All of the partygoers at the Merchant Hotel drunkenly witnessed the helicopter’s reappearance and subsequent crash, the sound of it impacting the ground further to the east echoing through the streets of Belfast. Some chatter immediately erupted after that, speculations as to where it had landed before some of the IRA folks explained a little problem with that.

That little problem being that the one manticore Finnegan had shot a while ago near the City Hall wasn’t actually a loner. Not at all as a matter of fact. There was an entire pride of them dwelling near the City Airport (because Belfast had two of them apparently: the local City Airport near the harbor, and the International Airport near Antrim). Some IRA scouts frequently skirted the edges of their territory, keeping to the rooftops and making sure the manticores didn’t stray into downtown Belfast proper, but they never actually entered what they’d mapped as their territory.

Giant leonine chimeras were dangerous like that, and no one wanted to wind up like Father Smith.

Artyom didn’t care. Artyom was just a very drunk dragon on a nostalgia trip from having just celebrated VDV day.

So naturally he resolved to rescue the poor pilots all on his own, grabbed the nearest machine gun he could find (by sucker-punching a fellow sailor on guard duty) and drunkenly flew off towards the crash site. The party attendants were, understandably, dismayed at the display.

Sure they wanted to rescue the pilots (at least the few sailors sober enough to formulate those thoughts did), but it just wasn’t their modus operandi to rush in without a plan.

Worse even, they just couldn’t spare the manpower to dispatch a rescue team. Any sailor (or colonist for that matter) that wasn’t at the party was busy on guard duty, meaning any guard they pulled from the security perimeter would leave a gaping hole in their defenses.

So they did the next best thing they could think of. As the sun rose above Belfast, one guard went through each and every room of the Merchant Hotel in search of someone sober enough to go rescue the helicopter’s pilots.

And Artyom. Probably.

In the hotel’s upper floors, Greet was suddenly roughly disturbed by an IRA guard bursting through her door. Now, it other circumstances this might not have been much of a problem, but she was currently laying in bed with Marta, and the hedgefog’s fingers were hard at work working their magic between her thighs.

Yeah, turns out she and the nurse swung the same way, so even if it wasn’t the same as when she’d been male (and boy was that an understatement), working out that nurse kink was a great stress relief. Marta sure hid some nice curves underneath all that fur and quills, which she had been all too happy to indulge in.

And the hedgefogs’ electric affinity? Stimulating in just the right way.

So she was understandably quite irate at the other hedgefog standing in the door frame for putting a stop to the fantastic night she’d just been having. At least the Irishman had the presence of mind to avert his gaze long enough for Marta to put on a shirt.

Greet didn’t need one. Ornithians don’t have breasts. And why would they? They’re birds, not mammals.

“Fuck you bargin’ in here for?!” She squawked angrily, still fluffed up and damp from what she’d been doing minutes earlier.

“I’m sorry ma’am.” He said, almost switching to fog form to get away from the sheer anger the scarlet macaw in the bed was radiating. “Quick question: are you sober?”

“Like fully sober or ‘sure I’m sober’ sober?” She squawked, not leaving the bed just yet, with the covers pulled up just far enough to cover her waist.

“Aight, if you’re asking then you’re good enough by current standards.” He stepped forward, Greet only then catching the alarmed look in his eyes. “Look, I’m sure you ladies were having some great fun-”

“Yeah, until you showed up, debil.” Marta complained, acidly.

“And I’m sorry about that, cuntface.” The Irishman fired back. “It’s just we’re in short supply of sober folks, and you’re the only Officer that’s not passed out drunk in this hotel, apparently.”

“Fuck you need me for anyway? Don’t you work for Finnegan?” Greet crossed her arms.

“Yeah, but we got a problem both for us and you sailors.” The guard said. “Look, long short story. Helicopter crashed. Near a monster nest. Your Russian friend? So drunk he decided he could take them all on.”

“Alone?”

“I wish.” He rolled his eyes. “’Except Ol’ Provo Finnegan was plenty drunk too, and he wouldn’t ‘be outdone by a goddamn ruskie’. Flew off like five minutes ago when someone mentioned Artyom was goin’ for it.”

