Artyom swore profusely. This was starting to look a lot like Sandra’s rescue at the radio station near Copenhagen, what with accidentally setting the building on fire. Cries of alarm were coming from the staircase both above and below him. The bandits had noticed the smoke.

Eh, on the bright side now they wouldn’t attack from this flank.

Fwoosh

That was the sound of the flames finally reaching some of the oil paintings that decorated the walls. Immune to smoke and fire or not, the dragon quickly fled back into the hallway he’d initially come from and slammed the fire door shut. It wouldn’t stop the fire, but it would – should- keep it contained long enough for them to get the prisoners out of their rooms and…

His red eyes trailed to the top of the door. A thin plume ofsmoke was already passing through the door frame. Whelp, guess even the US wasn’t immune to substandard contractors and corner cutting.

“All units, be advised: there is a fire in the building. Prepare for rapid evacuation. Out.” He told over the radio before hobbling over to the nearest barricaded room to free the captives.

There was a throbbing pain in his wing where the buckshot had pierced the membrane, along with the feeling of something warm trickling down the limb. That could wait for now. He knew he was probably the only one in the building immune to the fire he’d just started.

Look at you now. Not only sloppy, but a pyromaniac too? His mind taunted.

He growled. Whether that was from frustration or the strain of getting the doors open with his pry bar was up for debate, but it made for an intimidation factor that didn’t helpsoothe the ponies’ already strained nerves. Of course he knew that… red eyes, predatory appearance, military-grade gear, spikes and fangs?

The first group of prisoners he sent Bart and Scarface’s way practically sprinted away from him.

Maybe the Russian accent and VDV beret don’t help either...

Over the radio he could hear some complaints coming from Sri about how it was hard enough to begin with and they didn’t need to race against the fire and all…

“You mind not cluttering the waves with your ranting? Out.” He grunted into his radio between forcing two rooms open.

Gunfire briefly interrupted whatever chatter they were having. The sound of Bart and Scarface cutting down a group of bandits that was trying to make their way towards them. The duo reported three more downed bandits on the east flank, without any wounds on their side thanks in no small part to the gargoyle’s magic shield.

Not that Bart couldn’t eventually learn the spell himself, but unicorns were more of a specialized deal, and his deal was gunsmithing.

Now to hope the combat vehicles made it in time to cover their escape… what were they doing anyway?

Speaking of which, the vehicles were coming. They just faced some mild inconveniences along the way due to the abysmal state of roads in Savannah, having been forced to go around a sinkhole and find a new route to reach the bridge that separated the Westin from the rest of downtown Savannah.

Leading the way, the CV90 came out of the highway interchange so fast the IFV almost threw a track as the suspension’s active dampeners did their best to keep it on the road. The supercharged diesel let out its raspy roar as they finally made it to the Westin’s parking lot, followed soon after by the two of the three Piranhas they kept as part of Amandine’s complement of vehicles.

They could have taken the third one, they just didn’t have enough volunteers to fill both the driver and gunner’s position. All three fighting vehicles proceeded to form a line in front of the hotel, guns trained towards the upper floors where they could already see the fire spreading in the west wing.

Dilip popped open the commander’s hatch on the CV90, his canine frame emerging from the bowels of the vehicle to get a better view of the situation. Flashes of light and the staccato of gunfire in the east wing signalled the assault team was still up and fighting, and unless the bandits somehow got their hands on automatics, then his guys had the fire superiority.

“Assault team, this is evac. Interrogative: have you recovered the prisoners yet? Over.”

“Negative evac. Half a dozen rooms more and we’re good.” He heard Sri reply between grunts of exertion. “We got about… thirty of them now? Over.”

“Time. I need a time. Over.”

“Ten minutes and we can move on. Over.” This time it was Artyom that spoke up, the dragon’s voice strained from pain.

Injured already? He didn’t expect that from the dragon on their team. Maybe he overestimated how resilient they were.

“Understood bosun. Warn us when you make your exit, we’re securing the parking lot. Fire support may now be requested at your convenience. Out.” Dilip said after a few seconds before he shoved his walkie-talkie back in his pocket.

