Gusty awoke with a splitting headache and a desperate need for water. In a corner room there was a wooden pale stationed upon a stool. She could just barely see the glimmer of water reflecting the ancient and somehow still burning oil lamp from the night before. Rushing over she stuck her whole snout into the cool liquid before pulling back and drinking several healthy gulps. Satisfied she stood up and noticed a bar of soap and a rough cloth sitting next to the bucket. Upset that she had just drank her bath water Gusty turned to observe Bunker snoring on the stiff but functional hay-stuffed mattress. Her mind was cloudy making it hard to recall everything that had happened the day before. Gusty could remember two things though, someone had summoned a Chimera in the middle of the party and Gertrude wanted to talk to her.

It had proved most unfortunate that her thirst had betrayed her. Gusty decided that her first course of action would be to find more water to bathe. One cursory glance over herself had revealed her to be covered in blood, vomit, and her own bodily fluids. The smell had not hit her nose until she noticed but as soon as it did Gusty was quickly rushing out her dark little room’s door and into one of the manor’s hallways soap and cloth in tow. She balked looking left and right, gladly finding that no one was around to see her still in this state. The left end of the hall called to her as she made her way towards the small oak door at its end. She pushed it open to be sprayed by rain, causing her to slam it closed instinctively. Now noticing the quiet hissing of the heavy downpour on the roof her, Gusty took a deep breath and readied herself to go out in the squall. It would be the easiest way to cleanser her matted fur of the filth she had acquired.

Cold rain hit her face and shoulders causing her to shiver once the door was open again. Fully outside she was instantly coated in water as the wind howled. Undeterred, Gusty skipped towards the middle of the garden she had discovered and began scrubbing herself with the bar of soap and rag. A bright flash of lightning turned the grey abyss around her bright enough for her to see the outer wall of the manor-castle. She smiled her body hot enough to send steam streaking off of her flanks in wispy trails as she cleaned. Normally she would have shivered from the icy cold rain and the blustery, hissing wind but she felt unimaginably happy and energized.

‘It’s really nice out today.” she commented to herself with a deep breath. Removing the last of the filth from her body Gusty began a slow trot towards the door she had exited. She let the rain cleanse the soap from her as she went, expanding her wings and letting everything run down to the ground.

Yes, quite nice out.

Gusty paused, confused. That voice had been hers, if a bit sarcastic too, but it had come from inside of its own accord. She looked around almost certain she had heard somepony besides herself. She scanned the muddy ground and look critically at what appeared to be a small cropping of carrots finding just herself. At the same time the strange disembodied sensation she had experienced disappeared as quickly as it had billowed up. She shook her head and felt a shiver coming on just as she opened the door back into the manor. However, what she saw inside the manor befuddled her beyond comprehension.

The tall ceilinged hall with its slit-bar windows was gone and all that replaced it was an empty, milky whiteness. Gusty had walked in initially not giving her full attention to the location until she had found her hooves touching nothing yet propelling her forward, floating. She was not panicked by this strange occurrence, in fact Gusty found herself rather liking it. The sensation gradually crescendoed into a feeling of plush cushions on her back and neck and the feeling of wings wrapped around her body. The white faded to black and her chest tightened with passion and love as the pony, the stallion, who held her kissed her fiercely. Her mind first went to Bunker, but he did not have wings.

Is this a dream? She thought to herself. Her tongue intertwined with the dream stallion’s. He was quite good at what he was doing, fantastic even. Her heart rang and clenched with desire and her body trembled with his fiery touch, making her want more. Yes, definitely a dream, a Super Bunker dream! Haven’t had this one in a while...maybe I’ll actually make it to the end this time.

The blackness she had been looking at changed to the blurry image of Super Bunker. She had never made it this far, never opened her eyes, just kept them closed, kissed, and felt horny until she woke up. Giddily Gusty let the dream become clearer enjoying the touch of the fantasy. Curiously, the dream stallion was a grey color, his features sculpted and handsome, his wings a familiar softness that…

Gusty flailed and pushed him back to see Stormwalker, his fangs at a moderate length and his yellow cat-eyes blinking in confusion. “Gusty what’s wrong?!” he asked, surprise and concern evident in his voice.

