The gritty silt that collected in the folds and creases of Dim’s frogs did nothing to help his mood. He had been tired mid-fight during the bandit camp, exhausted when the dawn came, and no idea what his current state of being was, but he was reaching the absolute end of his time upright. The sound of the nonstop water dripping was wearing on his last nerve, it made him want to set everything around him ablaze to ablate his anger. Each annoying drip eroded away a spot from his remaining sanity, like a constant trickle of water that bores a hole through solid stone.

This had not been the best excursion, not at all.

As for the dragons, they were recovering rapidly. They had eaten their iron cage and had moved on to eating everything else that was metallic or mineral. Glassware, copper instruments, alchemy stands, piping, tubing, and stills. Of course, the sound of sheared, creaking metal being chewed did nothing to help Dim’s mood, nor his sanity, because every sound had become an annoyance. Even Dreadful was an agonising annoyance, because his dust was everywhere and covered everything, and he was almost certain that he had Dreadful dust go right up his nose.

No amount of sneezing could purge his innards of Dreadful dust.

At long last, the dragons seemed sated. If not sated, satisfied that they had consumed anything and everything that was remotely edible, save for the stone around them. Dim had destroyed the research he had found, including everything gleaned from the Spider Queen in yonder room. This would need to be buried again, the river rerouted, and forgotten about. Of course, it would be found again, for such was the stupidity of dimensional prisons tethered to primary reality. Of course, while it was easy to be judgmental for this practice, Dim could think of no other, no better way of doing it.

“You’re barely standing.” The tall dragon, Prominence, her statement was annoying to the core for Dim, who listened with a sneer. She clucked her tongue, a maternal sound by any species’ standards, and made a gesture with her claws in Dim’s general direction. “Thod, go get him—gently! We’re getting out of here. We’ll fly up that shaft and you’ll carry him out of here.”

“Okay,” Thod replied, grinning his terrifying, toothy grin as he waddled to obey.

Whatever protest that Dim was about to muster died. Thod was a happy dragon—a big grinning happy dragon—and Dim found the idea of hurting his feelings abhorrent. The toothy teen seemed a bit simple-minded, but oddly kind—for a dragon. Both Thod and Prominence were looking better now, they had a little bit of colour, Prominence seemed a whole lot smarter after eating, and Dim was almost certain that they were regenerating in slow-motion even as he watched. Yes, new scales had appeared almost like magic, and he could see that new teeth were poking through their gums.

“Being around ponies for so long has changed us,” Prominence said while Thod lifted Dim from the floor. “I suppose being imprisoned with Thod has changed me as well. Thod, be careful. Mind those claws. This pony is far more fragile than most.”

Thod nodded while cradling Dim in a protective, scaly embrace.

“But you were held captive by ponies,” said Dim to Prominence.

“So I was,” she replied with a nod of her elongated head. “But I cannot help but feel these jerks were the exception, not the standard. Thod and I, we were welcomed into the homes of these ponies and treated with an extraordinary level of kindness. It is as Spike said it would be.”

“Spike?” Dim could feel a faint warmth in Thod, though most of the dragon’s scales were cold. The fire had been stoked though and he suspected that Thod would soon be quite warm.

“Princess Twilight Sparkle’s royal bodyguard.” Prominence grinned, revealing a gap-toothed smile. “Twilight Sparkle is an important pony princess, but she is fragile, as ponies tend to be. So much so that Spike is assigned to protect her, because dragons are naturally tough. Spike alone is trusted with this sacred duty, because even one baby dragon is a formidable defense. Spike is the Princess Protector, and the Pride of Dragonkind. Ember tells us to aspire to be just like him so that we can build a glorious dragon nation. So to follow Spike’s example, many of us have gone out to find helpless ponies to protect.”

“I see.” Dim knew social manipulation on a grand scale when he saw it, but said nothing about it. This was good, beneficial, this was a deed that would aid the world, not tear it apart. Yes, a little manipulation was fine and no one was being hurt by it, which made it okay.

“Say…” A shrewd look appeared in Prominence’s draconic eyes. “You’re a pony in need of protecting. You’re the softest, squishiest pony I’ve ever seen. If Thod and I can keep you safe from harm, we’ll gain a lot of favour with Ember.”

Dim saw right away where this was going, this dragon was being quite vocal about exploiting him, but he was okay with this. Mutual exploitation that was beneficial to both parties appealed to him in some fundamental way. In a rare display, Dim humbled himself. “I am weak and fragile.”

