Amandine’s office was relatively quiet at this time of the day. A couple crewmembers would come from time to time to check the duty board for their next shift, or to pick up some paperwor; but barring that the ‘recce team’ was alone in the meeting room. Micha had left quickly to go look after Andy, the griffon’s seat in the meeting room soon occupied by Thanasis who came in with a wide yawn. The Greek sphinx was finally fully-rested after having had to lift Fugro’s engine, though he wasn’t quite up to snuff about what had happened.

“So how do we go about it?” Radiant finally asked after watching Aleksei turn her new bracelet in her talons for the past five minutes.

“Hell if I know...” The hippogriff shrugged. “We need to get Codsworth and Finnegan to the Giant’s Ring somehow, and they need to touch the vortex.”

“Well, isn’t the bracelet supposed to help? What was it Angelo called it again?” Thanasis asked.

“The Golden Band of Speechcraft.” Radiant filled in.

“Sounds corny.”

“Because it is.” Aleksei clicked her beak. “Dude’s a geek, what do you expect him to come up with?.”

“Eh, if the goddess told the truth then technically the name fits.”

“Still corny.” She clicked her beak.

She leaned back in her seat, glaring a hole in the ceiling. The artifact was probably useful, she just didn’t know how she was supposed to use it. Idly, she plucked a broken feather from her crest and used it to scratch behind her ear.

“What if we kidnapped Codsworth?” Thanasis supplied. “Hit him with a shovel and toss his body in the vortex.”

“You got a degree in dumb ideas or what?” Scarface deadpanned. “No, the problem with taking Codsworth away from Carrickfergus is that if he’s gone, then the place is completely defenseless.”

“They have weapons you know.” Aleksei pointed out.

“I wouldn’t count gardening tools from the local DYI store as ‘weapons’, no.” He shook his head softly, one hand running through his mane. “I’d say… just ask to dispatch an armed team to keep them safe while they’re negotiating with Epona, but the IRA might take that as siding with the Loyalists.”

“Not if we tell them why we’re doing it.” Radiant said. “I’d go first to the City Hall and tell them upfront.”

“What makes you so sure they will accept?”

The pegasus crossed his forehooves and leaned over the table, a frown on his muzzle.

“Okay, so maybe I’m basing this off of what usually happens on my home planet, but you told me Epona is a local deity?”

“More or less, yes.” Aleksei replied, making a so-so gesture with her claw.

“Then I bet the IRA won’t even hesitate when we offer to take them to her. They’ll think she’ll side with them over the...”

“Loyalists.” Scarface supplied. “But I’m not so sure about that. Epona is part of a very dated religion, and St Patrick is probably one of the biggest figures the Irish look up to for national unity.” He paused. “Don’t quote me on that though, just an assumption. They’re Christians, Catholics and Protestants. But not Pagans.”

“So you think they wouldn’t listen to her?” Thanasis said. “That doesn’t make sense! Sure the IRA is mostly Catholics, but it’s not like the Loyalists are Pagans either. They claim they’re the locals, the actual people of this island. In my books, they will think Epona is gonna side with them. What’s your take, boss?” The sphinx then turned his head towards Aleksei.

For a moment, she didn’t respond, still turning her bracelet in her claws pensively.

“I’ll side with you on that, kaķēns.” She finally said. “If this bracelet works as advertised, convincing Finnegan to dive in the vortex will be easy. We’re gonna start with him then.”

“And Codsworth?” Scarface crossed his arms, the Bulgarian not looking too convinced.

“If we can appease Finnegan and explain we’re not siding with the Loyalists, then I’ll ask the Captain to deploy a combat-ready team to protect them while the negotiations are taking place.” She said.

“That’s not what I meant. For all you know he might think you’re leading him into an ambush.” He fired right back.

Aleksei opened her beak to reply, but no word came out. She scowled and clicked her beak a few times.

“Idea.” Radiant piped in, raising his hoof. “Equestria used to do diplomacy a lot you know… and a lot of times that was as third party.”

“Well, explain.” She shrugged with her wings.

“What we need to do is provide security for both groups.” He went on. “We secure the venue so that they won’t be attacked, and we escort them there with the… what’s the name of the big army trucks again? The ones with eight wheels?”

“The Piranhas.” Scarface said.