“You! You are what’s wrong! Monster!” she shouted at him. It was the same harsh voice she had heard before, hers but not hers. The happiness in Stormwalker’s eyes flickered out with shocking speed. He turned to his right, working his jaw as if he was trying to say something but was too broken to say it. The gashed scar over his left eye seemingly deepened and his face acquired lines and age in a way Gusty had never seen before. A single tear ran down the length of the disfigurement as his visage flashed into fire and worry; his eyes snapped up to meet hers. Something pulled Gusty away from him, he desperately chased after her, his face growing smaller and more desperate before disappearing into the Abyss.

This isn’t a dream, it's a nightmare! She screamed internally. A sudden swirling feeling forced her to pull her hoof away from her face. Trying to reorient herself Gusty balked as she quickly found herself back in the hall of the manor, panting. Gusty blinked incredulously, casting her vision everywhere she could trying to make sure this was reality. Her breathing was rough and burned her chest making it impossible to calm down. She was still sopping wet from the rain, but was now cold and uncomfortable feeling.The door to the room she had stayed in creaked open and a groggy Bunker trotted out.

“Oh!” he jumped upon seeing her, “Gusty, you are awake, an-and clean too! Good muh-morning.” Bunker quipped, his speech still partially slurred. He stretched awkwardly before walking towards her. He was visibly resisting hugging her, he had evidently realized he was still just a messy as she had been.

“I-I’m surprised y-you woke up.” she commented to him. Gusty was unsure if it was the cold water coating her fur causing her voice to shake or the strangeness she had witnessed only moments ago.

“Da. I thought I heard you talking so I woke up and found you out here, did you sleepwalk outside in rain, heheh?” Bunker joked at her. He had woken up seemingly in a mere moment of clarity. Gusty was jealous of this, even now after being in freezing rain and having a particularly screwed up vision she felt sleepy.

“Shall...shall we get some food then?” Bunker asked drawing Gusty attention. She nodded unsure of herself for the first time in years. She followed Bunker towards the opposite end of the hall that she had reentered from stepping carefully. Feeling like the world might again slip into some unimaginable horror, Gusty paced through the door her husband opened with unease. She found herself in a small dining room a few servant Ovis mulling about dusting and setting the small rough hewn table that adored the room. The folk of the Baylands did not have much in the way of Equestrian conveniences but they managed to put on a elegant air of simplicity.

They did not seem to have a use for electric or magic lights, making the room lit with candles and polished mirrors. The plain construction and decorations of the walls did well to emphasize the proud, fierce culture of the sheep of these messy hills. Gusty felt a powerful longing for the simpler time that the Ovis of the Baylands were trying to emulate. However, she had been called here for the exact opposite reason. It was as stark a realization as the several servants that seemingly appeared from nowhere and began drying her still dripping fur with thick rough towels. Gusty accepted their actions but awkwardly fidgeted as the pair of young ewes finished and bid her a good breakfast.

.

“Oh! They have turnip stew! Mine favorite!” Bunker declared from the other side of the table. Gusty noticed a bowl full of a pasty beige porridge sitting at her seat. She slipped into the chair and peered down at the hoofhandles of her breakfast’s container. Feeling apprehensive Gusty slowly reached down to grab the bowl. Across from her Bunker busily slurped loudly, claiming that the food was delicious beyond compare, he could not even do better. She trusted his half-gurgled opinion knowing how well Bunker cooked, Gusty took a sip.

True to form the porridge was as delicious as her husband claimed. Gusty looked back up at her companion just as soon as she had finished devouring the succulent stew. He smiled at her, his wry grin betraying his dastardly underpinnings.

“Last night was good, yes?” he asked moving his long blonde mane out of his face.

“Well, what I remember was fantastic. I had a wonderful time.” she answered him.

“I would hope you did, do you think we were successful?” her white stallion asked her. He looked serious and concerned as if he was not up to the task of satisfying her. Feeling somewhat embarrassed by this Gusty found herself blushing, he was always excellent at pleasing her.

“W-well I think we were. I’m certainly not going to kick you out of the house!” she stuttered before trying to tease him. He laughed at her motioning around the alabaster walls and marble floors.

“You would kick me out of the house I built?” he mocked, “The house I toiled and built just for you?”

“Yeah! I would! You insistent stallion!” Gusty cried before taking matters into her magical grip. She levitated her husband over to her and slammed her face into his, kissing passionately. He cackled madly at her, failing entirely to kiss back as she showered him with affection.