“Mother-fucker...” Geert gaped. “They really doing that shit?”

“Unfortunately… yes. So, Officer?”

“Yeah yeah, ‘course with all that shit you’d ask the lowest ranking Officer in the fleet.” She sighed, pinching her upper mandible between her talons. “Just… okay, let me get dressed, I’ll be downstairs in a minute. And gather anyone sober enough you can find, gonna need all the help I can get.”

“Aye aye ma’am.” He finally nodded before leaving the two girls to themselves.

Greet sank back in her pillow with an annoyed trill once she was sure he was gone. A part of her was tempted to just blame Artyom for it all (she was never too fond of the dragon even before he grew scales), but even if he hadn’t rushed in she’d have had to do it. The pilots needed saving either way… if they’d survived the crash, that is.

After a minute, she finally stood up and went to the bathroom, not only to get her clothes but also to get rid of the juices that had leaked down her thighs.

“I’m so sorry Marta...” She sighed dejectedly. “Guess even when it’s party time we can’t catch a break.”

The Polish nurse came up to her and brushed Greet’s hip with the little bundle of quills that made up the tassel at the tip of her tail before making her way over to the pile of clothes in a corner of the room.

“It’s nothing sweetie.” The nurse chuckled. “If anything, you weren’t half bad for a newbie. Plenty to appreciate, even on my end.”

“Still surprised you’d be...”

“Lesbian? I just don’t like to advertise it openly. Ain’t shame, mind, I was just raised in a culture where you should keep your bedroom stuff to yourself.” She told the parrot as she put on her bra. “By the way, quick advice: wet wipes are good for a quick cleanup. Just...”

“Don’t use them as a bath replacement?”

“Well duh.” Marta rolled her eyes. “Sorry if it’s obvious, but you’d be surprised what some girls get up to in the matters of hygiene. The things you see as a nurse I swear...” She trailed off, mumbling some choice words under her breath in Polish.

“Yeah...” Greet trailed off. “Girls.”

“You still hung up on your change?” Marta approached her for a quick hug.

Greet snorted.

“Who wouldn’t be? Even then I consider myself lucky. I’m still into gals… with a few additions.”

“Both ways?” Marta tilted her head, her entirely blue eyes gazing up at Greet’s teal irises.

“Eeyup.” She nodded slowly, reaching for an elastic band on the bathroom sink to tie up her crest feathers, leaving two bangs which she tucked behind her large ears. “Bart asked too. Feels weird. Uh… by the way, you and me…?”

“Just a fling?”

“Just a fling. We’ll finish up tomorrow if you want, even.” Greet breathed out in relief. “Okay, enough drama, let’s get this show on the road. Marta, once I’m dressed I want you to go to Rhine and prep up some of those antivenin potions. Gonna need those in manticore territory. Grab all the health potions you can with that and load up an ambulance.”

“And meet up with you?”

“No!” The parrot squawked out, halfway through putting her shirt back on – civilian attire, not work coveralls this time-. “Sorry, but I want the medic to just stay on standby. Just… tune in on the VHF, we’ll call when we need you.”

“Anything else?”

Greet paused.

“Come to think of it… yes.” She mused. “Try and check out Vadim or Micha’s cabin on Amandine. I think they skipped the party.”

“But why?”

Greet quirked an eyebrow.

“Well, they got Andy to take care of, duh. Vad’s no good for combat as he’s our medic, but I could use Micha’s sharpshooting skills.”

“So… how do we get in?” Miles asked to nopony in particular as she looked at the lake Vivian had just dived in.

“The exact way she did, Lady Miles. It doesn’t get much more complicated than that.” Starswirl chuckled as he shifted back to his equine form.

“Last I checked I couldn’t walk on water you know.”

“You let me worry about that.” He replied, igniting his horn and firing off a quick spell that created a subtle aura around her and Rockhoof’s hooves. “And here you go. Waterwalking spell. I even invented that one… though to be fair I was inspired after I saw Ornithians do it naturally.”

