Working with explosives is a fine art, as much as any painter. Too much bright colors, then the eyes looking upon the masterpiece may not see what you want them too. Too much darks, then it all can turn in to a blob in the end. Putting too much paint to begin with, and everything could meld as one and you ruin the entire work…

The same could be said for pyrotechnics. Too much powder, and you just get a loud bang. Too much shrapnel, and you won’t have room to put the charge to make it lethal. Too much chemicals of one kind, and you have a potential bomb on your hooves that will go off before you want it to…

While his trade may be a teacher on paper, Iron has dabbled in the works with fire for years. Having many of his hairs burned off over time, he’s learned the hard way how it should be handled. Though he still has all his limbs, and for being self-taught for the most part.

That’s a plus in his book.

“Fickle little bastards…” Iron carefully used his hooves to move the impact explosive out of the crucible that he mixed it in, as he packed it on to the front of his own rockets.

The design wasn’t all that hard to understand. Round hits target, ignites fuse, fuse burns to main warhead, and boom… jobs done. The fun part was making it on his own when the time came to do so. With the production floor empty as many of the citizens that worked during the day were given the time off to prep for the counter attack. Iron had the entire facility to himself…

Alone in a workshop, surrounded by chemicals, and metal at his disposal. What could go wrong?

Slipping from his grasp, a single rocket hit the floor right on its nose. While the subtle pop that went with the impact head going off, alerted the colt to its imminent detonation. Normally at this moment, the colt would have been in the ER by now. Though thanks to the fuse that he installed, Iron wrapped an aura around the shell before it hit that point. Containing his own device and its explosive blast. The stallion shuttered while he watched the other rounds rock from the small shockwave that vibrated the room.

Thankfully, they remained upright, and Iron would keep his hooves for another day. “I really should have some foam to put these things in,” he carefully disposed of the ash that remained in his shield over the trash bin, as he set about lying the other rockets on their side with the utmost of care, “Or at least some sand.”

With the dangerous part of his project out of the way, he looked at the near dozen rounds he had made, before checking his watch. “An… hour and twenty minutes,” Iron started to smile, “not bad for a novice demolitionist.” With that, he set about the next task.

Pulling out a copper wire, Iron started to coat it in a thin film of insulation. While it was nothing more than melted rubber, it would do the job. With every strip that he made, the colt fastened it to the inside of his suit, as he ran the wires ends to the end of his own launchers internal barrels. Six tubes laid inside the main housings, and each one would be loaded with his own round so they could be fired separately when needed.

Satisfied with the job, he went over to his table, and pulled the drawer out. Inside were a multitude of gems, most of which he brought from back home. Though any thief that would think of breaking in to the shop and making off with what they would hope to amount to at least a years’ salary, would sadly be heart broken when they brought them to a jeweler to pawn off.

All of them were rough cuts, and subpar gem quality. No merchant would have accepted them if somepony tried to sell ‘em. Iron got many of them from jewelers to begin with for next to nothing. So the colt may not be making a fortune trading gems, but they served his purposes quite well.

Taking a single emerald, Iron lined up a hammer before he dropped it. Spitting the stone, he repeated the process till he had just as much as he needed to complete the trigger. Levitating a bracer over to him, he began setting the smaller stone shards in rudimentary housings that he already installed, and with it, connected it back to the suit.

Finally reaching the final step, the colt fused the coated wires to the various gems so they would stay where he needed them too. Taking a step back, Iron had to admire his suit from where it had come from. At first nothing more than an after school project, had turned in to quite the impressive war machine in his eyes. Two sets of six barrels laid across either of his shoulders, ready for him to duck and fire a salvo of missiles should the need arise.

If that wasn’t enough, he had three of his own pipe bombs on either side of him, ready and at the go. Not even counting the various spells and enchantment that were already in place. If all else failed, he could always go back to basics. The joints infused with his stones would easily win him any hoof wrestling contest, let alone punch through a chest cavity.

“All in all,” he leaned back in to his stool, as he reached back in to another drawer and took out a bottle of Saddleoff Vodka, “not bad for a days’ work…”

As he tried to take a swig of his poison, the colts’ heart slumped in to the pit of his chest when he looked at the bottle. It was bone dry, likely from the days’ work that he’d been doing. “I always did work better drunk…” Iron hiccupped as he leapt from where he sat and on to his feet, in search of something more to quench his thirst.