“Yeah, Piranhas.” Radiant opined. “So, we use the tank at the vortex, and use the Piranhas to escort both parties there. That’s two of them, and we can still use the third one to stay behind and protect Carrickfergus.”

Aleksei blinked.

“That… is surprisingly well thought out. Good job.”

“Thanks!” Radiant beamed. “Everyone agrees?”

Thanasis and Scarface nodded in unison.

“Fantastic! So we can move on and do just that then!”

“I don’t think so. Not yet at least.” Aleksei said, raising her talons to halt him. “We’d need to deploy all armored vehicles at once. Any of you notice the problem with that?”

“Ah… not enough ponies?” Radiant deflated.

“If by ponies you mean people, then yes, we’re understaffed. Might have to wait until Geert gets back from the Derry to do that, and either way I’ll have to run this by the Captain for approval. If only for crewing matters.”

“Sounds a lot like we’ll be on standby for a while.” Scarface muttered.

“You are, Iwill have to sort out a lot of paperwork before we put that in action. You can go back to napping under vehicles in the repair bay.”

“I don’t nap on the job!”

That only earned him unconvinced looks from all three sailors around him, including Radiant.

“At least not when I’m behind schedule...” He mumbled before standing up. “Anyway…Gotta clock in some time at the workshop. Those engines ain’t gonna fix themselves, see ya.”

Thanasis echoed the same words, talking about how he had to go help with the bending press to get the new hull plates ready as he followed the gargoyle out of the office. That left only Aleksei and Radiant inside, with the hippogriff jotting down some notes about their future course of action.

“So...” Radiant began after a minute, nervously rubbing his forehooves together.

Aleksei just quirked a feathery brow at him.

“What’s next?” He asked.

“Paperwork for me. You… I suggest you report to Schmitt to help with the oil reconditioner. Last I heard they were preparing to assemble the full-scale model. You read the PDF I gave you on oil?”

“I did. Complicated stuff… But I was wondering… I only ever hang out with Angelo and Carlos. Maybe you’d want to hang around, once?”

Across the table, he watched the light green hippogriff set down her pencil with a sigh. She tucked her mane feathers behind her ears – a gesture he saw her do a lot- before she stared him the eye.

“Alright, I think I need to put a stop to this.”

“To what?” Radiant gulped, both ears folding up against his skull.

“You do know I used to be male, right?”

“Yeah...” He shrugged with his wings. “Angelo told me, it’s not hard to figure out. How’s that a problem? Micha’s alright with her situation.”

“Radiant. Unlike Micha and Danny, I will not settle with being stuck as a female. As such, I don’t want a date with you. Sorry.” She explained in a firm tone.

He sagged in his seat.

“Not even for trying?”

“No. Even less so. Epona yesterday? I asked her if she could make me male again, and she gave me a quest.” Not exactly, but she pointed her in the right direction at least. “It may take time, but I will get my dick back.”

“Okay then...” Radiant sighed. “I’m sorry if it bothered you.”

“It’s fine.” Aleksei gave a small smile. “Better get it out now than to let it become awkward, right?”

“Can I ask you something?”

Aleksei opined.

“I’m pretty sure I heard somepony on Rhine say they didn’t like it, but that they were open for trying. Why don’t you, then?”

“That’s because they haven’t read the same books as I have.” She clicked her beak. “I’ve read plenty of them where a man – sorry, male-, turned into a female. In nearly every single story, if the male ever started romance as a female, that was the point of no return. Past that, they’d never want to be male again. Now look at Micha and Danny… and you get my point. Sure, they’re happy, but I was born a male, and I’ll be male again.”

“Uh...” Radiant blinked. “Never heard that before.”

“I like unpopular stories.” She stated simply. “It’s not gonna be easy, but my goal is set.”

“Okay then...” He shook his head briefly. “Regardless, I won’t bother you with that anymore, but my point still stand: I only hang out with Carlos and Angelo.”

“If it’s only as friends, then I’d be happy to join. Wanna watch movies maybe? Tells a lot about human culture.”

“I’d be delighted.” Radiant beamed.

“After dinner then. Now, I believe I said something about Schmitt needing some help.” She pointed a talon towards the door.

“Sure thing boss!” The pegasus exclaimed, giving her a mock salute with his wing before leaving.