“Riiight...” Miles stared at her glowing hoof. “Somehow, I keep forgetting about magic.”

“We all do, grab a ticket and get in line.” Rockhoof gave her a pat on the back.

Strong enough to almost knock her off her hooves, actually. The draft horse of a pony was strong.

Walking on water was weird. On one hand… hoof, she expected it to be slippery like ice, but instead it felt more like those times where a water blister forms under a lawn. Squishy, yet still solid enough that she could walk on it without sinking. At most, her hooves created a depression half an inch deep in the water.

Before she had time to wonder how Star would go about getting them under the surface, the mage ignited his horn once more and the trio sank down in sync. Much to her surprise actually, because she instinctively opened up her wings the moment she felt gravity pull her into the lake.

To no effect however. She wasn’t to the point where she could fly yet. Instead, she watched as they seemingly fell down a column of bubbles before finally landing on some kind of gravel path in a kelp forest. They were underwater, with the surface like a reflective, semi-transparent ceiling high up above them; but she could still breathe just fine.

They were also somehow deeper than the lake was supposed to be. The surface looked like it was ten to twelve stories above them, and Miles was damn sure the lake was nowhere big enough to be this deep.

It really was unsettling. She could see clearly, breathe as though she were above the water, yet her fur coat and mane were soaked, the hair floating free of gravity. Her poncho was pretty much the same, and she fully expected she’d have to get the water out of her rifle’s scope, but somehow she could move around without feeling the water’s resistance.

“This is weird...” She said, waving a hoof around to check whether she was dreaming. “Are we really underwater?”

“We are.” Starswirl told her, and the ghost even bore an impressed look on his muzzle. “An amazing enchantment I must say. Made to accommodate land dwelling creatures that pass through the portal, but the environment remains unaffected.”

A school of trout swam past right in front of Rockhoof’s muzzle, eliciting a jerk from the surprised stallion that made the silvery fish scamper off and hide in the kelp forest around them.

“I’ll admit it’s fascinating and all Star, but maybe we should move along? I don’t think ponies were made to live underwater like that. Not for long at least.” He said, scowling in the kelp’s general direction.

“Don’t worry Rock, I can get us out in a hurry if we need to.”

“Ain’t that a relief.” Rockhoof replied, jerking his head towards the gravel path that snaked its way through the kelp forest.

In itself it was an interesting sight, if a bit surreal. The kelp were like vines ‘hanging’ from the ground, thin leafy trees surrounded by little rocks and some actual trees that had fallen into the lake to become homes to so many little creatures that used them as shelter. Crayfish, little carps with iridescent scales, freshwater mussels, a treasure trove of life none could see from the surface.

Eventually though, the next bend in the path revealed Vivian’s castle.

It was… about as surreal as the whole experience of walking underwater. Up on a big jagged rock was the large crystal structure, casting a pale white light on the whole area around it. It wasn’t that big, actually a bit smaller than Trecesson Castle, but its architecture sure made it look tall with sharp angles, narrow towers that seemed to rise forever and carvings worthy of a Gothic cathedral.

Vivian’s piasts swam around it in circles, twisting and turning around the turrets but always keeping a watchful eye on the visitors as they made their approach. There was a spiraling staircase at the base of the rock the castle rested on leading up to gates of nacre, and on the porch was…

Excalibur.

It lay there under a protective bubble and multiple shield spells and wards to protect it and the pedestal it laid on, blade bare next to its scabbard for all to see the intricate runes engraved upon it, every single one of them glowing with a warm golden light that contrasted with the steely gray of the blade.

It was a golden sword, a gilded weapon so elegant Miles’ heart tightened at the sight. Its handle, one-and-a-half handed, was more like multiple golden tendrils wound together that naturally blossomed into a handguard at the base of the blade where they cradled a large multicolored gem the size of a goose egg.

Its presence alone commanded respect, the sheer power in it enough to make her wings open up slightly in a fight-or-flight reflex (that as of late seemed unusually geared towards the flight part).

“Well at least now I understand why you wanted it.” Rockhoof commented.