She set him down before hopping away from the gilded table. She pranced over towards the curtain draw that separates this room from the next. “Come,” she said starting to pull on the line that held the thick cloth suspended down across the doorway.

“Let us wake our young daughter like she used to do to us!” she chuckled. Her husband came up to her looking confused as she struggled with the rope. He placed his hooves and wings on her, his face growing worried enough to make his horn appear to droop.

“Gusty, what are you doing?!” he almost yelled at her. His voice was harsh and distorted as if he was yelling to her through a glass of water. Gusty’s only response was to stare back him equally befuddled by the strange shift in her sense of hearing.

“Gusty!” came a much clearer, more recent voice from her husband’s mouth. In that instance, the beautiful room she had been standing in burned away. The flowers and plants that had lined the walls were replaced with suits of armor and torches. The rope she had been pulling on turned into a thick tassel that hung from a banner display. Before her stood the burgundy stallion Bunker, his face panicked and stressed. She was not sure what was happening to her today but it needed to stop. Now. However, the only thing she could think of was to move forward and trying to distract her mind from past and the what-could-have-been.

“Are you alright?!” Bunker asked for about the fifth time.

“No.” she shook her head still feeling disoriented, “But...I’m all here now. Sorry.”

“Do not apolot-gize.” Bunker slurred in his accented voice. “Everypony has bad mornings. Let’s go talk to matriarch sheep. She will help you move on.” He decided for her.

Gusty nodded and followed Bunker’s lead. She leaned on him some as she walked down the brown and grey stone walls devastated by their change from royal blue and cream. Keeping her head down, she followed her current husband doing her best not to have more hallucinations not that she had any control over that. They came to a door where Bunker stopped and turned to her. His face betrayed the strong tone he tried to take.

“Seriously. You are alright, da?” he asked muzzle scrunched in concern. She had never told anypony about the visions, but somehow they always knew about them. Gusty had often suspected Stormwalker and his meddling had something to do with that but how he had gotten the details was beyond her.

“Yes, I’m doing better, I’m just very disoriented, having such lucid memories spring up is really disconcerting. At least I think they are memories…” she answered Bunker.

“Don’t think too hard. Is what causes them methinks.” He warned with a sage nod. Gusty could not help but giggle at him. If anypony was going to be able to help keep her grounded it was definitely the rough hewn stallion before her. She drew in a deep breath before pushing through the door. The portal opened up into the Long Hall, the very room that had been destroyed by yesterday’s party. It was positively spotless causing Gusty to gawk with shock at its cleanliness.

“Top o’ da mornin’ tah ye, Gusty!” declared Gertrude from her grand chair. Positioned far down the Long Hall on Gusty’s right, the ewe waved enthusiastically.

The latter portion of the great table that had adorned the room had been removed to accommodate for the plush wooden throne. Guards flanked each side of the seat, staring with a barely concealed apprehension around the room. Before the throne Zeccaran sat wobbily on the floor his head turned only enough to see Gusty and Bunker enter. Gusty trotted towards her old friend with haste eager to move on to the matter she had been called here for.

“A good morning to you too, Gertrude.” she nodded once up to the throne.

“Aye. If it weren’ for the circumstances It’d be a great day.” Gertrude began. “Ye do know why I asked ye to come here, no?” Gusty nodded in response before chiming in herself.

“It was pirates of some sort right?” she tried to confirm her memory. Over the last couple of days things had gotten extremely blurry. Secretly Gusty hoped she had not been misinterpreting the passage of time but she never felt like she could confirm nor deny what was happening around her. Even now as Gertrude talked to her, Gusty noticed her mind wander and try to make sense of the situation of its own accord as if it was a separate entity from her entirely. The sensation made her paranoid, her instinctual defense was to lash out at anything and everything. It was like she was constantly being watched and mocked, but she could never find who was behind the veil.

“Gusty! Am I a borin’ ya lass?” Gertrude interrupted her thoughts.

“No..no sorry Gerty...I just am feeling strange today. Please, tell me again.” She tried to apologize to her once-daughter.

“I be needin’ ye to look through ta’ homes of a few of my Jarls. I be wishin’ to eliminate them from mine list of suspects.” The Dame rubbed her chin with a cloven hoof. Gusty gladly accepted the challenge causing Gertrude to smile slyly.

“Uh...are you sure you want us to do the searching?” piped up Zeccaran for the first time since Gusty had entered the room.

“Aye, lad.” Gerty answered with an approving look.