Aleksei silently watched him depart. She knew her body would have loved to try out sex – curse the Event for making her a heterosexual female- but it was better that way. She sank down in her seat with a groan. That had been easy, but she damn well knew this wouldn’t be the only time she’d have to repel advances, and she’d have to keep a tight eye on how much she ate otherwise an accidentally activated heat-cycle might ruin her plans.

In another plane of existence, Epona smiled as she looked at Aleksei through her scrying pond.

Her bracelet wasn’t just a speechcraft enhancer.

It was much to Rock’s reluctance that Starswirl dragged the bulky Earth Pony across the bridge and right on Morgane’s doorstep, where the large door almost loomed above him from atop the steps that made up the porch, next to which he could see a single brass bell hanging from a mast.

Rock threw Star a glance, waiting for the ghost to give him an encouraging nod before he grabbed the rope below the bell in his teeth and shook it firmly. The bell rang only once, a loud gong that caused a ripple to reverberate across the underground lake’s surface.

He felt a chill run down his spine, and that wasn’t the kind that occurred whenever his ghost of a friend brushed too close to him.

He rolled his shoulders. Was the offering basket in full sight? Just maybe nudge the bow on the handle a bit…

Footsteps stopped him before he had time to tug on the ribbon with his teeth.

The door opened, its hinges creaking as the tower’s interior came into view, along with its occupant. It was one of the ladies Rock had seen on his first day on Earth, near the Golden Tree. The same one that reminded him of both a breezie and an alicorn. From up close, she looked more like a young maiden, except with an air about her that seemed… off. As if he was staring at a mirage, a fragile reflection on the water.

She towered above him, taller than Merlin even, with a thin frame and long limbs whose pale pearly flesh shone with an ethereal glow, covered by a wispy black dress with purple trim. The dress was completed by a pearl net wound through the curly black locks that ran all the way down to the small of her back, and a thin black veil that barely covered her face. It made her features hard to distinguish, but there was one thing it didn’t hide:

Her eyes.

Two crackling purple embers, devoid of a sclera or even pupils. They were just two powerful balls of purple magic that glared at the two visitors, radiating power and… contempt? That’s what it felt like to the Earth Pony, though she only addressed him a passing glance before swiveling her head towards his ghostly companion.

Oh, and she had a set of folded dragonfly wings on her back, the frail, tattered membranes trailing behind her like a cloak.

“How brave of you to turn up right on my doorstep.” She finally said sardonically in Latin. “Want me to finish you off, darling? I thought you’d be stuck in that tomb for a while longer at least.”

“The casket was nice, but the runes in my back itched a bit so I decided to go for a walk.” Merlin replied, calmly leaning on his staff.

“Seems to me like you forgot something in the process.” She put one hand on her hip, unwittingly showing Rockhoof her razor-sharp purple nails and pentagram sigils on the back of her hand.

Strangely enough, the one hand with the pentagram was as youthful as the rest of her body, whilst the other was shriveled up and covered in black inky runes, its skin probably more fitting of an old crone than the youthful maiden to which it was attached.

“Ah yes, silly me. I left my body under the tomb.” Merlin slapped himself on the cheek with a laugh. “To be fair it was a bit pruny after I overslept for so long.”

“Ahem, excuse me.” Rockhoof coughed. “I can’t quite follow. Language barrier, you know?”

Merlin twirled his staff in his hand before unceremoniously bonking his companion on the head in a shower of sparks.

“Better?” The wizard asked, still in Latin.

“Yeah, thanks. Still...” He rubbed his forehead with a hoof, his circlet would have slipped off if he didn’t braid it into his mane. “Ouch.”

“Anyway dear, where were we at?” He turned back towards Morgane.

“Your escape. And don’t call me dear...” She trailed off menacingly. “You’re on thin ice already.”

“I’d have thought spending a couple centuries sealed under a stone and, need I remind you, dying would have been enough to settle our disagreements.”

“Which is exactly why I didn’t exorcise you the moment I saw you the other day in the clearing.” She said and snapped her fingers, a fountain of purple sparks erupting from them. “Now why you’d tempt fate and turn up on my doorstep, I’d very much like to know.”

“We have a couple questions, and an offering to make it worth your time milady.” Rock interjected, pointing a hoof at the basket filled with alchemical components.

Morgane was silent for a moment, her crackling eyes appraising the contents of the offering before ever so subtly dipping her chin.