“I genuinely believe this weapon can unmake demons, friend.” Starswirl told him. “It… it’s a funny thing really, how out of control this got. Like it had a soul of its own. The memories my friend, oh the memories...” The ghost sighed wistfully as he walked up to the pedestal and sat down on his haunches. “It’s a testimony to Arthur’s valor what he made out of this weapon. You want the truth?”

“What truth?” Miles asked.

“Excalibur wasn’t that powerful from the start. Well… it was, but not as ridiculously powerful as it is now. That’s the beauty with human magic, the legends only reinforce themselves as they gain traction.”

“Beg your pardon?” The American quirked her head.

“What he means is that his little protege outdid himself.” Vivian said, the Lady of the Lake getting the drop on them as the castle’s gates opened without a sound.

“Do you speak English milady?” Miles turned to the fay, asking as politely as she could.

“I do not, little pony.” She told her. “I merely used a spell to translate. A triviality easily afforded by magic, really.”

“You flatter me, that you’d deem me important enough to warrant understanding you, then.” The pegasus slowly inclined her head.

“You have manners. Good.” Vivian nodded.“As for what Merlin was saying...”

She threw him a sideways glance, Starswirl getting the hint and switching to human form.

“… regardless of how much praise I get for enchanting Excalibur in the first place, it wasn’t that powerful. The sword grew in power along with King Arthur’s reputation, to the point where I daresay it far outdid whatever I could have voluntarily made. The more fame he gained, the more powerful his sword became and the more tricks it somehow added to its arsenal. Now? There are few things it cannot do. Fire, lightning, frost, make the user faster, stronger, improve his endurance and reflexes to the point where he can deflect arrows… the list goes on. It was only supposed to be a fire sword when I enchanted it. Maybe with a hint of holy magic to banish lesser demons, but that’s about it.”

“I’m impressed. Truly so.”

“As you should be.” Vivian scoffed.“Now, Merlin? I believe I’m due an explanation. There is only so much Morgane could tell me in her letter.”

And with a snap of her fingers, four little stools floated out of her castle and gently dropped in a semicircle around Excalibur’s pedestal.

“This might take a while...” The wizard sighed.

This was all one colossal fuckup ready to blow up in their face. Greet had raced back to the dockyard as soon as she was dressed to gather any sober sailor (or even IRA guards, she wasn’t feeling picky) they could find. After a whole night of drinking and partying, that number wasn’t very high. Hell, Greet herself wasn’t fully sober, just tipsy enough that the alcohol made her slightly sluggish.

And maybe what she’d done wasn’t the brightest idea. She’d been gearing up in the armory when they called her on the interphone to inform her that the grand total of sober sailors was…

A whopping two, and they had yet to find Vadim and Micha, they weren’t in their cabin.

So she rushed in on her own.

Yeah, that was a pretty bad idea, she knew it. But it wasn’t like she had all the time in the world, she needed to catch up with Artyom and Finnegan before the manticores found them. She tossed her gear – magic sword included- in the first Defender she could find before flooring it and racing towards the crash site.

The streets of Belfast flew past as she did her best to put on her flak jacket whilst keeping a claw on the wheel. Not the most elegant feat she had to admit, and highly likely to have earned her a hefty fine prior to the Event but it wasn’t like she had a choice.

And damn that drunk ruskie for getting himself in a situation like that in the first place. He was a bosun for fuck’s sake, he should know better.

Knowing where to go really wasn’t that hard. She just had to follow the column of thick acrid smoke rising up in the distance to find her way, which really just involved following the highway that connected the city to the local airport. The locals had even spray painted some road signs to mark the edge of the manticores’ territory.

Neat.

Soon enough, the vast swathes of warehouses of the dockyards traded places with the more open fields and flat concrete slabs that surrounded the airport on one side, and the crash site on the other.

Thankfully, the helicopter hadn’t crashed into the rows of Victorian-era workers’ houses that littered the area this side of Belfast and instead fell down near a community center.

Bits of wreckage and churned dirt littered the football field where the helicopter had carved a ditch upon landing before it carried on on its course and plowed sideways on through the community center’s gymnasium.