“You do know we aren’t known for being very stealthy, right? Snooping is not our strong suit.” the zebra pushed his point further.

“Oh, I kennt it lad. ‘Tis why I want you to do it!” the old ewe beamed. This left Zeccaran to just balk repeatedly until he shrugged in acceptance. Gusty smiled, pleased that Gertrude had kept him from complaining more, a feat few could manage. Looking back up to The Dame, Gusty waggled her brow eagerly.

“So, who do you want us to interrogate first?” she clopped her hooves together. This was what she had been waiting for: some old fashioned evil hunting.

“Interrogating? Nae, lass. Go invade the manor of Jarl Angus. You have mine blessing to be as accostin’ as ye wish. But don’ be causing any permanent harm. An’ when he and his rams catch you tell him ‘twas me that sent ye.” Gertrude scolded. Gusty kicked at the ground in begrudging acceptance of her friend-daughter’s decree.

“Alright...I guess. Where does this Angus live anyway? Might as well get started today.” she said narrowly overcoming her own pouting. She had been hoping to smash a few skulls instead of just being a nuisance. It was in that instance though that Gusty realized this: she was being told to make a problem. Making a problem, might just include punching unsuspecting manor guards. She smiled deviously to herself before looking back up to Gertrude.

“Oh ho! I kennt that look. ‘Tis the look of The Bah-aylands most notorious rabble rouser!” The Dame laughed mischievously. “The house of Jarl Angus is but a day’s walk on the road that leads north from town. The manor be nestled in the thickest of our forests deep in the Emerald Valley. Follow the road, and ye will find it a handsome repose come the day’s walkin’.” She finished.

In return Gusty merely flexed her wings and stretched her neck. Walk? Never! She thought to herself continuing her charade.Gertrude caught on after a few moments and facehoofed herself.

“Aye. I be gettin’ old indeed. What purpose doth an alicorn have for roads when she can fly?” The Dame declared more to herself than anyone else. Gusty just laughed at her merrily before pantomiming like she was walking with a cane. Gertrude made a huffing noise before catapulting herself at Gusty with such alarming speed that she was unable to dodge. Getting knocked from her hooves the alicorn did her best to land softly as she laughed even harder at Gertrude. The unlikely pair landed in a heap on the floor, the ewe laughing like mad.

“Ain’t too old fer ‘dat tho’!” she crowed from atop Gusty’s chest. She laughed at her diminutive attacker more than happy to indulge her for the moment. Waiting perhaps five seconds, Gertrude was lifted away in her golden magic much to the ewe’s flagrant protests.

“Ya know, Gusty lass, I’m surprised at ye.” The Golden Dame said thoughtfully after dusting herself off.

“What do you mean?” Gusty questioned.

“Ye have been mysteriously comfortable with the recent attempts on mine life. I recall a time when such an occurrence would send ye into a frenzy...” Gertrude let her voice trail off. Gusty found herself looking away from her once-daughter an iron-like taste welling up in her mouth. The ewe was right: her realized apathy brought back the feeling of dysphoria that she had only just chased away. She wanted to care. Deep in her soul, that was what Gusty wanted: to care, truly, and not have the overwhelming sense of emptiness absorb her.

“Well…” She started, trying to muster her courage to look at Gertrude again, “I never really asked who you think is behind this; it’s not really pirates, right?” Gusty finished, finally looking at her companion.

“Tut tut tut.” Gertrude puttered. “Seal us in a cone of thine magic, before I be spellin’ out the truth to ye.” The old ewe looked around the empty Long Hall as if she thought the very bricks were eavesdropping.

Gusty shrugged and went to oblige her. It had been an eon since she had cast any form of shield magic, let alone one that stopped the flow of sound. Grimacing as she slowly began summoning up the magic she needed, Gusty did her best to maintain the concentration she needed to cast. Fwawhm! barked her horn and around them a golden dome of her magic flowed down and sealed flush with the floor.

“What’s actually going on, Gerty?” she asked the ewe. Her concern sliding too far into her voice for her liking. Releasing a deep, almost weathered sounding sigh, Gertrude looked up at her, the ewe’s eyes betraying her fear and sadness.

“Methinks that one of mine own kin seek to plunder the throne from underneath me.” she said grimly.