“Get in. And don’t expect to be the only ones asking questions. What’s your name pony?”

“Rockhoof.” He supplied. “Former Pillar of Equestria…”

“And here’s a question I’ll have to ask.” She said, beckoning them inside with her hand. “There are some things you haven’t been telling me, Merlin.”

“In due time, but I’d rather we start with our own questions before we get to yours.” The ghost wizard insisted, flicking his hand to pull a little stool towards him as he sat down at a table.

Rock took a look at the room. It was pretty much what he’d expect from a witch’s lair, even bearing a measure of resemblance to Meadowbrook’s former hut back in Equestria. There was a copper pot boiling over an open fire, filling the room with the smell of burnt pine and herbal medicine. Light inside was provided by swarms of fireflies trapped inside of glass jars, their soft glow just enough to spot the many shelves and alcoves around the table that Morgane used to store parchments, pots of ingredients, and a couple artifacts.

A gnarly staff with a purple gem, its haft covered in pentagrams and runes.

A couple old and probably enchanted weapons that thrummed with power.

And a pole with a carved golden eagle tucked away in a corner of the room. Its haft was broken in half, and the statue had a chipped wing, but the metallic surface still glowed with a magic green sheen, its vacant eyes staring imperiously at the Earth Pony. At its base, where it connected to the pole, Rockhoof took note of a little plate with the letters ‘SPQR’ and ‘Legio IX’ proudly engraved on it.

“I’d offer you a drink Merlin, but I think you’re past that point.” Morgane snarked before sitting down in front of the wizard, Rock quickly clambering on a stool to join them.

Brave as he may be, he was smart enough to know not to screw around with wizards at this point. If Morgane was intent on ignoring him, then he was all too happy to let her. He turned his head back towards his friend, watching the wizard twirl a strand of beard hair between his fingers for a few moments before finally looking the witch in the eyes, ghostly orbs meeting crackling purple embers.

“First thing first...”

“How me and Vivian survived I bet?” She cut him off. “Planar magic. That’s what. And a whole lot of passive enchantments.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“So I’m sure you missed it, but magic faded away from the entirety of Europe after a while. For humans that may not have been much of a problem, but there were tons of magical creatures and magic practitioners that were so far deep that no magic would have spelled a death sentence. A druid would have lived; but a fay like me? Not really. So we had to do something against that, and changing ideologies to make people believe magic was still a thing wasn’t possible anymore. Too late.

We held a conclave made up of mages hailing from all over the continent, and we noticed one thing. Divine realms all over weren’t affected by the… drought, so to speak. They were like anoasis in a desert, and I’m thus positive all Gods of old survived the magical drought. Regardless… we all decided we had to mimic that.

That proved difficult because, really, we didn’t have the knowledge to achieve the feat easily. Planes weren’t popular before that. Why create one when an isolated domain with good wards could do the same job just fine?”

Rockhoof raised a hoof.

“Sorry, not quite following. What’s a plane?”

“A magical realm, an artificial dimension that’s outside of reality, with a finite number of access points – as in, places where its own ley lines connect with that of the planet-. With divine planes, they’re usually formed by natural human magic pooling together in a reservoir of sorts. Gods follow shortly after, and they act like stewards of that reservoir, granting ‘miracles’ to their believers by using the pooled magic. It can be replicated by a mage, though within limits. We needed to make them as durable as divine realms, so size-wise, that was a cut down from country-size to...” She waved her arm around. “This cave network for me, for instance. The magic pool in here was costly to gather, but it was enough to let me survive all the time it took for that new magic to wash over the planet.”

“And how many mages did that?”

“As far as I know, most of the ones that would have died from the lack of magic. Some fled to lands where magic still flowed, over the Ocean or beyond the Mare Nostrum, but at least to me it was clear the drought would affect those lands too, eventually. No point delaying the inevitable.” She explained.

“You mentioned magical creatures.”

“I did.” She nodded. “The sapient ones – and magical plants too actually-, we could shelter in our planes. Some were taken in by the divines they were tied to as well; so that only left the truly feral ones. Enchantments would have to do. It’s integrated in the wards we put on the forest. At first it drew all ferals inside the wards, then it would seal them away until a magical surge occurred, implying we would either release them, or magic would come back.”

Morgane paused, casting a glance towards a stack of old rolled-up parchments.