“Thod, we have a new pony project. Let’s get out of here.”

Somehow, the dragons flew through the meat-webs without disturbing a single strand. Thod was, indeed, growing warmer, as if the fire in his belly had been stoked. Many of the spiders waved as Dim ascended, and bade him fond farewells. As cruel as the Spider Queen could no-doubt be, she could also be kind, and he thought about everything that been said. Mostly, he thought about what she had said about being kind to those who showed kindness, while being cruel to those deserving.

He thought about the nature of good and evil, and his place in the greater scheme of things. Perhaps he wasn’t evil, as he had been lead to believe. Could he possibly lie somewhere in the middle? He thought about what the Spider Queen had said about freedom and liberty. His mind raced from one subject to another, one topic to the next, never settling for long with any one idea.

Could he champion the grey?

Something about the notion appealed to him. The grey knight, sallying forth, free of moral convictions and conjunctions, doing what was necessary, and helping those trampled by both sides. From all that he had seen, from all he had witnessed, peasants were just as much in danger by the ruling powers of ‘good’ as they were from the rampaging forces of evil. Sometimes, a ‘good’ ruler had noble intentions, well-meaning intentions, but the peasants, the lowest of the low, endured a measure of suffering in the name of progress. Yes, the more Dim thought about it, the more his mind flitted about from subject to subject in an exhausted haze, the more it made sense to him.

Those at the bottom of society were neither good nor evil; they just existed. They were decent, to be sure, but they were too busy pulling a plough or working the soil to be concerned with good deeds and great acts of goodness. Each day was a struggle to exist. Upon their backs, society was balanced. They carried the weight of the world upon their withers. A ruler, a noble, even a ‘good’ one, might take this for granted, or mighthap forget it completely. If seen only as resources, and not as the living, breathing, necessary beings that they were, bad things could happen even with the most noble of intentions.

Yes… who championed the grey?

A knight… a vizard went forth to protect the peasantry from the monsters. All of the stories he had read stated this to be true. But what if the knight… the vizard… stood between the peasants and the powers-that-be and defended said peasants from unfair policy? Harmful taxes? Could a knight or a vizard still be loyal to the Crown by serving the better interests of the peasants themselves, above the wishes and desires of the Crown itself?

For the first time, Dim saw a future he desired, and it yawned before him like an endless expanse of grey.

The Darks had rotted away in their tower, they had spoiled like milk forgotten on a back shelf. By isolating themselves from the world, they had forgotten the importance of what they protected. Having gone slumming, having gone out into the world and having lived among the disgusting primitives, Dim now remembered the sacred charges of nobility, the ancient social contracts that he was obligated to live by.

Royal blood indeed.

The vault had opened for him for a reason; he had inserted his horn and the vault recognised him for what he was. Dim desperately wanted to believe that this was because of his recent epiphany involving compassion, because his noble ideals had awakened after their long, hibernal slumber. It was compassion and empathy that had saved him from the tortured souls bound to his mother’s spirit projector. He had given them a voice, a means to express their rage, grief, and torment. Their gratitude was now seared into his very soul, tattooed in some language that he did not understand on the inside of his eyelids, a reminder that would haunt him to the end of his days.

What a welcome sight the gunship was… but more importantly, the sight of his friends filled Dim with some unknown emotion. Blackbird was crying while she rushed forwards, and Thod set Dim down upon the ground, unharmed, unscathed, unscratched by sharp claws. Weary, Dim struggled to remain upright, but this concern, this worry was cast aside when Blackbird swooped in, lifted him, and held him pressed to her ribs.

She flew to and fro, ecstatic, and Dim could do nothing to halt her enthusiasm.

“We were about to come looking for you!” Blackbird cried while her wings beat a steady rhythm. “I was losing my mind! I kept telling myself that I was an idiot for letting you go alone! Are you okay? Are you hurt? What happened? You smell terrible! Hey, your stomach is rumbling! Ew, you smell really, really bad, like spoiled meat slathered in rotten vomit gravy!”

It occured to Dim that Blackbird would never stop being Blackbird.

“You found some dragons!” Blackbird swooped down and hovered her titanic mass near Prominence and Thod. “Hi! I’m Blackbird! We’re going to be the best of friends because you brought Dim back and I can’t thank you enough!”

“Dim rescued us,” Prominence replied. “Now we have a new pony protection project.”