If it wasn’t for the dimly lit magical torches laden through the factory, Iron would have easily lost his way by now as he went along the path. Though something else started to perk his ears up, not the usual sounds that one would hear while in this place. No, the sound of metal being forged and fired was instead replace by something far more solemn…

Crying.

Using his ears, Iron zeroed in on where the sound was coming from. It didn’t take him long at all, there aren’t many places to hid in a place like this. Opening up another shop used by a different artisan. He peeked his head around the corner, only to leave it stuck there for a moment, while he took in the sight.

Grace laid there slumped to the floor, as she propped herself against a wall. The normally so composed mare that he was used to seeing, a long distant memory behind the tired and bloodshot eyes of one that had been balling her eyes out moments ago. Her mane was a wreck as it covered nearly her entire face, while the rest of it draped over her shoulders.

Even her wings flopped to the sides of her, as they seemed to be the only thing keeping her balanced. With neither of her eyes paying him any heed. He watched as Grace picked up a bottle to tequila, and gulped down a few hearty mouthfuls in one go.

“Now I’m all for drinking away my sorrows,” Iron muttered just loud enough for her to hear, as her head popped up to meet his gaze, “but even I know when to call it quits.”

“You…” Grace sneered at first, before coving her mouth and face up after realizing her position, “What can I do for you?” she asked, trying her best to hide herself in her time of weakness, and recomposed herself as best she could. Attempting to get to her feet though, the mare stumbled and fell where she once stood.

With a quick reaction, Iron already was by her side, giving her a literal shoulder to lean on. “I think in this case it’s more what I can do for you…” he peered down to her, “How long have you been down here?” he asked while keeping the mare steady.

“I…” she hiccupped, “Don’t remember, not that long.”

Though the empty bottle of gin in the corner threw that defense out the window the moment Iron saw it, “Right…” he said drawn out, while he guided the princess as he walked.

“Where are you taking me?” the princess asked with a sudden moment of coherence.

“If you’re going to drink, then may you drink with me,” Iron said as he pushed open the door, and picked up the half drank bottle of liquor. Before leading her down the hall to his own shop, “At least then you can’t hurt yourself.”

Throwing open the door to his shop, Iron plopped the mare down on the stool as she started to wobble at first. Though once she was settled, the colt went to work like he always had. Removing the rockets from the work bench, he slowly slid them in to the barrels with care. This time if something happened he wouldn’t be the only one getting hurt, and Iron would rather not have Assault on royalty added to his rap sheet.

With the new setting, Grace found herself just looking around at the cluttered, but at the same time well kept, work area. ‘Amber was right,’ she thought through her haze, ‘he does know where everything is,’ Grace realized as she saw how some of his mind worked. Saddened, that she could only see the inner workings of it through an inebriated mind.

“So what’s eatin’ ya?” he asks out of the blue.

Though in truth she should have expected that to come up at some point, “You… wouldn’t understand…” she tried to deviate the subject as best she could.

Though the princess doesn’t get her mind this ripe as often as Iron does, so needless to say, the colts’ quicker on his wit than normal. “Horse crap…” he said flatly to her, without even breaking eye contact with his work, “I’ve heard that excuse numerous times from my students, and not once have I not been able to understand something about what’s on their mind,” he peered over his shoulder to her, “So try me.”

Whether it was the blunt way he talked to her, the sincerity in his voice, or maybe the liquid courage coursing through her system. Grace took a deep breath, and spilled her mind, “I let them down…” she said quietly, watching as Iron froze for a moment from what he was doing, before getting right back to it, “all of them… a town was destroyed, and I had no way of stopping it.”

“You’re right, you didn’t,” he agreed with her surprisingly, “so why beat yourself up over it.”

“Because I’m the bucking princess!” she shouted, as she watched Iron nearly drop some sort of shaped pipe, before he caught it midair with his magic, “It’s my job to predict these things, it’s my job to protect those under me, it’s my job to stop any of this from happening,” she started to rant in her drunken haze, “this is the first time I’ve ever had to think of how to fight a war, and I just royally bucked up one town and allowed it to be wiped off the map!”

“Yes, a town literally at the edge of your nation was destroyed, by an enemy that was already right on their door step,” at first she couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not. Though then his words started to make sense, even before he explained them for her, “you couldn’t have known or even sent troops out to protect them in time.”

“I could have had troops already there and in the other border towns that dot the area…”

“True… though I’m fairly certain that you learned from that mistake, and that’s exactly what you’ve done now,” Iron looked in to her eyes, and saw the small click of understanding.

‘He’s in my head…’ she told herself, ‘I did do that after all.’