Uncharacteristically of Dilip, he was wearing coveralls for once instead of his usual pilot shirt/ cargo shorts combo. Above that was a simple flak jacket with a chest holster for his revolver, and a single scabbard on his hip that held the Congo Sword.

The enchanted saber seemed like it could taste the violence in the air, its malicious aura – which he usually ignored- was tinted with one thing that night: a thirst for blood. And maybe, just this once, he was going to satisfy its demands.

“Your orders Captain?” Roberto asked him, the Italian cat occupying the gunner’s position in the IFV.

Short-staffed as they were, they could only put two sailors per combat vehicle, not counting the Captain. He had the Italian cat as his gunner, and Nala as his driver. Even that was… testy, at best, having an Intel Officer and the Chief Steward crewing a combat vehicle.

“Stick to the coaxial machinegun for now. Use thermals if you need to, but the Bofors you only fire if I give the order or the assault team requests it, understood?”

“Aye Cap’n.” The cat nodded before flicking a few controls on the targeting computer, making the display switch to the telltale mix of grays and whites that was the thermal.

Similar orders were given to the APC’s in formation around the CV90, each headed by Aleksei and Angelo respectively. They were to cut down any opposition that tried to retake the parking lot and keep it clear so that the veterans’ team could evacuate unimpeded.

That didn’t actually involve much work. Once the first few bandits that tried it were cut down by the Piranhas’ .50 cals, any semblance of cohesion among them straight up collapsed and they started fleeing the building in droves from any other possible exit, even if that involved throwing themselves in the river or disappearing into the marshlands that surrounded Savannah. Some pegasi were a bit better off than the rest in their attempt, and Dilip was pretty sure he also spotted a single batpony disappear into the night… but none dared challenge the military vehicles in the parking lot.

None of the sailors gave chase either. Priority was to be given to rescuing the prisoners, and even if they had the whole crew behind them they would have had trouble combing the town and its vicinity trying to find them. Colorful as they were, ponies could be surprisingly good at hiding at times.

They did destroy all their cars though.

Right in front of his eyes, Dilip could see the whole bandit gang unravel and crumble at the first assault on their HQ, most of the thugs not used to facing an opponent that was even remotely well-equipped or organized.

Not the most awe-inspiring sight, but satisfying nevertheless. Over the radio, he heard Aleksei mention seeing the bandit leader they had labeled as ‘Councilor’ run off with his tail between his legs, the unicorn practically shrieking at the sight of all the combat vehicles and abandoning a knapsack filled with jewelry, along with a pair of bound and gagged mares his subordinates were carrying for him.

His co-leader didn’t share the general lack of spine however. Not a minute later, a large Earth pony emerged out onto the parking lot, bulky enough to tower over most members of his species with a wide frame rippling with muscles. Boss as they had labeled him, with a green coat of fur and a blonde mane fashioned in a mohawk.

If his size and haircut weren’t enough to make him stand out, then his… attire sealed the deal. The pony wore enough gold and precious stones to run his own jewelry store.

Boss stood there in the entrance, the flames that were now streaming from the upper floor’s windows giving a red sheen to his jewelry as he leveled a cold glare at the sailors and Dilip in particular.

“Sir? Permission to fire?” Roberto requested.

“Belay that.” Dilip barked, the dog pulling himself out of the commander’s hatch and standing atop the CV90’s turret.

Wanna be dramatic? He could do dramatic.

“You ruined my gig!” Boss yelled at them in a booming voice.

“You call that a gig?” Dilip scoffed, resting a paw on the hilt of his saber. “You reappear in a new world, you’re given the chance to start anew, without any trace of your past… and yet you chose to do it at the expense of others. Your own countrymen at that.”

“Fuck my countrymen!” Boss screamed. “It’s always loyalty this, patriot that, and ‘ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country’… But it’s only ever a one way street! Semper Fi my ass!” He ranted, rapping a pair of makeshift golden gauntlets he had around his forehooves against the ground.

Gauntlets with wickedly sharp spikes, mind.