“What!? Why!?” Gusty shrieked in horror. In her mind there was no reason fathomable for such an atrocity. It was among her list of unforgivable sins; to kill a member of one’s own family for personal gain. A small flame of determination lit dep in Gusty’s heart in that moment, waiting to grow brighter as she listened to Gertrude’s explanation.

“It would seem that mine daughter...dare I say it?” Gertrude paused, her eyes unfocused, “Mine own daughter be the chief suspect in this matter most ill. She be the only other creature in all the land with the sway a-an-an’the political position to allow these-these...brigands in an’ out our lands without raising questions.” the Dame of the Baylands’ responded shakily.

Gusty swallowed the lump in her throat as Gertrude looked back up to her. The ewe’s eyes shone scared and lost just like they did on the day they had met those centuries ago. Fighting against the onset of more memories trying to distract her, Gusty pulled Gertrude into a hug.

“I promise I’ll get to the bottom of this. I won’t let it be her.” she comforted her companion. Gertrude sighed pitifully in their embrace, her shuddering breath betraying her best efforts to hide tears.

“Oh, mama lass. I hope ye are right. I pray ye are right. But fer now...just go do as I ask...It will help bring any co-conspirators into the light.” the ewe said to her timidly. Gusty pulled partially out of the hug and nodded plainly to her friend-daughter. “That’s ta’ plan anyway. This old Golden Fleece be good for something yet.” Gertrude smiled rubbing her nose with a sniff.

“How..how is it going to help?” Gusty questioned. She turned her eyes up to the golden dome they were in and ended the spell now that Gertrude had regained her composure. There were no more secrets to be told anymore anyway.

“Mine Fleece? Don’t tell me ye don’ remember tha’!” Gertrude boomed, her voice bouncing off the hard stone walls with harsh echoes. Gusty only shook her head in response too curious to interrupt the ewe’s building bravado.

“None can tell lies to the owner of the Golden Fleece! Go ahead there zebra, ye try it!” she declared to a wincing Zeccaran. He jostled his shoulders and rubbed his ears before nodding that he would.

“I really hate spiders.” he declared before a look of stupor overcame him. “Yahp. Yahp. It works. I, in fact, really hate spiders. That was just weird; it was like I had some type of word-vomit of truth.”

“Well, it clearly works. All we have to do is follow through with your plan then, Gerty.” Gusty commented while Bunker laughed and pointed at Zeccaran who was now randomly naming off fears. She rolled her eyes at them, ready to depart immediately, and faintly annoyed with their shenanigans

“Oi! Lads! Quit yer bickerin’ and go with Gusty! ‘Tis time to start thine quest!” The Golden Dame bellowed. Gusty quite literally jumped at the immense volume the little ewe output. Bunker and Zeccaran were startled in the extreme, both attempting to scramble over each other out of pure instinct.

“Pffpbbttt!” she stuttered starting to laugh. “Come-come on you to morons!” she waved for them to follow her. Moping in defeat the two stallions followed her out of the Manor, away from town of Castle-upon-Barra, and out onto their journey into the lowland forests.

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

“Could you seriously not choose a smaller animal that flies?!” Gusty hissed quietly at Zeccaran. Beside her in the tree the giant eagle peered back at her. The bird cocked its head to the side a somehow amused look on its face. With a sharp flash of green light Zeccaran took the great raptor’s place a cocky smile spreading his lips.

“No. Eagles are the best.” he said just shy of sarcastic. Gusty fixed him with a scowl before pushing a hoof over her shoulder and into Bunker’s chin.

“You could have at least carried this fool part of the way too-but no!” her voice growing louder with each word. Both Bunker and Zeccaran promptly shushed her causing a deep seated spitefulness to build in her chest. She would merely wait to get back at them later, for now she had a task to complete.

Still huffing, Gusty turned her eyes towards the not-so-distant Castle Angus. Their trip here had only taken a few hours, as Gertrude had said; flying was much, much quicker than hoofing it. The journey had taken them to the bottom of a valley that led into a fjord. The area was populated by thick high branched pines that extended out towards the hard sheer rock faces of the landscape. One of those trees and its wide hardy branches served as their current perch, several hundred yards from the battlements of Castle Angus. Having carried Bunker the entire distance on her back, Gusty was having a hard time taking in the beautiful countryside. She was still recovering from the workout and trying to figure out the best way into the castle.

“You know, now that I think of it these folk won’t be looking for flying creatures would they?” Zeccaran mused quietly from his own branch. Gusty cast him a quizzical look, on her back and evidently unwilling to remove himself, Bunker grunted too.