Standing a short distance away, Commandant Graham asserted his control upon the situation. “We need to return to Gasconeigh with all due haste. Please, if we could continue this happy reunion on deck so we can be away from this place. Prince Dim, I know that you are tired, but I need to know what happened down there. My apologies, Majesty, but I cannot make a polite inquiry, or give you time to rest and recover. I need to know as soon as possible. Too many lives at stake. Potentially, the world suffers from whatever transpires this day.”

Nodding, Dim understood. “I will tell you everything I know, but I need succor before I collapse. I have worn myself thin and have suffered grievous magical injuries. Give me food and drink, and I will give you information.”

“Done.” Commandant Graham bowed his head. “I want to be gone ten minutes ago. Come, if the wind favours us, we can return to Gasconeigh before nightfall, if we are lucky. As long as this day will prove to be, I fear the night will be even longer. Come, let us do what must be done.”

The tea in the tin cup was soothing and eased the dull ache in Dim’s barrel. His belly was full with scrambled eggs, a wedge of cheese, and a half-dozen apples that were truly delightful. Commandant Graham sat across the table from Dim and the room was crowded with companions—including two dragons who corroborated Dim’s story.

Having told Graham much of what had happened while eating, Dim now settled in for a smoke. He pulled out his pipe, packed it with a pinch of clove-infused cannabis, and lit it with an effortless flick of magic. Across the table, Graham squirmed, uncomfortable, his eyes troubled, his feathers ruffled.

“Trafficking with a demon.” The fussy griffon shook his head and his beak clacked. “Blood sacrifices. All those poor souls… killed for the sake of vile magics. Sometimes, sometimes I hate magic, I really, really do.”

“This gunship flies because of magic,” Motte remarked while Dim puffed away.

The commandant said nothing, but Dim saw the conflict in the griffon’s eyes. Dim had told him everything, with unabashed honesty. Even the part about the accidental act of necromancy. Princess Celestia would know—and would no doubt cast judgment. What grim fate awaited? Dim was just following instructions—her instructions. She had told him to survive and to return home, with the assurance that he would be forgiven. He would return home… eventually… but right now there were pressing matters to look after, like trying to stop the world from collapsing into war. He had already suffered one gross failure to that end, and now Grogar had the pseudo-alicorns.

Dim was certain, well beyond any shadow of a doubt, that if he had resisted the spirits, if he had refused those poor tortured souls and had tried to close himself off from them, he wouldn’t be alive right now to eat scrambled eggs, drink tea, and smoke. He would accept whatever fate he brought upon himself and do so without hesitation or question, because it felt like the right thing to do.

For some reason, the prospect of facing Eerie after this failure was somehow worse than facing Princess Celestia. Dim liked Eerie and there was some kind of weird familial bond. Eerie would be disappointed—she would be hurt by what he had failed to accomplish. Of course, Eerie’s hurt would likely pale in comparison to the harm that might be done to the world because of his failure. Grogar had the fake alicorns now and nothing good would come of it.

“We’ve lost,” Dim said aloud to his companions. “My mother said it best… damn her. While we were busy fighting the bandits, she got one step ahead of us. We might have saved Fancy, but doomed the world in the overall scheme of things.”

Hunched over, her back resting against a bulkhead, Blackbird shook her head. “We don’t know that yet, Dim.”

Commandant Graham added, “We cannot second guess ourselves. Prince Dim… you and your companions have done this country a great service. Working together, you’ve accomplished much—”

“It all feels rather hollow right now,” Dim said, interrupting. “What good is saving Fancy if the whole world falls?”

The griffon’s resolve could be seen burning in his golden eyes. “If Fancy can be restored, if it can be saved, then it can be an ally. Prince Dim… I know this feels like a loss, and maybe it is, I’ll give you that. But the actions of you and your comrades might very well have secured Fancy’s future and the world’s future by extension. Sometimes, you can lose a battle but still win the war. Istanbull has saved an ally… an ally of Equestria, I might add. And the ally of an ally is surely a friend.”

As trite as the words seemed, Dim found some comfort in them.

“We’ve changed the fate of a nation.” Somehow, Blackbird sounded foalish, which belied her immense bulk. “All it cost us was the Bard. I don’t know how I feel about that, trading one life for many. Trading one life I know and cherished for strangers. How am I supposed to feel about this?”

Sighing, Commandant Graham shook his head. “The fight isn’t over yet…”

Author's Notes:

By the pricking of my hooves, something wicked this way grooves.