“I was in Fallujah you know? Loyal all the way, did my duty, was a good soldier...” He chuckled darkly. “Ya know what that got me? I come back stateside to find the wife preggers and in bed with Jody in my own home. Didn’t even do anything to her. That make a difference? ‘course not, bitch wound herself in a self-righteous fury and unleashed hell on me. Turned everyone against me like ah was some kind o’ monster, civilian or military, stole my house, my earnings, everything. And what did they tell me? I was the bad guy! They kicked me out on the street with a dishonorable discharge, then when those fuckers deemed that wasn’t enough, they locked me up ‘cuz the bitch ran out of money and came crying to the judge.” He ranted. “Nobody. Ever. Listened.”

“Still wasted your chance.” Dilip hopped off the IFV and stood in front of it.

“Wasted?!” The pony burst out laughing. “I ain’t daft. I learn my lessons. That one? Playing by the book gets ya nowhere. You try to be good and stay in your lane, someone’s gonna come and ruin your life and you’ll be called the bad guy. So I said… fuck that, they call me the bad guy, imma be their bad guy.”

Calmly, Dilip unsheathed the Congo Sword, the magic blade shone in the night, both from the magic that permeated it and from the flames above them that gave it a menacing red glint.

“Shame. I think you know how this story ends.”

“Figures the feds would run my posse into the ground. Always comes to that eventually.” Boss snorted, squaring his shoulders as if getting ready to charge.

“Correct on the conclusion, not so much on the actor. We’re not American.” Dilip stated in a flat tone, getting into a fencing stance himself.

“Captain?” Roberto popped his head out of the IFV’s hatch.

“Stand back Roberto, I’m making a statement.”

“But si-

“Stand back, I say. I can handle a mere bandit pony.” The dog repeated, eyes not leaving Boss. “You have my sympathy, pony. That doesn’t change what’s about to happen though. Prisons aren’t a thing anymore.”

“Yeah I get it.” Boss rolled his shoulders and pawed at the ground. “No hard feelings. Least I got to give the world the payback it owed me. Now… we gonna be all mushy and shit, or you gonna give me my last rodeo?”

Dilip just nodded and made a beckoning motion with his paw.

Boss grinned and charged the dog head on, his golden attire clicking as he galloped towards Amandine’s Captain. Once more, Dilip was reminded how Earth Ponies should never be underestimated as the green and gold blur cut the distance that separated them in less than a second.

Now was the time the Congo Sword’s magic would be put to the test for the first time then. A cold feeling of detachment washed over Dilip, sharp focus clearing his mind of anything but the fight as adrenaline rushed through his bloodstream and time slowed down.

See, unlike that fire whip sword Greet found in Londonderry, the Congo Sword’s magic was different. Its enchantments weren’t as flashy. They were more subtle, refined.

It made its wielder a better swordsman. The magic that coursed in the blade and filled the pink diamond in the pommel made him faster, improved his reflexes, his strength, his overall situational awareness…

Hence: he had no difficulty dodging when the attacking pony shifted on his hooves at the end of his charge and attempted to buck him in the gut. One casual hop to the side shifted him in the right position to deliver one swift strike that broke one of the heavy golden chains Boss had wrapped around his barrel. A makeshift armor in a fashion.

“Yer fast, ah’ll give ya that.” Boss growled, rolling out of reach of his sword after his missed buck, not even panting.

Earth Pony endurance and all.

“So are you.” Dilip quipped, returning to his guard stance, sword in front of him in one paw, the other folded behind his back.

Boss didn’t reply. Instead, he pushed on his forehooves and grabbed a knife Dilip only then noticed in his mouth before taking some weird mix of a bipedal boxing stance. He had his spiked gauntlets around his hooves, and the knife in his mouth.

That… couldn’t be too comfortable.

Regardless, Boss went for another attack, swinging his hooves wildly to try and get an opening for his knife, only for the Captain to leisurely deflect all his strikes with his saber, sidestepping every now and then to create space.

In the background, the 40mm Bofors of the CV90 started booming. A crackling in his radio indicated Artyom and co. were done freeing the prisoners and had now begun requesting actual fire support to help their escape. Each single shot punctuated the death of those few bandits still fighting inside the blazing hotel.

For a weapon system that was originally intended to protect ships from air attacks, the controlled-fuse functionality made it extremely good at taking care of enemies behind cover.

Not that the thought occurred to Dilip at the time beyond the fact he had to duck to avoid being knocked out by hot flying brass from the 40mm. All his attention was focused on Boss, the Earth Pony unrelenting in his assault as he showed no sign of ever stopping for breath.

