifteen... can't fight an alicorn princess! I don't know if I can even fight another pegasus!

“The Sun Queen is dead...” Hearth muttered.

“God save us all.” Father Brenan bowed his head.

“I hope your Empire is ready.” Commented Coldstar, looking at Îrilôs.

“If Celestia wants to squander the strength of Equestria invading Sarathûl, let her.” The Imperial Envoy waved dismissively. “The Emperor will destroy her.”

“Your uncle will die any day now.” Said Sir Turaz.

“I said the Emperor, not my uncle.” Îrilôs corrected.

“Silence.” Ordered Prince Aharôs. “This is serious. We're not here to debate the merits of the Emperor against Celestia. We will deal with Equestria when we choose to, or when Celestia forces our hand. For now, Verâd awaits us. This meeting is dismissed.” He waved them all towards the door. “Tempest, stay here with me.”

“Why? Don't I still have lessons?” She asked, trying to sound normal, and not like a nervous filly.

“No, not today.” Replied Aharôs. He waited for everyone and everypony to leave the main chamber, before continuing. Sir Eberis walked out last, and closed the door, no doubt staying to stand guard. “Do you think you're ready?” The Prince asked, sitting down at the tale opposite of Tempest.

“I...” The pegasus looked down shamefully. “No.” She sighed. “I'm not ready.”

“Well, the time has come.” Said Aharôs. “It came for me, and now it's here for you. But you have an advantage.”

“What's that?” Tempest questioned, confounded as to why anyone would want her in battle with them. “What advantage could an untested filly possibly have? Why do you need me, anyway?”

“Two advantages, actually.” Noted the Prince, looking amused. “First, you're on my side. Second, you can fly.” Aharôs smiled craftily.

“What's flying got to do with this?” The pegasus raised an eyebrow skeptically. Aharôs laughed quietly.

“Human soldiers aren't trained to fight against enemies from above.” Answered he. “Going by my own experience, none of us even think to look at the sky when surrounded by enemies on the ground.”

“But there's only me... Coldstar, Streaming, Waterborn, and Redfern can fight, but the others can't.” Tempest snorted. “Some threat we are.”

“Battles are not won with brute strength alone, as you know.” She nodded in agreement, this much Father Brenan made clear time and time again. “Humans can't fly either. So what do you think happens when only one side can see everything that happens?” Aharôs posed the question.

“Then...” She thought for a moment, reflecting on all the possibilities. “You could see what the enemy was doing.”

“If we all flew, yes. However, you're the one that flies. You and your handful of fighters. Some of you stay up there and watch, others fly up and down to report in the happenings.” Said the Prince. “We'll be able to intercept the enemy and destroy them at a place of our choosing. And when they break, you will be instrumental in hunting down their remnants. That is why I need you and your sworn ponies.” The pegasus thought for a moment. If I can prove useful, they just might take me more seriously... Yes, that would be a good thing.

Then she remembered the time Aharôs took her with to Vatherîon, and met Prince Reshîv and his army for a celebratory feast. As the Prince, her Prince, dealt with formalities, Tempest had sneaked away to investigate what was happening in more interesting places. That was how she gained firsthand experience of how humans dealt with infected limbs. No, that won't be me under the bone-saw. I'll be high up, away from the fire and steel.

“When do we leave?” Asked Tempest, stamping on her own fear and putting on her best determined face. Going by the Prince's curious look, it didn't work too well.

“I'll be taking the garrisons of Nikadîon and Sturaj, and then collect regional armies as we move towards Verâd.” He motioned vaguely across the map on the table. “We'll discuss strategy when the time comes. Right now, I have something for you.” He stood, and beckoned Tempest to follow him out of the solar.

“Where are we going?” Wondered she.

“The armory.” Aharôs said, exiting the room. Sir Eberis fell in behind them.

“What for?”

“You'll see. Patience, Tempest.”

“Why do you think four or five pegasi can turn the tide of a battle?” Questioned Tempest again.