“My point exactly,” Iron pointed out to her, reading her thoughts, “you made a mistake, ponies died, and you learned from it… you can’t be expected to get it right all the time. Ya think I am?”

Grace slowly rolled her eyes as best she could at him, “You’ve been right about more than I have so far… the confidence, and feeling of being so self-sure just pours out of you.”

“I’m not nearly as sure of myself as you may think…” he led on, causing her brow to raise.

“Really now, I never would have guessed…”

“No, seriously,” Iron made his point as he slid the last round in to the barrel, and gave her his undivided attention, “I don’t know what I’m doing half the time… as I told you, I make it up as I go mostly,” he reminded her, “yea it seems like I know what route to take, or what choice to make, but that’s just because either I’ve done it before and have seen the outcomes of the wrong choices… or I’m shooting from the hip.” The colt went silent for the first time in a long while, as he walked right up to her side, and slid himself on the work bench next to her.

Sliding the bottle of tequila out from behind her, Iron twisted the top off as he took his own swig of the concoction, before passing it to the princess as she did the same. “You’re worried about what decision to make when it comes to war, and here I am telling you that there is no right decision,” she peered over top of the bottle before finishing her gulp, “soldiers will die, good ponies will die, some will be wounded for life… that’s just how war goes.”

“But not under my command…” Grace poised, as she glanced off to the side. Trying to hide a few more of the tears that begged to fall, “I’m supposed to know what to do, how to save them.”

“Sometimes you just can’t save them all,” Iron rested a gentle hoof on the mares’ shoulder, grabbing the attention that he needed to have, “all you can do is come up with a plan, hope it’s a good one, and when they bodies start coming back… learn to live with it.”

For on the rare occasion, Grace wasn’t sure what to say to the colt. Here’s an unassuming stallion, a teacher at that, spilling her a lesson about war and bloodshed. One that she never got when she was younger, and being groomed to take the throne. With a gentle nod, she accepted his words for what they’re worth. Yet couldn’t help but keep the conversation going, “That’s easy for you to say,” Grace huffed as she set the bottle between them, “you’re a fighter… you know what to expect from it…”

“Also, not true…” Iron started to snicker at her, as he picked up the bottle and took another drink to clear his nerves, “I’m not a fighter at all, I just fight when it’s the right thing to do… I don’t go looking for it.”

“And yet you’re so good at making instruments of war…” Grace gazed over to his ever growing suit, wondering to herself what half the attachments that she saw even do.

“Just because I’m good at something, doesn’t mean I always like doing it…” Iron told her, as she started to see even more of the inner workings of his mind, “a mare working in a brothel may be the best lay in the nation, able to pleasure and please a colt six ways to Sunday… but that doesn’t mean she likes doing it.”

Choking on her own breath from his example, Grace held down the burn that came from the mixture in her stomach, “Okay… good example, bad timing…”

“Hehe… sorry,” Iron smiled sheepishly at her, adverting his eyes away from the mare.

“Not your fault,” she waved it off with a hoof, “though that does paint a rather vivid image.” Grace smiled back at him, as she watched the smirk on his face mellow out in to a sincere beam, “So if you’re not the fighter that I see you as… why go out and fight in a war you want no part in?”

“Sense of duty, bringing evil doers to justice, moral obligation… sense of purpose,” Iron rattled them off as though he was reciting it in a mirror, “All in all, I like to help my fellow equine, and if that means picking up a sword to do it. Then by all means, I’ll sharpen my blade.”

Grace started to chuckle lightly to herself, drawing only a confused stare from the colt. Looking back up to him, the princess hid the rosy cheeks under her vail of hair. Though whether or not it was from the alcohol, or the simple banter between them, she didn’t know or even care. “I guess there’s more to you then it would seem…” she said simply to him.

All Iron could do was return the expression, “and to you as well…”

Looking up in to his hazel irises, the princess held her tongue as best she could while she allowed the words of Irons’ own friend to play in the back of her mind. Comparing it all to what she knows now about him, a different light shined over the colts’ shoulder as they sat there in the shop.

‘He does mean well,’ Grace told herself, ‘just doesn’t always end up doing well…’

“Exactly how much did you talk to Amber… about me?” he asked, catching her off guard.

“How did you-”

“Yeah, you didn’t say those last words in your head,” Iron pointed out her fumble, as Graces’ face flushed as a result.