It was hard to gauge time in the heightened state conferred by the Congo Sword. It felt like the back and forth duel went on for hours, though it couldn’t have lasted more than a few minutes as he and the pony traded blows. If in the beginning, the dog had a distinct advantage thanks to his sword, he soon regretted not pressing the offensive as his stamina wavered and his attacks slowed down, his arms – muscular as they were given his status as a DiamondDog- ached from the effort, the weight of the saber now more noticeable.

Nicks and scrapes marred his arms, along with a small cut on his thigh that forced him to favor his other leg.

Were it not for the Congo Sword showing its offensive capabilities, he would have had to resort to Roberto for backup.

Because he wasn’t really at risk. Not when he was fighting in front of a trio of combat vehicles ready to gun down Boss if things went south for their Captain. Let’s be serious.

One moment, Boss grinned and tried to press the advantage, going for what he assumed to be a gap in Dilip’s defenses.

A feint actually. The tired dog angled himself away from the gauntleted punch, scoring a nasty cut along the side of Boss’ barrel as the blade managed to find a spot that wasn’t covered in jewelry. Blood splattered on the asphalt of the parking lot. Boss let out a pained neigh, but he didn’t go down. Not quite. The wound was only superficial.

What wasn’t was the effect of the Congo Sword. The pony slouched all of a sudden, feeling as though something had just sucked the force right out of him.

“What the...” He groaned, stumbling back on his four hooves, his knife clattering on the ground.

On the other end, Dilip watched Boss’ blood be absorbed inside the blade as it shone in a pinkish light and energy flowed towards the jewel in the pommel. Towards him as well. His fatigue lessened, his stamina came back…

A vampiric effect.

He didn’t get a lot of time to ponder the implications of it before Boss resumed his onslaught, though this time the Earth Pony didn’t have much power behind his blows, nor speed. It only took Dilip a few seconds of parrying and deflecting before he got the opening he wanted.

With a blow that flowed so smoothly it looked like he was dancing, he shifted his stance, twirling the blade so that it flew past Boss’ gauntlets. The elegant weapon whistled through the air, and for a fraction of a second Dilip saw his opponent’s eyes widen in realization.

Cleanly, the saber cut first through his elbow, separating him from one of his forehooves, before it carried on and drew a bloody streak along his barrel and down his thigh.

Boss didn’t scream. He didn’t yell. He just stared mutely at his severed limb, hobbling on two hooves for a few seconds more before he lost his balance and collapsed, gasping in a steadily growing puddle of his own blood.

Dilip didn’t bother cleaning his saber before he sheathed it. The blade just absorbed the blood and repaired itself.

“For what it’s worth… you fought well.” The Captain deplored as he walked over to the dying pony who had blood pouring from his open wounds while he removed the latch on his revolver holster.

“Uh… Knew it had to end at some point.” The pony chuckled darkly.

Boss momentarily tore his eyes away from his bleeding stump. Standing above him, Dilip was pointing his revolver between his eyes.

“Any last words?”

“Come to think of it… yes...” He struggled to say as life fled his body. “Just a request. If you could… up north there is Parris Island. A base. Not far. Just asking… bury me there. That would be one last fuck you to the Corps.”

“Name?”

“Adams.” The pony said, closing his eyes, waiting.

“I’ll consider it.”

There was a single gunshot, and his life came to an end at the speed of a single .38 shot. Dilip watched the body for a couple seconds, an unreadable look on the dog’s muzzle and a bleeding hole between the pony’s large eyes.

“Are you really going to bury him, sir?” Roberto questioned, the cat popping out of his hatch now that the fight was winding down.

“I might.” He replied, putting his revolver back in its holster. “I’ll think about it later, figure out how to dispose of the bodies...” His gaze pointedly lingered over the other unnamed bandits that had been gunned down by the entrance.

He shook his head after a few seconds.

“Anyway, I was a little busy unless you didn’t notice...” Dilip began.

Roberto threw him a ‘no shit’ look, the cat’s crooked ear flicking to the side.

“… ,so, what did I miss?” He asked.