On the opposite side of the football field, she could see where the helicopter’s tail had impacted a spotlight mast, tearing it off the airframe and collapsing a row of bleachers where it had fallen.

That scene would have been enough chaos already, but there were also two dragons making it worse as they fought off an entire pride of manticores from the roof. She had to give it to them, for a pair of drunken veterans, they were doing rather well. Artyom had taken position near the service ladder and was ruthlessly gunning down any juvenile manticore that tried to reach them while Finnegan was making good use of his anti-material rifle to attack the bigger adults.

Yet they had seemingly forgotten about the helicopter’s pilots because she could see clear as day that there were two silhouettes inside the cockpit. Hedgefog and pony by the looks of it, both unconscious.

And unlike the dragons, the manticores had noticed the free buffet waiting inside the weird metal packaging.

Yeah, she couldn’t let them do that. With a resigned sigh, she quickly chambered a round and lined up the sights of her rifle with the biggest manticore she could see before pressing the trigger. The rifle kicked back against her shoulder.

There was no need to be conservative with ammo, she was firing 5.56 at what was basically a giant leonine chimera, a lone round wouldn’t drop a monster this big.

Unfortunately, the half-mag she actually managed to land on target out of the whole thing didn’t hurt it much either. Not a problem, she only needed to grab a new on-

“Godver-!” She squawked as she realized what she’d filled her flak jacket with.

Empty magazines out front and loose ammo in the back pouch. She only carried the one loaded mag.

And her sword.

All of the gunfire and roaring of manticores went still for the next few seconds as both monsters and dragons finally took note of the colorful scarlet macaw near her Defender on the highway. Slowly, all of the monsters turned towards her with a snarl.

“Well, guess that thing ain’t useful anymore without ammo...” She sighed in Dutch, tossing her gun back towards her truck before unsheathing her sword with one claw, pulling out a flashbang in the other.

With a quick flex of willpower, the blade worked its magic and erupted in flames.

The manticores must have considered it as enough of a challenge because one juvenile took it as its cue to charge and pounce at her.

In a display of speed such that could only be achieved by an Ornithian, she deftly ducked underneath its paws and dug the blade in its belly, practically bisecting the monster and setting its fur on fire as it kept on its course and crashed further down the highway, lifeless.

Greet didn’t spare it much thought, just twirling the blade in her talons and lashing out with a fire whip that sliced off the scorpion tail of another juvenile before it could skewer her. The fire instantly cauterized the stump, but it didn’t stop the young manticore from releasing a blood-curdling scream of pain before it ran off to wherever it was they nested.

She was quite ready to take on the rest of the kids, unfortunately mama lion didn’t share the same thoughts as the massive creature decided it was its turn to rush in. Greet only had a quarter of a second to jump aside and dodge before the monster went past her and slammed into her truck with the sound of breaking glass.

Scarface wasn’t going to be happy about the bodywork on that one.

“Mommy’s angry uh?!” She taunted, holding her blade in front of herself, intermittently throwing looks off to the side to make sure the kids weren’t trying to encircle her.

Apparently not, Finnegan’s sniping and her swordplay were enough to send them on the run.

The adults though? Not so much. Three of them had taken position all around her, wounded from gunfire, but still rearing for a fight, hackles raised.

A few tense seconds passed. She could see the muscles coil up in the monsters’ hind legs.

Greet took the pin off her flashbang.

Like cats about to pounce, the manticores’ tails went still.

Geert released the spoon on the grenade.

Time felt like it was slowing down, she could feel the rush of adrenaline in her bloodstream, flushing out what little alcohol remained in her system by then, she could hear every beat of her heart, the throbbing in her strained muscles, the ache in her lungs, the smell of fire and monster blood in the air.

The monsters exploded into motion. Greet dropped the grenade and jumped up in the air. One manticore passed a hair’s breadth underneath her, she pushed with her legs against its back to carry herself even higher and dodge the second one which she gifted with a quick jab of her sword on the muzzle.

