Next morning, though, brought no clarity.

The creature still had the scroll — probably hid it even better now. The Griffons were still gearing for war, that damned convocations of theirs moving closer with every day. And I had no play save barging into the creatures rooms again, in the flesh this time, and taking that damned thing — a play that was clearly not a good idea.

I hoped that when Gwyr would come, he'd have some more constructive suggestions.

Meanwhile, I paced through my room, and rearranged for the hundredth's time the spells and magics I had available to me, trying to come up with some sort of solution.

Finally, there was a knock at the door, but when I opened it, instead of the Griffon Prince I saw an earth pony filly.

“Uhm, hi, Sunset," she shuffled gingerly in place. “How are you?”

“What do you want?” I looked at her suspiciously.

“Can I come in?” she peeked over my shoulder, looking into my room. No idea what she was trying to find, and what sort of stories little noblefillies told each other behind my back, but she was bound to be disappointed — there was nothing much to see except the general chaos of my small room.

"Look," I tried to remember her name, but after so many years of purposefully ignoring them, it was really hard. "Melon, right?"

"Melody." She said timidly. “It's Sweet Melody."

Of course it was.

I ignored the hoof she offered. "Look, Melody, I'm kinda busy here."

"Oh." she put the hoof down, scratching at the marble floor. "Strawberry Leaf wants to talk to you." Her voice was just radiating concern. Probably fake one at that. "I can tell her that you're busy if you want me to, but she seemed very cross with you. They say they are going to send you back home."

"What?!" That bitch. She could not do this to me! “Why?!”

"I'm sorry!" The filly shrunk away from my gaze, "I— I— just overheard it, that's all! That creature came, the scary-big one, and then Dame asked for you, and..."

“Ice and Nightmares!” I flung the nightstand into the wall, but watching it scatter into the splinters did not bring me any satisfaction.

Sweet Melody shivered, eyes wide with fear.

Damnations. That outburst did not help. I breathed, and when that didn't help, I took a sniff off my snuffbox, hoping to drown out the thumping pulse in my ears that threatened to rip me apart unless I did something.

Except that doing said something to the filly that looked like she was about to faint wouldn’t help me. I needed to get to the source of this instead.

"Fine." The clarity of Count's potion did help a bit to allay my anger. "Fine. I'll go."

"Oh!" She brightened up right away, "That’s great! If you want, I'll take you there.”

I followed the hop-skipping girl down the corridor, a flight of stairs up and right into a trap.

Really, I should've expected it.

"Hello Sunset," Dame Strawberry Leaf was sitting on the biggest armchair in the room, directly facing the doors through which I just came in. The arimaspi counsellor sat by her side, looking at me with his lopsided ugly grin that did not promise anything good. "Please sit."

Sweet Melody closed the door behind me, cutting off any venue of retreat.

"You called for me?" The trap was shut, escape barred, the only thing left was to brave on towards the only chair left for me. It was a low and soft thing — as soon as I sat down, I found that I'd be looking at them from below, and when the Count joined us, sitting on Strawberry’s right, I felt surrounded on every side. Even Melody sitting in the corner, hooves on her knees like a good little schoolfilly seemed in on it.

"So..." I said, after nopony else would, "why did you ask me here?"

"I was hoping you could tell me." Dame Strawberry said, "Is there something you would like to tell us, young lady?"

"I didn't do it!" That wasn't the greatest defence I could come up with so I tried to course-correct. "Whatever it was that he says I did - I didn't."

She raised her eyebrow.

"What is it that you're accusing me of anyways?"

"Magics," the arimaspi whimpered, leaning towards Strawberry's side. "Green unicorn magic, powerful, and strong. Yes, yes, my room destroyed, tools broken," the armaspi whined. "Terrifying, yes, yes, terrified I was."

"Sunset, you understand that if you're in any way involved in this, I will have to send you back home. Acting out like this is completely unacceptable."

"I didn't do it!" I repeated stubbornly. "I was in the library with the little prince, and then I went to my rooms, and I stayed there!" And you can't prove otherwise,

“You are the only one here with a green aura, Sunset,” The Count noticed. “And you are a very powerful magician.”

“Doesn’t mean I did it! Besides, somegriffon would’ve noticed the magic if I tried it. I’m not that stupid.”