“Well, essentially the only creatures that live here are sheep, Ovis. They can’t exactly fly, so any sentries on the watch towers would be looking down towards the woods and the road. The cliffs are too far away for anyone to hit the castle even with the most accurate of cannons...so yeah, we should get up pretty high and dive in behind them!” Zeccaran concluded. She responded by letting her jaw hang loose, it could not be that easy.

“Da! Zebra is right. Pirates would come from the sea or ground, not from sky unless they make full assault. And sheep-folk would know if they plan attack like that.” Bunker commented, “And behold! Sky is grey and low, is perfect day for us. The old gods send weather to aid us!”

“I think you just don’t want to get down from my back.” Gusty retorted, narrowly stopping herself from growling at her husband.

“Eh. Is comfy. I could stay all day.” He responded casually.

“Now is not the time to tease me.” She scowled. Bunker merely chuckled into her folded ear in response. Zeccaran nodded approvingly at the other stallion entirely ignoring the daggers she stared at him for encouraging the behavior.

“Let’s just get to the task at hand. And this is your plan Zeccaran, get to flying and I’ll follow.” she stiffly ordered. Zeccaran grinned mischievously and was enveloped by his usual green light becoming replaced by the enormous brown eagle-shape he oh-so-adored.

He gave a quiet squawk and chirp before flapping his big wings in a flurry. Gusty waited for him to get decently airborne before she followed him up into the sky. Her wings burned from their already strenuous trip as she strained to follow the zebra-eagle. She gradually ascended biting her lower lip in an attempt to ignore the screaming of her appendages. Zeccaran was leading them away from Castle Angus as they climbed towards the low grey volumes as the cloud bank meandered down the valley closer to their objective. The maneuver felt vaguely similar to what they had done when the party had first arrived in Canterlot. Gusty fought the nostalgia of that adventure as she squinted her eyes as she entered the first cloud. It was extremely difficult to fight the urge to just relax and sit in giant cushion instead of the painful flight she was enduring.

It took only a couple of minutes of following the brown blob in front of her before she felt their flight path pitch into a dive. In an instance they broke the clouds with hurtling speed. They sped down past the narrow watchtowers and past the main keep before coming to a halt just a few feet above a balcony. Hovering, another flash of light changed Zeccaran back into a Zebra and he fell silently onto the platform. He looked up at her curiously, clearly wondering why she had not followed suit. Unbeknownst to him however, Gusty was desperately trying to maintain her wing beats. Slowing down after such a dive, with the extra weight and the three hour trip made it impossible to do much beyond hover exactly where she was.

She gestured with a jerk of her head for Bunker to dismount from his back. He made an unsure sort of grunt before slipping off her side. Just before he landed, Gusty caught him in her levitation to minimize the noise. Undaunted by the experience, Bunker waved for her to cease flying, continuing their silent charade. Biting her tongue to keep her pained moaning quiet she started to glide down to the platform, only to lose control of her flight path. Wanting to scream but having already viced her tongue she hurtled toward the balcony. She closed her eyes as she was going to impact the wall, her stubborn wings too tired and locked up to use.

To Gusty’s surprise, she instead found a soft body cushioning her impact. Opening her eyes, she beheld Bunker, who had somehow stretched up enough to keep her from hitting the building with full force. Together they slid down the side of the castle and landed mostly silently on the overhang where Zeccaran stared with a bit of a confused scowl.

“Thank you.” she whispered to her husband. He nodded in response before pointing towards a watchtower that was nearby, the ram look out staring out away from the keep, but one ear turned in their direction. She motioned cautiously for them to enter the room attached to the perch. Stacking up carefully, they let her use her magic to open the dingy wooden door and proceed first. The two stallions slipped in just behind her, Zeccaran being last, taking the door in his hooves and gingerly closing it making not a sound until its latch clicked placidly into place.

“Oh thank the moon we made it in!” he hissed still fairly muffled sounding.

“Da. We did good. Sneaky-sneaky not mine style but, ey. It works.” Bunker nodded in agreement. “What is dis room anyway?”

Gusty turned around to behold a lavish bedroom. She faintly gasped as she observed an exquisite armor display, an extremely comfortable looking bed, and a full fireplace and mantle on the far wall next to a large well-worn armchair.