“Awfully finicky mind, designing a ward that doesn’t disappear when it runs out of magic.”

“Did you put a teleportation protection on it?” Merlin quickly asked.

“Correct. That the matter? You’re keyed in it you know, you can ‘port around just fine.”

“That’s about the monsters from my planet, not him.” Rockhoof said. “Some demons crossed over to escape immortals where I’m from, and the goons they brought along had the brilliant idea of bringing their menagerie of monsters along.”

In a flash, Morgane’s staff had flown into her open hand, instantly pointed right at Merlin.

“Explain. Now.” She hissed.

“Now now...” The old wizard grimaced, hands raised. “I promise Equestria didn’t intend to do that. The demons just… learned of the convergence by accident.”

Her staff’s gem crackled, its tip pressing against Merlin’s beard and actually touching the ghost whose ethereal body rippled with painful-looking purple waves.

“Merlin...” She growled threateningly.

“That’s why we had to hybridize the Golden Tree! We’re trying to arm Earth to deal with the demons.”

The staff lowered, and the wizard let out a relieved breath. This was going to take a while, particularly when it came to telling his past lover he was technically a pony as well. ‘Hey Morgane, did you know you technically fucked a horse way back? A magic midget unicorn!’

He probably shouldn’t phrase it that way...

“Well this is boring.” Ivan complained.

“You know you could be snoozing below deck, don’t you?” Geert reminded.

The two of them were in the trawler’s wheelhouse, a much more cramped place than what they’d grown used to on Amandine. It still had most of the equipment Geert needed to sail properly, just arrayed in a different manner and with much less space to stretch her legs during her watch. The fishing vessel wasn’t even intended to operate with more than one person on the bridge, since all instruments were in arm’s reach of the pilot’s seat, making Ivan a bit redundant as her hemls-hen. Still, the atmosphere as a whole was rather cozy, with fake-wood furnishings, red leather seats and the A/C on full-blast. Might as well call it a nest at this point, what with the two hens inside.

So naturally, lacking an actual role to fulfill, the osprey griffon had settled down in the Captain’s seat behind Geert, half-sprawled half-seated as she watched her superior steer for a change whilst she distractedly fiddled with her tail in her talons.

“I already do cat naps often enough, thank you.” The griffon rolled her eyes.

Not that it was impossible to sleep. The engine made the little ship vibrate rather nicely. Add to that the gentle sway of the ship’s roll and the penumbra caused by the cloud cover that had rolled in as soon as they left Belfast’s Lough and… well, needless to say the feline half of her mind was very tempted to just curl up in the chair and snooze.

Except she’d already slept for the better half of the day, and napping just behind your superior as you’re talking to her was a bit brazen. So instead she opted for small talk.

“So is it you or Artemis that’s captaining the ship?”

“Artemis.” Geert chirped back. “I don’t have much experience with ships that size, even though I got the credentials to use them. Plus I don’t think she’d have been too happy if I took the ship away from her. She’s one of the boat pilots; that’s her job, not mine, to sail those.”

“Eh if you say so. What’s your take on her name change?”

“Easier on the mind to call her that than Nikolaos I guess?” The macaw shrugged, flicking her talons over the ECDIS screen to make sure they were on the right track.

Which they were, however odd it felt to be able to sail over mudflats because their draft was so low. She might be a bit too used to sailing on large ships like Amandine.

“So you would change your name?”

“Would you? Want me to call you Ivanka now?” Geert half-turned back towards the griffon.

“I’m… not sure. Not even sure Ivanka would fit anyway. I was thinking… Artemis went with what her mother would have called her if she’d been born female. So I was wondering what my name would have been.”

“Not Ivanka then?”

“No, that’s what my sister’s called.”

Geert did a double-take.

“Come again? Your mother decided to name her daughter and her son both variations of the same name? Is that even legal?!”

“Well they didn’t stop her so… Ja tak gadaju. I guess?” She shrugged with her wings before draping one over herself like a feathery blanket. “Maybe I should copy my aunts or babushka? What would you go with for yourself anyway?”

The macaw took a moment to respond, scratching a talon against the upper mandible of her beak in thought.

“Greet.” She finally replied, snapping her talons.

“That’s just an anagram of your current name.”

“And the consonance is close enough to my current name that it’s an easy change. Plus technically it’s short for Margaret in Dutch.”