“We will ask the young Prince,” Dame allowed. “But before we do - are you sure you don’t want to— Your Highness!" The Dame jumped off the chair, and so did the other ponies. The arimaspi bowed as well, his bound horn touching the ground, and his sole eye watching his Prince with suspicion. Even I stood up, turning to see Gwyr enter the room. "What brings you here?"

"I was looking for Lady Shimmer," he made a gesture for the ponies to rise, "And I was told she's here. I hope I'm not interrupting something important."

"We were trying to find out what happened to your esteemed counsellor's rooms. Some sort of magical attack."

"Yes, yes." The creature nodded. "Somepony attacked my rooms, destroyed my tools."

"That is horrible." Gwyr’s voice stayed even, even as his eyes darted towards me for a second. "And is Lady Shimmer helping out?"

"Well, we were just asking where she was yesterday. We were afraid— we hoped that—"

“Oh. I believe I can resolve the argument, then," Gwyr said, stepping by my side, his wing settling on my shoulder, "The Lady was with me — we were talking in her rooms. I even bumped into my lord Fancy in the corridor on my way there."

"Did you?" The Count shifted uncomfortably.

"Why yes, I did. You were... resting," there was a strange twitch along the Prince's wing as he said that, something he tried to hide, and his tone grew very careful, almost hushed. "I helped you to your room."

"Ah." The Count moved his jaw. "I remember now. Quite too much wine, I'm afraid." he smiled guiltily, shrinking away under Strawberry glare. "The young Prince is quite right. After he rescued me to my room, I do believe he was on his way to Miss Shimmer and I believe she was in her room for the rest of the evening — I even paid her a visit when I felt better."

"Right!" So that’s why he looked like a hung-over ghost when he came by last night. The persistence with which the lordling found enough of wine to get himself drunk.... "He did. So there!" I looked triumphantly at the Dame.

"Well," Dame Strawberry pursed her lips, and gave me a long, stern look, searching for the signs of deception. Finally she turned to the creature. "As you see, that young lady had nothing to do with this."

The arimaspi threw an angry glare at me — and for some reason at the Count, but he couldn't argue with his own Prince. He bowed again, his curved back bending almost in two.

"I'm sorry, Sunset." Strawberry turned to me. "I shouldn't have assumed the worst."

"Dame, gentlemares, my lord." The Prince nodded to the ponies. "Since this matter is resolved, may I borrow Lady Shimmer for a while?"

"Of course, your Highness," Dame nodded. "We will sort this thing out by ourselves. Sunset..." She wanted to say something, but decided against it. “Sorry to have called you here.”

I nodded awkwardly. At least I got the apology out of this, whatever it was worth, but still, it was too close.

"That was too close," Gwyr said, soon as we returned to my room. "You were careless."

"Yeah. Thanks for the save." I flopped on my bed. "I owe you one."

He shrugged, making that protective-cutting gesture with his claw again. ”Don’t mention it. But there’s another problem.”

“What is it?” I asked tiredly, trying to find the snuffbox. At this rate, I would soon need to ask the Count for another one.

“Your Count, Lord Fancy, he’s been talking you up a lot — your stories, for one, but also your altercation with Lord Graven. Both of them. And Gideon, well, he’s seen fit to repeat the story to his friends, with one question appended: Could the griffon beaten by a little pony, still be considered a griffon?”

"And the other eagles started asking him that to his face."

"Most certainly. Taunts and jeers and mocking, Gideon first of them all... Graven's riled up worse than a novice bull on a third touch. I'm afraid he'd do something stupid."

“Ugh.” I threw a pillow at a wall. The little bully posed no threat, and in any other circumstance I would be welcoming the diversion, but now I did not need another complication. “I’ll deal with it.”

Somehow.

“We need a plan.”

Well, thank you, Fetlock Hooves. I knew that already.

I didn’t say it, though — that much diplomacy I understood even then. “What do you know about the creature?” Perhaps something Gwyr knew would help me come up with a plan.

"The creature? Oh, you mean the counsellor — the one you say has the other scroll."

"I know he does!" I shook my mane stubbornly. "I've seen it."

"What have you actually seen?” He let my outburst slide. “have you read it? If you did we could—"

"No.” I admitted. “I just saw a scroll the creature was hiding. I had no time to read it, or even open it."

"So you don't know that it's even the right thing."

I had nothing to answer to that. I reached instead for my snuffbox, and took a pinch.