“I think we waltzed right into Jarl Angus’ bedroom.” she said, feeling confident. This was a perfect way to startle the Jarl, Gertrude would be pleased. However, the big, forest-colored blankets of the four-poster repose called her name. Shamelessly Gusty trotted over and fell onto the bed with a deep sigh. Meanwhile Bunker and Zeccaran began looking around the room, both interested in different knick-knacks.

“I really didn’t think it would be this easy. Is this how it is when something works? I think I have forgotten what it feels like.” he commented while fiddling with a rather out of place snowglobe from the mantle.

“Yeah. I guess this is what it is supposed to be like.” Gusty answered him. “I’m actually really happy we didn’t have to hurt anypony. I have a weird feeling that the Jarls have nothing to do with this.” she mused aloud.

“Is dat what Matriarch told you in secret-bubble earlier?” Bunker questioned. His voice was metallic and brittle sounding from the piece of armor he had picked off the stand with his snout. Gusty looked at him curiously, confused by his matter-of-fact tone, behind the metal.

Rolling over in the bed to fully face him she looked at Bunker suspiciously. “Since when are you smart enough to make such observations?” she squinted. Bunker was far from stupid, he was actually rather intelligent for a pony who could barely read. However, it surprised her that he was actually vocal about something. That meant he was confident about what he had concluded. Either that or he had been taking the reading courses she had forced him into much more seriously than he let on. That was something Gusty would have to ask him about later, a bumbling from Zeccaran drew her attention back across the room.

“Hey, check this out.” Zeccaran said, pointing at some sort of lever. The zebra stood next to the mantle curiously prodding the mechanism. “Wonder what it does…” Pushing the lever down from its upright position a loud mechanical grating and turning overtook the quiet of the private chamber.

Gusty’s ears forced her to look towards a creaking sound now coming from the wall, next to Zeccaran. The wall seemed to be eating itself as a portion was pulled away from a center line and box of sorts was pushed forward. Said box folded open and a full-size claymore was revealed before the box jerked to a stop. In perfect slow-motion the great blade began to tumble down towards the ground. Gusty watched in horror as the sword flipped end over once before bouncing of the stone finishing in the floor near the fireplace. Zeccaran gritted his teeth, Bunker grimaced deep enough to pit the armor plate he was holding, and Gusty slipped off the bed with a gaping jaw wide enough to breath fire.

As if staged by the most predictable playwright imaginable, a rustling came from the door that led into the keep. “Did ya hear that too, lads?” was asked in a refined brogue.

Just short of growling, Gusty angrily pointed at the door with a hoof, while lifting up the ceremonial claymore up off the ground in her magic. She glared directly at Zeccaran with venom acidic enough to melt steel. The zebra responded by waving his hooves about in gestures of surprise and confusion as if their now-in-jeopardy cover was not his fault. She had no time to scold him as the door to the room opened with a long grumbly creak.

The door revealed a broad, grey-old ram. A pair of oblong golden rings hung from his horns that glinted as he stepped into the murk of the room. Past the threshold he paused, surveying the room in confusion as he squinted. A few idle seconds passed before his eyes shot open wide, having spied his unexpected visitors. Before he could react, Gusty slammed the door shut behind him with her magic and held the scavenged claymore to the back of his neck, forcing him to walk deeper into his bedroom, and become surrounded by them, the intruders.

“What business hath three pony assassins with me an’ mine?” he whispered cautiously his eyes falling on Gusty. She slipped around the four-poster and strode up to him confidently, as she pressed Jarl Angus’ blade closer to the back of his neck. It was rather convenient to have the great sword, especially since she and her companions had left in such a hurry. Leaving one’s normal, familiar equipment was usually a blunder. But as they had spoken earlier, maybe, just maybe, things were going right today. Gusty believed that they were, so she pressed on, trying to be as intimidating as she could.

“Lass, ye ain’t goin’ ta kill me wit’ mine own sword are ye?” he asked her. Gusty drew a sneer and pressed the point of the blade into his wool, making her actions speak as loud as her thoughts. It was not enough pressure to injure him, but it was enough from him to step up closer to her and look up at her face dismayed.

As the tension in the room got more desperate, she could feel the eyes of her husband and friend . They moved towards her, not the Jarl. She was unsure why they did not trust her to do what Gertrude had asked, but it did not matter. Gusty decided that she would have to break the act.