“I already told you, aerial observation would give us the edge we need.” Replied the Prince, sighing. “You're a queen, you must pay attention.”

“I do pay attention!” Retorted the pegasus. “I just don't see why you need me all of a sudden. I mean, the Sun Queen is dead, I get that. Celestia wants me dead, I get that. I need to be ready in case everything goes to Hell, I get that. But why will flying around above a battle help me deal with an alicorn princess?” Aharôs didn't answer right away, looking distantly down the hall as they walked.

“The first time I was in combat, I was with two of my brothers, Heranôs and Keris. Keris had fought before, Heranôs and I had not. It was...” The Prince trailed off. “It didn't go so well. Throwing two boys onto the battlefield, fresh from training, will usually result in someone dying a death that could have been avoided.” Aharôs turned to Tempest, stopping. He stared right into her eyes. “I won't have you suffer the same fate. We're doing this my way.”

“And what is your way, exactly?” The pegasus asked cautiously, as they began to walk again.

“First, you'll see combat from above, and work on pursuing the enemy when they break. Eventually, you'll move onto flanking maneuvers, raids, and other such things reserved for the fast cavalry. Though with so few of you, I'm thinking night attacks might be more suited.” Aharôs pondered to himself. “Can you see well at night?”

“No more than you can.”

“Alas.” He shook his head. “You're a unique asset in this part of the world, Tempest, whether you realize it or not. They say I'm good at working with unique assets. You'll be another test of that.”

The three continued down through the silent keep, not doing anything to disturb the stillness of the castle. After some minutes of walking, they arrived at the armory, on the ground floor of the keep. It was a square room, one of four, full of racks of swords, halberds, maces, hammers, and other assorted weapons. Through a doorway, Tempest could see many sets of mass-produced armor, for common soldiers to wear. The pikes, instrumental in human warfare, were kept in a higher-ceilinged room, for obvious reasons. Arquebuses, powder, and shot were kept in a fourth room of the armory.

“Good morning, my prince.” Greeted the blacksmith, Dôrov. He was technically an armorer, gunsmith, and bladesmith, but he fulfilled the role of a general smith too. He was old, but tougher than the mountain Nikadîon was built on. He must be at least eighty; but he hasn't changed since the day I came here.

“Hail!” Saluted the master of arms, Sir Herikôs. Herikôs was another aged man, long past his prime, but still good enough to serve a purpose.

“Men.” Nodded Aharôs.

“Ah, hello, Queen Tempest.” Dôrov bowed ever so slightly. “We've been expecting you all morning.

“What for?” Asked the pegasus.

“This!” Announced Sir Herikôs, pulling a dusty sheet off something. He revealed a highly polished set of armor, made for... A pegasus? Tempest approached, almost cautiously. It was indeed for a pegasus. The armor was dull grey, though it reflected light cast on it quite well. There was something about it that didn't look quite normal... Probably just the dim light. The entire set seemed to be designed around providing protection with flexibility, the only solid plates were for the torso, forelimbs, and helmet. Everything else was segmented. On the upper chest was emblazoned the black and silver cyclone of House Blackwind.

“Is this for me?” Tempest asked, in awe.

“Of course.” Stated Aharôs.

“We were planning to give it to you for your next birthday, but events have accelerated our plans.” Said Sir Herikôs.

“It was Turaz's design.” Noted Eberis.

“Right.” Laughed Dôrov the blacksmith, gruffly. “Where is he, anyway?”

“Turaz is preparing to ride to Sturaj, to have its garrison up and moving by the time we arrive.” Aharôs explained. He walked up to Tempest, and pointed to a shallow dent in the breastplate. “You see this, Tempest?”

“Yes... Bullet mark?” Asked she.

“Aye.” Nodded Sir Herikôs. “Placed that myself, with the Prince's own arquebus. If it can block that at twenty feet, it can block anything short of cannon-shot at fifty.”

“You shouldn't be using my weapons.” Aharôs narrowed his eyes.