"The arimaspi has been here forever." Gwyr said, shrugging. "Years really. Why would he lie, or hide things from us? He's been as much invested in stopping this nonsense as I."

“Yeah, about that.” I fell back on my bed, “He’s working for the Drowner. For Ahuizotl,” It was hard to read griffon expressions, their immovable beak and all, but I saw that he could not believe me. I took another breather to drown out the anger. “He told me so himself. And no, I don’t have any proof. I don’t have any evidence, any confirmation. I have nothing!”

“We have to try…”

"What is it that you don't have, Miss Shimmer?" The Count opened the door of my rooms, waiting for permission to enter. "Milord, it is always a pleasure to see you." He bowed to the prince with formal politeness.

I threw a spell to extinguish the alarm-runes on the jamb making my horn buzz with pointless warning and tried to remind myself why I couldn't do the same with the nobling.

"Nothing."

"What brings you here milord?" Gwyr's tone wasn't quite confrontational, but—

"I wanted to thank Your Highness for helping Miss Shimmer today."

"Yeah," I snorted, "someone had to."

He stood at the porch for a while.

"So, may I come in? I come bearing gifts!" he pushed a tray of canapes into view.

I deliberated for a few seconds, but the Count already knew most of what we were about to discuss and he did seem to be the least useless of the noblepony crowd -- when he was sober, at least. We could use him

"Come in." I finally came to a decision. "I don't have much in terms of bread and wine, but be my guest."

The Count nodded, accepting my invitation and hobbled into the room. Dumping the tray on the nightstand found himself a chair close to the bed and settled in.

"Are you alright?"

His smile was strained, and his bottom lip was bothered raw.

"I'm fine, Miss Shimmer. Quite fine."

Though he stopped biting his lip, and his voice was level, I saw the way he moved, leaning against the low table, a tension in his muscles... he was not fine.

He wolfed down a canape, and almost inhaled the something from his flask.

"Just a little tired."

"I see."

"So, Miss Shimmer. What is it that you don't have and how can I help?"

Right. Whatever. The lordling's hangover, or whatever it was, didn't matter. We were trying to plan here.

I shared a look with Gwyr.

"We believe..." he started. "That there may be some information is being withdrawn from my brother—"

"—the arimaspi is—"
"The scroll missing from the—"
"If we could—"

Speaking over each other, stumbling and repeating ourselves, we told the Count everything we knew.

Well, almost everything. I was not about to cop to bashing the creature's rooms just after I lied about it.

"I see," the Count said. "You two did quite some work for amateur sleuths"

"But it doesn't help!" I groaned. "We know everything now. We know what's going on but we don't have any proof. We don’t have any evidence, any way to make them listen, any…

"...any power?"

"Yes. Precisely." for all my spellwork, for all my little tricks and knacks, I had no power. "It sucks."

"You could go to the Prince. Or to the King." The Count suggested. "Though without proof—"

I sighed. That lesson I was not eager to repeat.

"And if the counsellor does have the scroll , and hears about it, it may just as well destroy it," Gwyr added.

"Quite. It's a conundrum indeed. But imagine you had it.” the Count suggested, “What then?”

“Why we’d bring it to my brother, and…”

“No we won’t!” I shot up. “No way!”

“He has to know that he's making a mistake. Gideon is an honorable griffon, I'm sure that he…”

"He’ll what? Admit he was wrong?" I interrupted him again. "Oh, and maybe apologise? Maybe he'll bake ponies a cake while he's at it?"

Gwyr looked at me, slowly moving his wings, and said nothing, lowering his head.

"We need the element of surprise. To ambush him somewhere crucial. Where everyone can see it, and no one can say that they have not heard it."

“You want to do it at a convocation?” Gwyr asked. He did not like that idea.

“Yes.” I, however, did. “That’s perfect. Everygriffon right there, they would not be able to deny me.”

Gwyr shrugged helplessly and waved his wing, giving up. "As long as we actually have it."

"If you have it," the Count corrected him dryly.

“We could try again. Sneak into his rooms or...”

“You’ll get in trouble if you’re caught. With King-my-Father or with the ponies. They’ll send you back to Equestria.”

“Well then I don’t get caught!” I insisted stubbornly. “Do it right this time.”

"I'm afraid I would not be able to let you do it, Miss Shimmer.”