Pulling the claymore away from Jarl Angus’ neck, Gusty rotated it in her magic so the flat of the blade matched the flat of the ram’s head. She swung it down with moderate force, more to get his attention than to hurt him, besides he was a ram, blows to the head were something he could take.

“Gerty says hi!” she yelled, breaking into a smile as the blade vibrated with a low tone from the blow.

“Oww…” He rubbed his head his face annoyed. “Are ye out of yer mind? Calling the Dame, ‘Gerty,’ ye crazy mare.” he looked at her, a befuddled grimace replacing his irritation. On the edge of her hearing, Gusty could hear both Bunker and Zeccaran release a stressed sigh. All things considered, she had no idea why they thought she would mess this up, perhaps they had become too accustomed to the trauma of an unsuccessful plan.

“Hold up now.” Jarl Angus looked at her again, squinting with great scrutiny. “It can’t be.” he grumbled under his breath.

“Lass...may seem a bit forward but; are ye Gusty Twilight?” he asked whilst chewing on his cheek. His posture became more confident, more relaxed.

“Maybe.” she retorted coyly. Turning away from him, Gusty spread her wings for her point to hit home. Who else was she supposed to be anyway? It was not as if there were other teal alicorns that had visited the Baylands.

The ram began laughing like the crusty, old Ovis he was, in full. “Now this be a sight for sore eyes indeed!” he spewed out between cackles.

“I had-” he interrupted himself with more laughter, “I had never expected to meet ye, only ever hear’d the stories from mine grandfather when I was but a lamb!” he placed a hoof up to his grey brow. “An’ I never really believed that alicorns can’t age, buh’ I can see I be proved wrong!”

Gusty began laughing along with the old Jarl. He shakily introduced himself before asking her to introduce her companions. She pulled her husband over first.

“This is Bunker, my husband.” Bunker waved silently as she released him.

“Husband! Doth the Dame kennt that!?” Angus balked.

“Yes. She was even more surprised than you!” Gusty responded eagerly

“Well, he is a fair sturdy fellow, but-ah never-ye-mind. Who’s the striped fella over yonder?” he shifted subjects flawlessly.

Lifting up Zeccaran in her magic, Gusty squeaked with pleasure as he squirmed angrily at the forced meeting. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments which Zeccaran used to impart on her the deepest glare of disgruntlement a pony possibly could. Unfortunately, for him this merely spurred her on.

“This is Zeccaran. He is a very good friend of mine.” she rubbed Zeccaran’s messy mohawk as he floated beside her.

“And if my friend would put me down I would like to inform you that the Golden Dame has requested your presence, Jarl Angus.” the zebra grumbled through gritted teeth.

“Mine presence! Ack! Spoil all the fun then lad.” The Jarl threw up his hooves in annoyance. “Now how am I going to say I threw a better feast than she did for her own mother!”

“Is she really, that big of a deal here? Like-Gusty isn’t...actually...Dame Gertrude’s real mom, right?” Zeccaran asked with that, ‘everypony-here-is-crazy’ air to his voice.

“Kin is more than blood ye, irreverent zebra! An’ aye. Gusty Twilight be the great benefactor of the Highlands. The Dame that bring da’ clans ta’gether well before I been conceived.” Jarl Angus answered with a classic brogue bravado. Zeccaran merely sighed and rubbed his temples in response. Gusty and Bunker laughed at their friend and his over-thinking of the situation. However, Angus was quick to interrupt them.

“Sparing the little infiltration into mine home. Let me guess. The old golden Gertrude wishes me to spin up the rumor mill ‘bouts the return of ye, eh, Gusty?” he asked with a waggle of his shoulders and horns. The motion caused his decorations to clink and jingle. “And to come speak before that magical fleece of hers, aye?”

Gusty nodded merrily.

“Then lest we not delay! The finest caravan shall escort us to the Castle Manor of the Dames. Wards! Mine young wards, send for mine entourage, we go to her majesty today!” Jarl Angus bellowed, sauntering towards the door.

Feeling particularly good about herself, Gusty pranced after him bringing her hooves up extra high. “Come on you guys! It's time to get pampered.” she yelled over her shoulder as she reached the door just behind the Jarl. She was not even sure if Zeccaran and Bunker followed, frankly, with such a successful day, Gusty was not worried whether or not they would.

Next Chapter: Act 2: Chapter 5 - The Gravity Estimated time remaining: 18 Hours, 36 Minutes