Roberto pointed a digit back towards the hotel’s entrance, and Dilip turned around to witness a long line of creatures emerge out of the building. Mostly ponies of all variants, with a few odd exceptions among the technicolor bunch like a deer or reindeer here and there.

And behind them came the assault, all four accounted for. They were battered, bleeding and limping, their armor singed from the smoke…

… but they were alive.

Artyom made a beeline towards him, the dragon walking as if he had been beaten to the ground, bleeding from multiple holes in one wing’s membrane, his usually blue VDV beret rendered black from the smoke and his kevlar armor torn in a few places where gunshots had grazed it.

Nevertheless, his bosun stood in front of him. Not dignified by any means – he was resting his tail on the ground to prop himself up-, but he made a show of giving his superior a mock salute.

“Mission accomplished sir. All prisoners recovered from the detention floor… not sure about the concubine though. We rescued some, but they may have escaped with the others.”

“Excellent work in any case, bosun.” Dilip thanked him. “You ma-”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence. Artyom just keeled over when the blood loss from his wing caught up to him and would have fallen face-first in the concrete were it not for Dilip catching him.

“Someone get me a health potion over here! Call the ship and wake up Vadim, we’re gonna need the griff’.”

“There we go Captain, timer’s running.” Ignacio said as Green spotted her emerge with the very last members of the engineering crew still on board. “Once we’re off, she’ll dispose of herself. I set it to three hours, can be stopped anytime if something interrupts us.”

Because unstoppable self-destruct doom clocks were yet another fantasy propagated by Hollywood.

USS Georgia had gone quiet about an hour ago when the golden retriever D-Dog that Ignacio had become had flooded the reactor core with seawater, sealing the submarine’s fate at the cold hands of the Atlantic.

Life support and ventilation were all in the red now, having completely given out on them when battery power kicked in, forcing them to rely entirely on portable units and oxygen candles by then. Not that it really posed a problem right then. The minuscule fraction of the crew that remained on board was hardly enough to consume all that air.

Still…

Georgia’s CO felt a twinge in his chest as the diminutive pegasus colt took in his surroundings for the last time. Gone was the ever-present noise of turbines, pumps and machinery that kept his sub running, their seemingly unending might brought to a halt at long last. Gone was the quiet but constant sound of crewmembers busying themselves keeping all systems in order, leaving behind a mess of discarded belongings and other stuff littering the floor of the passageway when some realized they couldn’t take everything to the surface.

For what human clothing and steel-toed shoes were worth to ponies. The more important stuff, family pictures, personal stashes and entertainment, that they did take to the surface.

“Captain?” Ignacio pressed on.

“Sorry, Del Rio...” Green shook off the distraction, cursing in passing his multicolored mane as it came into his line of sight once more. “Just getting nostalgic is all, Eng.”

“Diving bell should dock in ten minutes. That’ll be the last trip.”

Which would make them the last sailors to ever set foot on board of Georgia. Soon, it would be nothing more than a hunk of inert metal and nuclear materials at the bottom of the sea.

And he would be a Captain without a ship.

“Very good then… Great work on your part. I think you and your team will have deserved some rest after this, don’t you think?”

“I reckon I could use a nap, one can only run on coffee for so long after all.” Ignacio yawned widely. “May I ask sir, what’s going to happen next?”

Green opened and closed his mouth a few times. That he didn’t have an answer to. So focused they had been on getting through one problem after another to evacuate the submarine that what would happen once they were all on the surface... hadn’t even crossed his mind.

He was still thinking about it when the hatch to the dive transfer chamber opened and a hippogriff called for them to load their bags inside.

He was still thinking all the way up to the surface, looking through the bell’s single reinforced porthole at the wreck of USS Georgia and all the debris around it, the dark oblong shape of the submarine only lit up by the flares and lamps ofwhat few seapony divers were still in the water at this time in the evacuation. The whole operation had taken them significantly longer than expected, and it was almost dawn already by the time Fugro’s diving bell emerged at long last in the moonpool, before being lifted on deck and deposited on its cradle by one of the deck cranes.

He was still thinking when the merchant sailors – their rescuers- led them towards their cabins for some rest, the engineering team unfortunately split up between Rhine and Fugro due to the latter’s lack of berthing room.

And he was still thinking when a knock on his door finally brought his train of thought to a halt.