“I… simply asked her about what goes on in that head of yours,” she played off a bit, not wanting to go too much in to detail. After all, she learned more from Free than she did Amber. “She said that you weren’t all that bad of a colt, and once somepony managed to get through your shell… you could actually be rather sweet…”

“Well drat,” Iron leaned back against the wall behind him, as he started to chuckle awkwardly, “the secrets out…”

“I guess it is,” casually Grace extended a wing on to his side, patting him on the shoulder from where she sat, before playfully winking at him, “though don’t worry… your secret’s safe with me.” After the reassuring smile from the colt, the princess started to look for something to change the subject to one a little lighter. Thankfully, she had to look no farther than the stand before her, “what’s with the barrels on your back plate though?” she pointed to the suit.

Instantly his eyes lit up as he looked at his armor once more, “Oh that, it’s a rocket launcher of some kind,” the confused expression from her begged further explanation, something he gladly delivered, “Okay so it’s a way to propel bombs really far from me, at a target of my choosing, really really fast…”

“I know what a rocket is!” she huffed playfully at him, “though why do you have them on your back?”

“Well… back in the kingdom we were attacked with something similar, it took out a boat in a single shot,” Iron pointed out to her, “I saw how powerful it was, so I wanted to make one of my own…” hopping from his perch, the colt wandered over to the contraption, as he drew out the bracer to show her the inner workings. “The rockets are set off from simple energy transfer from these emerald shards here,” he explained as he pointed to them, “their insulated from the other gems with a rubber resin so that way when I activate another spell or enchantment, it doesn’t set them off.”

“Okay, so you do have some safety in mind…” Grace added while she thought of it more, “have you tested it yet?”

“Have you seen anything flying about in the city lately, or random buildings missing?” he asked, drawing only a scowl from the mare, “then that answers your question… though I’ll get to it when I can. For now, it all should work, in theory. Gives one hell of a punch, just like these,” Iron turned the suit to her, showing off the holsters that held his own bombs, “a little more thought out than the one I brought to your chambers… I shouldn’t have to tell you what they are.”

“Creative, deadly… and likely to blow up in your face,” she left off. Though another thought buzzed around the princess’s head, one that she had been meaning to ask sense day one of hearing what he could do, and did do in his off time, “Though I have to ask… why armor?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Armor, and obviously weapons… I know Free in his spare time likes to draw and write fan fiction about some comics that he’s read. Silvertongue likes to meander in cooking as a hobby. I myself can get lost in a good book more often than not… and I’ll admit, dancing is always a fun pastime for me,” Grace started to blush as she looked over the suit once more, all the hours that he had put in to it, and for what? To sit in his class room or back at home gathering dust, until recently that is, “my point is… you have many other talents or skills that I’ve heard of or even seen. So why stick with something that either causes death, or protects from it?”

It wasn’t the first time that he had gotten the question, enough so that he had a response to simply divert it to a dead end that would end the conversation should he not want to go any further with it. Only two other ponies really know why he dabbles in this field, and both of them have known him for years to begin with.

‘Screw it… let’s see what she says,’ Iron throws in the towel, “I would tell you that it’s simply a hobby that allows me to show my students what they can do if they use both their natural abilities, and their own will. Something to give them reference to as what they could accomplish,” he starts off with the simple answer.

Though the all telling eye of the mare glared through the mask that he had on, knowing there’s more to it than that. “However, if you ask Freefall, or even Amber,” Iron took a breath, “they can tell you that I have a knack for trying to protect what’s on the inside, by making armor to defend the outside… ponies like to use what one has to offer,” the many times that bit him in the flank, created the stallion he is today, and one he learned to not mind being, “whether is money, stability… or even friendship. Many would drain you dry if they had the chance.”

With those last words Irons’ head dipped a little lower than she was used to seeing, as his eyes trailed off in to the distance away from her. The thought’s that he had going through his mind rearing their ugly heads, as the princess brought up a part of him that he didn’t like to chat with any more. Yet still would find an ear to whisper in to on occasion, as he was reminded of his faults.

While it took a moment for his words to sink in, Grace saw what he meant immediately. Simply looking at the change in demeanor from him a few moments ago talking about something he loved, to now a stallion who looks like he’s ready to off himself. Any creature could tell that there’s far more to him, than he ever lets on.

Here’s a colt, who on the face of things is vulgar to no end, as crude as a teenager in some cases, curses like a sailor at times, has a total disregard of his own safety, and probably should have been admitted to some institution years ago, yet somehow is now teaching the youth of the nation…

And all of it, is a mask, to hide the gentlecolt underneath…

The colt that he wants no one to see, because in the end, he fears that they’ll just use it, and leave him in the dust. Like many others seem to have done before to him. So to protect that, Iron pushes others away, and only keeps those close to him that know himself for who he really is… a sweet, kind, caring young stallion.