“What are you gonna do about it?” Shot back Herikôs, who then laughed. “I've trained your father, and I trained you. I'm allowed to use the weapons I taught you to use.” The Prince rolled his eyes, a hint of a childhood Tempest never would have guessed he had otherwise.

“What metal is this made of?” Tempest questioned, eyeing it closely.

“Remember when I left to visit my brother for a few months?” Asked the smith of many trades.

“More like a year.” The pegasus commented.

“Yeah, I was actually in Ar-Athazîon making this.” He explained. “Don't ask how we got your measurements, Snowy Farpeak has her uses, believe it or not.” Eberis and Herikôs laughed quietly. Tempest scowled. Everyone's too hard on Snowy. But Dôrov's explanation made sense, Ar-Athazîon was known for its rather unworldly metal products. No one know how it was made, but it took either significant money or significant influence to gain access to the Emperor's metalworkers. She wasn't sure which Aharôs had; Athair wasn't particularly rich, but going by Îrilôs's frequent visits, it must have had some sway with the Emperor...

“I don't know if I'm worthy of this or not.” Tempest said, reflecting on her own reluctance to go into battle. “I mean-”

“Nonsense!” Sir Herikôs barked. “You have a kingdom to retake, one day. You can't do that without proper armor, can you?”

“No, not really.” Admitted the pegasus, quite thankful they were making her keep it. “Can't do it with only seven ponies at your back either.” Offered Tempest as a counter-point.

“Everything starts with something.” Nodded Dôrov, sagely. He produced two blades of a similar color to the metal in the armor. “These are your weapons. Herikôs and Turaz have trained you how to fight with swords strapped to your forelegs, but with swords actually attached to the armor itself... Should work better, in my opinion.” He slid them into grooves on the foreleg plates, where they locked in with a click. “I needed a clocksmith to help me with this; watch.” Dôrov held one of the blades gingerly, and pulled it upwards. The blade clicked upwards and around until it was pointed the opposite direction it previously had been. “For when you need to land.” The smith said, beaming with pride. Tempest smiled back. It was quite a work of machinery. The humans were adept at two arts, Tempest decided: Stained glass, and their mechanical magic of clockwork.

“That is one of the most ingenious things I've ever seen, Dôrov.” Announced the pegasus. “If I actually had money, I'd throw in a major bonus to your pay.”

“I don't do the job for money, my queen.” Dôrov shook his head fiercely. “Nay, I do it because it's my life.”

“A shame nopony, or no one, can give you a few extra years then.” Tempest replied. The smith shrugged.

“I'm not afraid. Death comes to all of us.” He said, in a nonchalant manner. Easy to say when you're older than anyone else around by a good decade, Tempest thought.

“All men, all women, all ponies, all alicorns, all eagles, all elk.” Mumbled Sir Herikôs in agreement. “Not even knights are safe!”

“I'd say a knight has a higher chance of dying than a smith.” Aharôs stated. “Sir Eberis, Dôrov, help Tempest put on her armor. Let's see if it works as well as we think it does.” The pegasus nudged the blade back into fighting position with a hoof. This armor is my future. Things won't be the same after this. Today, she would not make the return to Equestria, and Highcrest. But now she was one small step closer. All I have to do is survive the humans a little longer. The dent from the bullet caught her eye. Good luck Tempest. You'll need it.

Author's note: Well, we've got one of our protagonist's plot moving, even though she really has her doubts.
As for something completely different, you might be wondering “Mr. Hood, what do all these weird little arrow things above the vowels in human nouns mean?" Here is each vowel in Tarsin, what Tempest called the human tongue. Keep in mind, not every vowel will match the letters in the example, but it will match the sound.

a- a as in “an”

â- a as in “care”

ai- ai as in “kite”

e- e as in “tent”

i- i as in “imp”

î- i as in “reek”

o- o as in “on”

ô- o as in “coke”

oi- oi as in “oil”

u- u as in “urn”

û- u as in “cube”
These are the vowel sounds of Tarsin (though it's all English for our convenience). Now you know, and knowing is half the battle!