“Come in.” Green called aloud, setting aside what little he had in his seabag for the moment and pushing it next to the humongous stacks of documents and paperwork they had salvaged from Georgia.

Two figures made their way inside the cabin. One a unicorn filly, the other a hedgefog – as he had been told the species was called-. Captain Lorelei and Captain Skinner, respectively. If anything, the sight of the German-turned-pink-filly brought a measure of comfort. He wasn’t alone in this case.

“Greeting. It’s good to finally meet you face to face.” Skinner started, the audibly Scottish creature extending a paw towards Green. “I’m relieved we’re done with this at last. I honestly didn’t think we could manage it at first.”

“Well it wasn’t easy, but you pulled through still.” The little pegasus smiled politely, reaching out with a wing to shake his paw.

“Thank you. Can’t say any of us on Fugro trained for that. The seaponies helped. A lot.” Skinner admitted.

“Not much of a surprise there.” Lorelei quipped. “They’re the perfect divers.”

“I noticed as much.” Green nodded. “That seapony hippogriff doctor… Delacroix was it? Really helpful.”

“She’s probably one of the most competent doctors around with all the research she does… though to be fair there aren’t many doctors around to compare her to.” Lorelei shrugged. “No offense to Lilian, Skinner, but your doc isn’t as well acquainted with Equestrian species as she is.”

“There is another doctor?”

“Aye. Doc Sheperd. Irish. She’s the one who’s been making sure none of your crew gets barotrauma. Diver care is her deal.” Skinner explained. “She should be busy overseeing the wounded that have been transferred to Fugro’s sick bay right now.”

“Yet another thing I have to be grateful for.” Green sighed. “And that’s a long list.”

“It’s nothing worth worrying about.” Lorelei approached him and put a hoof over his shoulders. “Offering assistance to vessels in distress is what seafarers do, navy or not. Now the question would be...”

“What’s next.” He completed.

“Yes, because we have plans of our own and schedules to keep to. Once we’re done tidying this all up and picking up the drones and auxiliaries, it will be time to turn off the Dynamic Positioningand go somewhere.” Lorelei told him. “What we’d like to know is where you wish to be dropped off? Kings Bay?”

That would be a start. There weren’t any vessels on base at the time of the Event as far as he knew, but the facilities there would make for a pretty good starting position for the crew. It wasn’t a small base. Plenty of resources too.

Green quickly agreed with the suggestion. The WSU would bring them ashore and stay a little time to allow for their wounded to recover inside the ships’ medical facilities. Time enough for the healthy sailors to get fully briefed on the Brave New World that awaited them, with monsters, magic, and numerous lessons on how their new bodies functioned.

What the merchants didn’t do was to offer the US sailors entry into their organization.

“Not trying to be rude Green… but we work on an international scale and try our best to remain neutral. You… your allegiances are pledged to the United States.” Lorelei explained. “We know your priorities lay with your own countrymen.”

“Don’t yours?”

“Not to such an extent.” She shook her head. “Take my crew. There are over ten nationalities in the lot, some from completely different continents. You’ll find it’s not an uncommon situation for many merchant vessels, and that’s what I think helps make us more… neutral if you will. We have a strict policy on that. Think about it. If news came of a colony that needed urgent help in Murmansk or Kaliningrad, would you – could you- go and help them? In a situation where some more stable colonies in America requested for help, though only for routine work?”

Green hesitated.

“I cannot say.” He finally uttered after a minute.

“And this is why you can’t be part of the WSU. For that matter I don’t think many active navy folks could.” Lorelei said.

“We don’t mean to be insulting.” Skinner crossed his arms. “It’s just that it wouldn’t work in the long run.”

“It’s alright, I understand.” Green made a dismissive gesture with his hoof. “Can’t fault the logic.”

“Glad we’re on the same page then.” The hedgefog let out a relieved sigh before he started digging in one of his pockets. “Now… getting past the return to Kings Bay and the little stay to make sure you’re all set, there was one more thing.”

“Which would be?”

“I didn’t exactly request the info, but one of the guys up north in Savannah with Amandine must have felt you would have some use for it because they gave us this file.” He handed a folded-up bundle of paper to the pegasus who took it in his wing with a puzzled look on his muzzle. “Wasn’t our idea, so you take that however you want.”