Ivan groaned at that.

“See, there’s the problem with you. Too practical and sensible to worry about making it sound nice. It’s a name, not a piece of machinery. Back to me… Olga?”

“Too stereotypical.” Greet rolled her eyes. “And I’m not always sensible, mind. I have a sense of humor. I do dumb stuff sometimes.”

“Like what? Second try: Anna.”

“Wayyy too common pal. Remember how I told you I play baseball – or used to- when I’m home?”

“Yeah you did. What about it?” Ivan tapped a talon against her beak. “How about… Nastya? That original enough?”

“Better. But I’d still think about it for a while. So with this baseball… one day for April Fools, I waited ‘til all the team was ready then I left the locker room last. With a costume.”

“And what costume was that, then?” She quirked a brow at the parrot.

Greet stood up from her seat and meandered over to the sitting griffon, before leaning down calmly until she was face to face with her, her large black-and-white beak centimeters away from Ivan’s.

“I’m bat-man.”

And then she went back to her seat, quickly typing the course to the next waypoint on the autopilot, the ship turning ever so slightly to port.

Ivan blinked for a couple of seconds, before the translation finally clicked in the Ukrainian’s mind.

“Now that’s just silly.”

“Which is the point.”

They lapsed into silence after that, Ivan grabbing a piece of paper from the navtex’s fax machine to write down name ideas for herself. Artemis was actually a pretty cool name, so maybe she wanted in on the cool name wagon.

Unlike Greet, she genuinely felt like it should change, and she wouldn’t settle for a feminization or an anagram.

Meanwhile, the darkened cloud cover finally broke into rain, fat drops of water impacting the windows of the wheelhouse and forcing them to turn on the wipers and adjust the radar’s rain clutter. Wind might have been a problem, too, but it came from the west meaning Ireland itself was sheltering them from the worst of it.

They wouldn’t want to be on the Atlantic side of the island at that time though, not in as small a vessel as the trawler was. The ship didn’t have an actual name, just the callsign ‘RFFD’ (as in: Rhine Forest – Fishing – Delta) painted in black letters on her bow and stern.

And so, they sailed on for the next couple hours, headed on a North-westerly course towards the Derry. On their port side, the Irish shore slowly turned from the gently sloped hills found near Belfast to more steep craggy cliffs that were mostly covered in uneven meadows, barely worth anything for cultures and just enough to raise sheep that now gathered in gigantic white herds along the cliffside, looking very much like sentient clouds.

It wasn’t before they reached Rathlin Island that they changed course, turning West to pass between the small island and the ‘mainland’ (insofar the Ireland could ever be called such). Navigation wise this wasn’t a very dangerous place: admiralty notes on the area and vector charts depicted some large-scale, low-speed eddies that formed at certain points during the change of tide, but their strength was only enough to make them drop two knots in speed.

Annoying, but not actually threatening as long as they stayed clear of Rathlin Island where the shearing current could have pulled them towards the shore. With the extremely thick fog bank that surrounded the island, that probably would have ended poorly for them. Oddly enough, said fog bank only seemed to cover a one mile radius around Rathlin, not extending any further than that and forming a near-wall right where it ended.

If anything, what the pilot book told about the area’s history was more interesting, as Ivan read it aloud to Greet during their watch.

Maybe the griffon was just twisting it to make it sound worse than it was, maybe it was genuine, in any case the entertainment was there. Archaeological report described neolithic cult sites found on the island, a couple standing stones surrounding the remains of small dwellings, which meant intelligent life had long settled there.

Its past was grim. Times and again over the centuries, the island had violently traded hands from Scots to Irish and back, most of the times marking the change with a massacre where the previous inhabitants’ bodies would be hurled down the cliffs, and that wasn’t even counting Viking raid parties culling the population.

And on the mainland side, the entire coast had its cliffs littered with abandonned castles: Kinbane, Dunseverick, Dunluce, all of them completely ruined with their masonry and cobblestones now covered in moss and slowly crumbling down the steep cliffs that marked the area’s shoreline, their rugged dark stones glistening in the rain, still towering tens of meters above the water and bringing a dark vibe to the area that was only brightened up by the large flocks of seabirds that had made them their nest.

Props to Ivan, except for the accent she was a top notch storyteller. Greet could feel the goosebumps making her feathers bristle.