The last one clipped her in the arm with its tail. Greet was thrown off balance and landed with a grunt on the football field near a piece of wreckage, her forearm now adorned with a gash that oozed venom.

“Kut!” She swore.

The manticores roared.

Greet ducked behind the wreckage.

The flashbang exploded, right beneath their paws. They all roared out in unison, pained bellows as the concussive blast battered their sensitive eardrums, soon followed by the sound of multiple gunshots high up above her.

Not Finnegan’s gun though, that sounded more like… 7.62 maybe? She wasn’t too good at identifying gun sounds yet.

By the time the scarlet macaw managed to shake off the daze of the grenade, adrenaline, poison and gunfire, the manticores were gone, having deemed all the fighting wasn’t worth the snacks it might yield.

And all Greet had to show for it were a nasty sting, probably some bruises, and a severely damaged truck.

“You alright there boss?” Artyom said as the dragon landed next to her.

“Fuck you.” She groaned, unsteadily rising on her legs. “That’s the second time I’m involved in a fight alongside you, and that’s the second time I wind up injured. Get my VHF from the truck and call me an ambulance...”

She paused to look at the wreckage of the helicopter and the unconscious pilots that were still in it. Off on the edge of her vision, she saw three griffons land in the football field. Micha, Vadim and Andy, all three dressed in hunting gear.

Might explain why they couldn’t find them then. Micha likely shot at the manticores from the sky.

“… and tell Marta to prep for the two pilots as well. Oh fuck that poison’s strong...”

And then she collapsed face-down, paralyzed.

“So that’s about how it goes. Powerful demons from another world, not enough immortals to fight them off, and that’s how we decided Earth should have its own Elements.” Merlin concluded his explanation.

“What makes you think we really need them?” Vivian challenged. “There are plenty of mages on the planet already, powerful mages that have lived for centuries. Are we not enough to fight them off?”

“Absolutely not!” The ghost wizard exclaimed vehemently. “Vivian, these things are in a league of their own. In Equestria we have this… caste, for lack of a better word. A microcosm of immortal beings. And… you know, I sometimes like to boast that I’m a powerful mage, but any of them could easily wipe the floor with me, and they have done so in the past, even with a full team backing me up. We are not powerful enough to take them on. Not on our own, and much less alone. Not me. Not you, Morgane or Maugris. Not even Baba.”

“And you don’t think we can have our own microcosm?”

“The kind of immortal I’m talking doesn’t pop up out of nowhere, no. You don’t make them, and we don’t have any on hand at the moment.”

“Not even the gods?”

“You of all people should know they are fickle entities, they have goals of their own. For all we know they might even help the demons if it gets them more followers.” Merlin scowled.

“Alright, I agree on that. But why Excalibur?”

“Why?” Merlin scoffed. “Because it’s the best. If I could merge it with the Elements, the end result should easily be enough to defeat the Demons. They’re not dangerous Vivian, the Elements are symbols of virtue that elect the best possible avatars in a generation to carry out their will. I was one, Rockhoof was one. You don’t have to fear they’ll be used for evil. They literally can’t.”

For a few seconds, the Lady of the Lake was silent, staring contemplatively at Excalibur whilst Merlin nervously stroked his beard behind her. Finally, she stood up calmly and turned towards them.

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

“I’m sorry?” Miles tilted her head sideways.

“Do not trust Merlin too much, mortal.” Vivian warned her. “For he himself admits to having used dark and demonic magics while at the same time warning me about greater demons.”

“I’m no-” Merlin stood up in anger before being shushed by the fae.

“I know you’re not evil, let’s not fool ourselves now. But you have a bad record of letting your curiosity get the better of you and delving into arts you should have never considered, sometimes at the expense of others. You are not worthy of merging Excalibur with those Elements of yours. That duty is mine and mine alone to carry out. I shall journey to the Golden Tree myself when I see fit and judge its purity. If it passes my tests, then you will see your idea executed.”

“But we’re short on time!”

“Or so you say.” She wagged a finger at him. “You have no proof these demons represent such an imminent threat that I’d have to be reckless with an artifact such as this sword. This is my decision, and it is final. Unless you wish to challenge me in my own realm, hmm?”