Green unfolded the document and looked at it closely. On the first page was an airplane view of several ships anchored alongside each other in the middle of an estuary. He read the title.

Potential recovery of mothballed vessels: Beaumont Reserve fleet, Philadelphia Naval Maintenance Facility.

List of available ships – Relevant data in annexes

Getting a new hull under his hooves now? That was an idea he could get behind.

Everfree deer were naturals when it came to traversing forests. Martin was no exception to it: inexperienced and young as he was, the little fawn hardly made a sound beyond that of the leaves that rustled upon his passage as he went from one game trail to another, easily weaving through the dense shrubbery that grew between the trees. He was moving with purpose.

The fawn was drawn towards the Golden Tree. He could practically hear it calling for him, guiding him towards the clearing where it spread its roots. So focused was he on reaching his goal that he didn’t pay attention to the wildlife and the way it practically parted before him, acknowledging his ties to Cernunnos. Not even the normally aggressive boars impeded his passage through the woods, though they almost started butting heads with the White Stag as the mysterious agent of the Horned God trailed a few ways behind Martin, the bigger deer a lot better at hiding his presence than the fawn was even though his alabaster fur stood out a lot more.

Another thing the young fawn didn’t pay attention to was the possible implications of sneaking out on his adoptive parents and how worried Rock and Meadow might be that he ran off inside the extremely dangerous magic forest on his own.

He was just focused on reaching the Golden Tree’s clearing. Its call in his mind vivid as he drew closer, with one image lingering in his mind: that of the trunk-pedestal holding the purple jewel.

The wind was picking up when he finally arrived, as if the forest was feeling the event that was about to happen and made the trees wave their branches in anticipation. Wood groaned, leaves rustled... And there it was in front of him: the Golden Tree, having had yet another growth spurt that brought it ever closer to the oaks that surrounded the clearing. It was amazing how fast magic could make it grow, as months prior it had barely been sapling-sized.

Now, the crystalline veins that ran along its golden bark thrummed with power, feeding magic to the white gem in its trunk and to the other six pedestal-trunks that surrounded it, each bearing its own element.

Much like how the magic had made a pedestal of sorts for Excalibur, so was it doing for the six elements that surrounded the tree – and what in all likelihood was the ‘lead’ element-. They used to be charred trunks. Now though, magic had covered them in gold and crystal, creating a very organic shape that clashed with the materials they were made of, each encasing the elements’ jewels in a bundle of roots.

Martin stopped at the edge of the clearing, his eyes riveted on the pedestal with the purple element.

That was the moment the tree’s spirit finally chose to manifest itself. A small cloud of white magic detached itself from the upper branches and floated down in front of Martin much to the fawn’s curiosity. The little will-o’-wisp flickered for a bit, as if having some troubles communicating before at last a voice rang out inside his head.

“Hello!” It greeted in a high-pitched, androgynous voice the fawn couldn’t quite place. It felt like… clear water fresh from a mountain stream maybe? Cool, fresh, yet energetic.

“Hello?” Martin greeted back in French, not too sure how to react. “Who are you?”

“I’m the tree.” It replied, as if it were obvious.

“Trees talk?”

“Well I can...” It mumbled. “It’s not easy, but I have a big sister called Harmony. We’re seed siblings. She’s really old and I can’t see her because she’s in another world, but she talks to me. She taught me how to make this.” The little cloud of magic flickered for emphasis. “I can talk to people when I do that, but I’m not very good. Big sis says if I try hard enough I can appear with a body but… it’s not easy. She’s really good at it when she does it. She can look like a sparkly pony!”

“Oh...” Martin blinked. He sat down on his haunches. “She must be nice. I never had a sister. What’s your name?”

“I…I guess? Harmony always has a word… That translates to… Concord, I think?”

“Nice to meet you Concord. I’m Martin.” He chirped, distractedly rubbing one hoof over his antlers. “Did you call me?”

The cloud flickered and hovered from side to side.

“I did? Oh… oh wait yes I did! You’re Purple!”

“No I’m Martin.” The fawn frowned.

“Oh sorry Martin, I didn’t mean it that way.” Concord clarified. “It’s uh… complicated. You see, big si- Harmony I mean, she says I have a very important role to play here.”