Grim premise aside, there was one thing that transcended everything in the region.

And no it wasn’t the Old Bushmills Distillery (though it wasn’t far off).

Giant’s Causeway. A vast array of hexagonal basalt columns that reached out into the sea, waves crashing against it in great sprays of foam and brine, the massive rock formation glistening like a dark lance thrust into the sea.

Afterwards, the shoreline evened out once they left County Antrim and entered County Londonderry. The tall cliffs slowly turned into just a rocky shore before even them were replaced by smooth sandy beaches with a couple seaside villages breaking up the otherwise flat horizon with their cottages. The cliffs were still there, but they had retreated a few hundred meters further inland, their presence now but a menacing shadow held back by the bright white sand that covered the beaches, finally disappearing from sight somewhere after Benone Beach when they suddenly stopped. In their stead, the land now turned into what amounted to a vast, dried-up sandbank that had become part of the mainland, its weed-covered dunes now making for great campsites according to intelligence.

That was about when Greet called the cabins below to tell them to get the anchor ready.

The voyage had taken them several hours, and hard as it was to tell with the thick cloud cover and the rain, night was about to fall. Greet and Artemis were both clear about it: they did not want to sail upstream of River Foyle by night. With the risk of monsters and potentially hostile locals, six crewmembers on the whole trawlers weren’t enough to tackle nocturnal fluvial warfare.

So they did the next best thing: anchor in the estuary. River Foyle actually formed a vast lough in its estuary, pretty much like River Lagan did outside Belfast’s harbor: a wide bay with several mudflats they didn’t have to worry about thanks to the trawler’s low draft, sheltered from the open seas by the same dried-up sandbank they’d just passed. They took a look at their map and veered off towards one of the prescribed anchorage points next to the former pilot transfer post.

Waves were minimal where they dropped the anchor, thanks in large part to the protection offered by the lough, only gently rocking the boat at this point. Up on the bridge, Greet sipped from a cup of coffee to the pitter-patter of rain hitting the bridge’s windows, the only source of light coming from a dull red lamp and the instrument screens as she watched Mikhail set up the .50 cals on their deck mounts for the night’s watch.

Behind her, she heard Artemis key in over the radio to tell the fleet in Belfast they were anchoring for the night. A couple minutes later, they heard another report from Artemis’ brother telling he was carrying on throughout the night with his fishing, before Alejandro on Amandine acknowledged the report.

“So what now?” Ivan asked.

“Mikhail’s on watch for the first four hours, then it’s Diethelm, then you.” Greet supplied.

“Yeah, but what about the ‘now’ now?”

“Dinner and entertainment.” Marta piped in, the hedgefog’s head popping out of the stairway down to the accomodation. “I made pasta.” The nurse added.

“And I brought my guitar.” Geert added.

“You play music?” Marta quirked her head, one ear flicking in curiosity.

“Jawel toch.” She shrugged. “Or did you miss me putting it in my cabin? I mean, I already liked music before, now it’s even better as a parrot.”

“Really?” Artemis turned around to face them. “How so?”

“That is...” Her voice twisted, suddenly sounding very male and… had they heard that somewhere? “Because we parrots are really good singers.” She finished.

Artemis snapped her fingers.

“Phil Collins!”

“Right on the mark, darling.” The scarlet macaw grinned cheekily, turning her arms into wings and giving a fake bow. “On scene tonight in your mess hall.”

Meadow had let Rockhoof and Starswirl go out to the fay lady on their own. The two stallions were more than enough on their own to handle anything the forest threw at them. Meanwhile, she still had much to do, and that involved keeping an eye on Martin.

Rock also didn’t like the idea of her going too deep in the woods. Granted, she could understand the reasoning, but for Faust’s sake, it had been days since the stallion impregnated her! The sole memory of the big Earth Pony acting all fussy with her in the morning was enough to make her roll her eyes.

She and Martin were just wandering through a sparsely forested thicket in sight of the castle, with the blue-furred mare making frequent stops to pick up some herbs as she told the fawn behind her about them. He seemed to like it, helping carry the basket and learning how to properly collect some of the simpler plants like fleaworts.