“I’m a kind hearted bastard with a heart of gold, problem is it’s ten karats so it’s strong, but not that pure,” Iron spilled the line that he has rehearsed over and over again to himself. All while he adverted his gaze from her, taking an interest instead in the broom off to the corner, if only to give him something to steer his eyes away.

Easing herself down from the stool, mostly so she could get her footing. Grace waltzed over in front of the stricken colt, as he never even noticed her approaching him. ‘Ever the strange colt… though Amber and Free are right about him more than I give them credit for,’ she noted in the back of her mind, “I see that now…” Grace whispered as she laid a hoof on his slumped shoulder, beckoning the colt to rise up. “I don’t know about ten karats,” her soft spoken words caused the colts’ ears to twitch, “I think it’s safe to say that you’ve reached about fourteen by now…”

“Oh you give me too much credit.”

“Oh contraire,” Grace pulled his head up so their eyes would meet. Standing up to his fullest, the mare bent her neck to stare him down as if he was an inch tall, “you don’t give yourself enough of it to begin with… you’re a good colt. Your friends can attest to that… I… can attest to it.”

“So that’s what we are now, huh?” Iron smirked at her, while he looked down at the mare, “Friends?”

“Well…” Grace took a breath and awkwardly scratched the back of her head with a hoof, trying to keep her eyes off him for a moment while she got her own thoughts in order, “I’m not calling you my enemy.”

All things considered, she wanted to kick the colts’ flank after meeting him for five minutes, though if she did that and learned what she knows now. Grace doesn’t know if she would have forgiven herself for showing so much malice, to a pony who wants nothing more than to be a good colt to those he cares for.

Without a second thought to the matter, the princess clenched her throat, and put her wings around the stallion standing a head taller than she. Pulling him in to the embrace, Irons’ heart and mind stopped for a second, before it finally started to beat a tune he hadn’t heard in a while, ‘Odd feeling… aint it?’ he questioned himself.

Leaning to the embrace, Iron put a hoof around her and brought her in a little closer with a squeeze, careful not to crush the petite Pegasus. “I was expecting a wing across the face from you, before I ever got this…”

“Hehe, well there’s still time for that you know?” she chuckled at him, before breaking off the hug, “You’re a good colt, remember that…” Grace let a sincere smile cross her face before she finished, “please?”

“Just how much of this is alcohol talking?”

“Oh probably a good deal,” she nodded her head vigorously, “though I’m not that drunk, I’ll still remember this in the morning…”

“You mean later…” Iron looked up at the clock. It had already been a few hours’ sense he was down here, and their little talk took up even more time. With the clock striking three in the morning, he looked down to the Pegasus rubbing her eye as the time and the drink finally hit her. “Come on, let’s get you to bed…” Iron put a hoof around her, as he once again guided the mare towards the door of the shop.

“I think I know my own way,” she started to push away from him playfully, before her feet decided otherwise and forced gravity to take over.

“Nope, I gotcha,” he caught her for the second time tonight, “besides, it’s a large castle… and I’m heading to bed myself anyway.”

“I hope in a separate one from mine?” she batted her eye lashes at him.

“Well unless you’re offering…” he paused for a moment, waiting for her eyes to grow from their sockets, “of course, your drunk so no… ask me that when you’re sober and you might get a different answer.”

Keeping her head away from his own, the mare started to giggle at the playful attitude that she mixed with radiating from him. Although she wouldn’t admit it out loud to any other, Grace did rather enjoy the little chat they had while sharing a bottle back and forth. ‘Perhaps again sometime…’ she started to smile at the thought, probably more than she should have allowed. Though Grace didn’t care right now, she wanted sleep, before the eye lids of hers took over entirely and she passed out on the floor.

“Thank you though…” she said quietly, watching as his face asked what for? Without even uttering a word, “For hearing me out, I didn’t mean to get completely sloshed down here… but thank you for hearing what I had to say, and doing some spilling of your own.”

Iron simply shrugged his shoulders, “It’s what I’m here for…”

“Is that so…” she looked at him coyly, before batting her eyes once more, “and don’t worry… your secret is safe with me… Iron.”

Looking down to her once more, a small smile started to stretch itself from ear to ear on the colt upon hearing his actual name again. Nodding his head lightly to her, he continued to guide the mare, “And thank you, for both listening, and keeping it… Grace.”