Saying that the water suddenly turned cold and muddy, as if they were entrapped inside some brown fog bank through which they could only see hints of the piasts swimming on the edge of their vision, and Vivian.

“We’ll pass.” Merlin said, standing up in turn. “Thank you for your attention, milady.”

And with that he bowed curtly before walking off, back towards where they’d entered the realm. Miles and Rockhoof threw the sword one last look, thanked Lady Vivian for her hospitality, and then quickly galloped after the departing mage whose gait betrayed his aggravated state of mind.

Now to hope she judged the tree favorably.

Greet’s injuries thankfully didn’t cause any lasting damage. Unlike Father Smith in Carrickfergus, she didn’t have to wait days before Marta rushed in to administer some antivenin so the effects faded away within minutes, leaving nothing but a nasty welt.

By then, sober folks slowly started trickling towards the crash site. They recovered the injured pilots from the wreckage which, as it turned out, was from a contractor working for the UK’s Coast Guard. A hedgefog and a pegasus actually, they weren’t too heavily injured. Just a couple broken bones and concussions, escaping the worst of the impact through a mix of sheer luck and a last minute maneuver. Marta loaded them in her ambulance and carted them off to Rhine’s onboard clinic.

Past that, they didn’t need to recover the wreck so they just called up a hooklift truck to load up the damaged Defender, as well as the dead manticore juveniles. For what it was worth, they might as well process them for alchemical components, that would boost Rhine’s potion output somewhat.

As for the two dragons who blindly rushed in, while Greet couldn’t do anything about Finnegan (though apparently a female centaur later turned up to give him a stern talking to), she made sure to write up a stern report about Artyom’s actions as soon as she was back in her cabin. Not much she could immediately do to the bosun (and union rep) in the way of punishment, but she’d make sure Alejandro at least gave him extra duties for a while.

She doubted it would go much further than that. Dilip wouldn’t allow it. Artyom was far too competent as a bosun and fighter to warrant it.

At least once the activity died down and she got a bit of downtime Marta was all too happy to play nurse with her in the confines of her cabin. That made up for getting interrupted.

Sooner rather than later, they left that incident behind and moved on with their repairs. Amandine traded place with the now repaired Fugro in dock.

In comparison, fixing her was both simpler and faster than it had been with Fugro, thanks to most of the damage being to the hull and simple stuff like pumps and piping, most of which had already been prepped in the workshops a while ago.

They even managed to upgrade her with a multibeam echosounder they salvaged from an offshore drilling company’s depot near the repair yard, in addition to adding more beams, bulkheads and stiffeners to the newly repaired bow. That cost them a bit in ballast volume, but the added resistance to head-on collisions might be a necessity in a world where ships could randomly appear out of nowhere.

As for the echosounder, they initially wanted an actual sonar but a dome jutting out beneath the bow would have negatively impacted their underkeel clearance. Multibeam sounders were usually installed on hydrographic survey vessels or dive support vessel – like Fugro, which was actually equipped with one such tool-to get accurate pictures of the seabed, so it really wasn’t much of a problem in terms of accuracy. Either way, its operating arc was far wider than that of a regular echosounder and might allow them to detect zeebeests from up ahead.

All in all, Amandine was out of the dock ten days after entering it. A feat mostly attributed to magic speeding up the process immensely. And they even managed to accomplish more than just repairs in that span of time.

For one Schmitt finally completed the fuel reconditioning system. At a working scale that is. The end result was easily the size of a lorry trailer and produced a lot of slop water whenever used, but it also processed a lot of fuel per batch and didn’t need them to add too many additives per ton of fuel produced, thanks to making the process mostly mechanical.

The slop water wasn’t really much of a problem. The maritime industry already had plenty of measures to remove hydrocarbons from water, and even Dilip had experience with tankers. Oil-water separation was no new thing, MARPOL regulations had made sure of that decades before the Event even occurred.

Dilip immediately ordered a couple more to be produced. One per ship, one for O’Connel’s farm (so that they finally made due on their trade agreement) and one more for the colony in Carrickfergus.