“You see, that’s the thing with fleawort.” She told him in French as the little fawn (who had now shed his tattered Spider Man t-shirt, leaving him naked save for the saddle-baskets on his back) carefully picked up some between his teeth before putting the wrinkly green leaves in his basket. “A lot of ponies assume because it’s so common you can’t do much with it except for basic remedies with the leaves. That’s the common mistake. Here, look...” She said, pulling out one of the plants and laying it down on the ground. “The leaves are great, but they’re even better when you give them to a proper alchemist. They make an excellent antiseptic if its paired with other plants. Like cloves, or even garlic.”

She paused to make sure he was following, seeing the fawn had fallen down on his haunches to look up to her with a cute scowl of concentration on his muzzle.

“Now, what they don’t tell you is you can also use the seeds and the roots. The roots you can use to help the sick breathe easier even in a simple broth. In potions, it even works great against fevers. You understand?”

“Yes madame Meadow!” He replied with a wide green.

“Good, good.” She nodded wisely, quickly stuffing the plant back in her saddlebags and motioning for him to follow. “The seeds are always a bit harder to collect. You only need their husk, but if you have them you can use them for potions to cure digestive illnesses. Did you ever eat something that made you feel bad afterwards?”

“There was the one time I ate all the cake mix...” He mumbled in a low tone.

“Well that can help then! But please don’t do that.”

“I won’t. Pinkie promise.” He swore, making a cutting motion over his chest with his hoof.

“Ah ah, careful now.” Meadow waggled her hoof. “Pinkie promises are important stuff. You don’t swear on it unless you're sure, 100% sure, all-of-the-sure that you’re not gonna break it.”

“But what if I do?” He asked, idly scratching a nearby tree with one of his stubby antlers.

A cold wintery breeze swept through the woods, sending shudders through both their spines. For a second, the warm summer afternoon dimmed to the light of a graveyard in autumn.

“You don’t… or else...” A bubbly feminine voice whispered in their ears in an oddly sepulchral tone.

“Any other question?” Meadow quirked an eyebrow.

“No!” He quickly answered.

She just chuckled.

This thicket was actually rather pleasant to meander through. The oaks weren’t as old as the large gnarly things found deeper in the forest, meaning plenty of bushes, berries and plants could grow between them with moderate sunlight filtering through the canopy, the leaves throwing a green halo over the area. A warm summer breeze swept between the trunks, gently ruffling Meadow’s mane in its typical beehive style as she cast a glance back towards where she could see the shimmering waters of the castle’s moat.

She breathed in. The area was the epitome of life’s growth. Birds flicked between the branches, singing their beautiful songs. The scent of dirt, leaves and sap hung heavy in the air, mixing nicely with the sharp smells that wafted up from her herbs basket.

A stick cracked behind her, and the mare immediately rounded up on her hooves.

The White Stag.

Somehow it had popped up behind them. Martin looked at it, the fawn completely transfixed at the sight of the much taller creature. Meadow’s impression was a bit more cautious as the animal slowly walked out of the bushes, head held high to present its huge antlers, staring imperiously at Meadow.

She had to give it to the creature, it knew how to look the part. The rays of sunlight filtering through the canopy above them only enhanced the naturally regal glow of its white fur.

It stopped just in front of Martin, looking down its muzzle at the little fawn.

For a scant second, Meadow felt the air stand still, the breeze falling, the birds silent.

Then, the white stag bent down, touching a spotbetween Martin’s nascent antlers with its snout. There was a little flash, and then it finally galloped off to disappear behind a row of ferns, likely teleporting to another forest.

Meadow rushed over to Martin, only to see him blearily rub at the now snow-white spot of fur between his antlers.

“Well… that happened.” She blinked.

Author's Notes:

Moving things along with a touch of worldbuilding and slice-of-life sprinkled on top, I'd say I'm satisfied with the chapter. I'm never too sure if I quite manage to land the spot in terms of balance between action, character growth and environment, so I hope I don't 'bombard' you lot with exposition too often.

I don't remember in which setting I saw planar magic being used first by non-divinities. Rule of thumb would point towards DnD but I'm not up to snuff on 5th Edition and how it may have been affected. Definitely read about a high-level campaign with a wizard that had a plane of existence filled with constructs though.

Also... normally I used to have Dances With Unicorns to point out mistakes in spelling for me to correct (does happen, I'm no native speaker after all) but he hasn't been connected in months. Don't know if the quality drop is noticeable without his erratas, but it's a concern.
Anyone knows where I could find an editor or a spellchecker?