"But it's important! If we could get that cursed scroll, then..."

"I'm sorry." he shrugged. "But the stakes are too high. I'd have to tell the Dame."

"Ice and Nightmares." I sulked, sinking back into the bed.

He leaned towards me. "Don't despair, miss Shimmer." His hoof touched my foreleg. It felt warm, and his eyes seemed suddenly close to mine. "I'm sure you will find a way, and if I may say, sometimes—"

His magic holding the glass suddenly cut out, and it fell, splashing the champagne every way.

The prince jumped up, vaulting himself on the back of a chair to avoid the scattering of the drinks everywhere. His back arched, and claws ripping through the upholstery, he looked for a second like a spooked cat,

I wiped the champagne off my muzzle slowly and looked at the wincing Count.

"Sorry?" he offered, trying to reach for his kerchief, but his magic dispersed with nothing but a few golden sparks.

"Perhaps you are... more tired than you realised, milord?" Gwyr suggested uncomfortably, forcing himself to settle back down on the chair.

"Well..." The Count shifted his hooves and looked at the empty glass, rolling on the floor. "No, I'm fine. I'm fine."

"Are you... are you drunk?!" How on earth did he manage to get himself sloshed already this early in the morning? And on the pony champagne no less!

"Me?" That question seemed to blindside the Count. He stared at his hoof thinking deeply. "I don't think so?" He swayed, but caught himself, straightening out. "Maybe just a little," he concluded. He tried to look at me straight, but his eyes didn’t quite focus right. “But that’s nothing. I’ll be fine. I can still be of assistance.”

"Get out." I sighed. The lordling was barely useful when sober, much less like this.

“But Miss Shimmer!”

I picked him up in my magic, and carried him to the door. "Out."

The Count sighed, but duly stepped back into the corridor, looking to each side. "Miss Shimmer.” he said, suddenly clear and focused. "I know you feel like you have no power in this situation. But if I could give you some advice I once got from a deer friend of mine — sometimes, the power is not just in what you have, but also in what others think you have."

"Go get some sleep, my lord.” I sighed. “Just... not here."

“Now,” I turned to Gwyr, who tried to lower his wings and keep away from the sticky carpet. “Where were we?”

“A plan, Lady.” He sighed, settling back into the chair. “We need it.”

“Right, right.” I settled back into the bed as well, opening the windows to chase away the saccharine smells of spilled champagne and the lordlings posh cologne. “A plan.”

“We need that document. Without it we have nothing.”

“We do.” I thought about the Count’s last advice. And then a memory, a faint association, bubbled up. A party - a get together, pony drinks, pony colours, a joint and salt-licks passed around, and Lulamoons showing tricks and hustles, cards flashing in his hoof, twisting and turning: a simple Three Card Monte.. “But sometimes the trick is not about where something is, but where you think it is.”

“Huh?”

“Listen.” I tried to grab at the idea, feeling the excitement of finally having something. “Listen. What if we already had it?”

“Yes, as you said, we’ll have to keep it secret from my brother.” He said curtly. “Reveal it at the Convocation. But we don’t.”

“Right. That’s what we would do. But what would the creature do?”

The understanding slowly dawned. “He’d try to get it. If it was the counselor, if he’s hiding it from my brother, he’d need to have the other one too.”

“If!” I started, raising my hoof…. but it was pointless, so instead I sighed and let it go. “Yes, whatever. Whoever is doing this, whoever found the second scroll, he’d be lured out.”

“Same as you.” He pondered. “It’s a stretch.”

“But it’s a plan. The only one we’ve got.”

“We’ll need a fake.”

“And a way to pass it to me, so that the creature knows...”

“...but not my brother...”

“...and spread the rumour…”

“... set the trap…”

We were so in sync, finishing each other's sentences, as the plan snapped into place one by one. The arimaspi did not stand a chance.

Or so I thought.

Foreheads, covered with curls, sweating late in the night,
 And a spinning sensation of a joyful, sweet dread... 
We got dizzy from that scent of fabulous fight, 
Which was pouring on us from the pages we read.
 
 And we tried to perceive - we, who knew not of wars - 
What an ambush felt like, what a chariot was; 
Why the borders were set, what it means to obey 
When retreat is called for, but one has to stay. 

Fancy Pants, Count Hoofington
Ballad of Strife