The pilots also woke up in Rhine’s clinic, revealing themselves as Flynn (the pegasus), and Owen (the hedgefog, made a kid by his transformation actually). Both Brits sure were shocked when Dilip went to the clinic and broke the news about the Event, but through a feat of conviction that might have also involved Aleksei and her magic bracelet turning up to have a chat with them, they managed to recruit both pilots.

And since Amandine was the best suited of all three ships to receive and launch helicopters thanks to her large vehicle capacity, they wound up joining their crew. They didn’t even have too much trouble acquiring an aircraft for the pilots to fly with Belfast’s City Airport nearby. In fact they were actually pretty lucky with that find: a Bombardier Aerospace assembly line was set up right next to the airport, so in addition to one Agusta AW189 specced for SAR operations that they loaded on the main deck, they also found a dismantled Super-Tucano turboprop plane.

Now why would they bother with fixed-wing craft if they only had helicopter pilots? The answer was simple: the Super-Tucano was a trainer-level craft, and even helicopter pilots had to train with fixed wing aircraft before they could be allowed on a helicopter if they wanted a license.

Sure, Owen and Flynn had only ever flown on Marchetti trainers before, but they did find the software for a simulator in the assembly line.

And thus, on that day, M/V Amandine became one of the rare few cargo vessels with her own air wing.

With the ships repaired, a peace agreement between the colonies, future trade opportunities and all matters finally settled in Belfast, the fleet was finally free to set out to sea once more. A little crowd of locals gathered to say goodbye to the two Americans they’d promised to bring across the ocean: Miss Hawkins, the seamstress they’d found residing with the IRA boarded Amandine with what little baggage she’d along; while Mister Milford, the Earth Pony mechanic from the Carrickfergus colony, boarded Rhine Forest.

Explicitly it was because Amandine was starting to become a bit crowded (which was true, as Nala had complained about to Dilip), but implicitly it was so that CaptainLorelei may attempt to recruit Milford.

And with them on board, the ramps and gangways were lifted, the moorings released, and Rhine removed the anti-monster nets they had used to block off the harbor.

“Captain, everything ready for sea. Weather conditions and visibility are excellent so far and provided they are maintained, ETA to Savannah is… 11 days given a SOA of 14 knots.” Micha announced, reading off the ECDIS.

“Acknowledged. Proceed with the departure. We’re leading the convoy.”

“Aye Captain!” She squawked.

On that final note, the three vessels left Belfast behind. A handful of locals watched them leave, wondering if they would ever come back one day.

Behind his scope, Finnegan wondered the same thing before dropping his rifle. No time to dwell on that, he had to hammer a couple more agreements with Codsworth. Mere logistics, but not the kind of stuff he could skip out on, unfortunately.

At least Amandine’s bosun had been a pretty fun guy.

But for the fleet… America waited.

Thousands of miles southwest of Belfast, off the coast of the US, the waters suddenly churned. As if a great volume of water had suddenly been displaced on the surface of the seemingly quiet ocean.

The ground shook once.

And in the depths of the Atlantic, an alarm rang.

Author's Notes:

And thus ends the Belfast arc ends as a new decade dawns upon us all. Happy new year to you all, hope you had a great party yesterday. I know the whiskey was great on my end.

And because I feel like I have to add something else, here's a quick design thought on some species and mammaries. In the notes I keep on all species in use in this story, I've decided that species like Ornithians, dragons, hippogriffs and griffons did not have breasts or teats. For the two former, it's pretty simple: they're not mammals. Females may have a more narrow, angular ribcage (resulting in Cpt. Celaeno mimicking a cleavage with her downy feathers in the movie, or Ember's body type), but no breasts.

As for griffons and hippogriffs... Sharp beaks present from birth. Sensitive nipples. Not a good evolutionary trait.

And finally you got the odd case of centaurs where mares do not have breasts (or even nipples) on their humanoid half. Stuff's in the undercarriage in the form of teats.

That concludes it for this week. Hope you had a good read and see you all next time.