“Yeah, Merlin says the same about me.” Martin bobbed his head nonchalantly.

“He’s probably right. Harmony, she says I need to find bearers for my elements.”

“The jewels?”

“All seven of them.” The cloud did a motion Martin was reasonably certain was a nod. “They’re very good at protecting people from bad stuff, but I need to find the people to use them. Harmony says it’s the uh… the Sense I guess? We don’t really use words when we talk. I’m supposed to use it to find who is worthy of using some of the Elements. There is… hold on… Follow me, please?”

Martin stood up quietly, and the little cloud led him closer to the pedestals. It stopped in front of the red one.

“So… big sis explained to me how it worked and all the stuff. She has her own six, but I have seven and she said they’re probably a bit different. Not too much though, and they can change over time. Red here is for Loyalty…” The little cloud started making a tour of the pedestals. “Then you have orange for Bravery, blue is Benevolence, yellow is Honor, green for Integrity, purple...”

Martin’s gaze lingered on the shiny jewel significantly longer than the rest.

“… it’s yours of course. That one is the Element of Sorcery.” Concord told him before moving closer to the tree in the middle of the six pedestals. “And then you have the last one. White. White is for Leadership. White gets Excalibur. And… I’m pretty sure I still need to find six artifacts for the rest. At least I think I should.”

“And I have the Element of Sorcery?” Martin turned back towards the purple one.

“Yeees. I can feel it in you. You’re made for that Element.”

“But I’m not a wizard. I’m still training.”

“You have time. I think.” Concord’s cloud flickered. “Big sis said I need to find all seven bearers to make them work properly, and the Sense says some of them aren’t here. Yet. Harmony said that if you’re not all here, then it’s a bad idea to go fight the bad guys.”

“Bad guys? Who?”

“Not sure yet. But there are always bad guys in an adventure, right? That’s what the Elements are for. They have heroes to use them and protect people from bad guys. And you, you’re Sorcery.”

“Riiight.” Martin drawled, pawing at the ground for a bit. “So what do I do?”

“Well… I don’t have your artifact now, but I suppose you can touch your Element already.” Concord said. “I’ll try to locate it later though! Promise!”

Martin looked at the purple jewel.

He looked back towards Concord. The little cloud bobbed as if to beckon him onward.

Martin lowered his head and tentatively crept towards the Element. His Element. Sorcery. It made sense in a way, what with the interest of Cernunnos, Merlin teaching him wizardry and druid stuff, and Meadow for potions…

Slowly, he lifted his hoof ever closer to the Element. The wind had picked up some more, billowing through the clearing and kicking up fallen leaves. The magic from the element was palpable, almost acting like a force that made the air thrum around the pedestal. He gulped once more, feeling the taste of copper in his mouth, as if he was chewing on a wire.

“Here goes I guess...”

His hoof touched the Element. His vision went white, his very soul suddenly felt as if it had been reunited with a part of him he never knew he had. The strong wind that had been present from the start turned into a whirlwind that swept him off his hooves and the world spun as a golden regalia appeared on his form, adorned with his element and several amethysts.

And when he felt the crescendo couldn’t reach any higher, the wind dropped, the regalia faded away, and Martin dropped unconscious in a pile of leaves that had magically gathered there. Concord went back inside the tree, and the clearing turned still.

Starswirl, Meadowbrook and Rockhoof appeared a few minutes later in a flash of teleportation.

Author's Notes:

And here's the first element bearer to attain his powers, just as the tree's spirit manifests for the first time. I know Martin's role was pretty much telegraphed, so hopefully the thing with Concord came as more of a surprise.

And on the elements being different than the Harmony 6... I got two arguments for that:
* One is that they're from another seed than the original tree (hence Concord).
* Two is that even in Harmony's case, the elements in the pillars' generation didn't have the same name as they had when the Mane 6 became element bearers. I mean, Healing became Kindness, so there's a margin of change.

Lastly... a bit about dragons. Folks are always on about the nigh-impenetrable scales and the crazy high resilience. Wings are still a thing though, and they're a big exposed blood vessel that I figure plays a very important role in regulating the body temperature of a species that's known to run hot.