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“That it does,” Tall Order echoed. “To think that the Celestia has fallen to such lows. Not even during her darkest hour did Luna consider such tactics.”

The one remaining dog said nothing, merely remaining still, arms clasped tight at his sides.

“It would be unethical to demand anything more of them,” I remarked.

“Indeed,” Tall Order agreed.

Our conversation was interrupted by the doors opening, and a very familiar stallion appearing in the doorway. He looked nearly identical to Tall Order, with the only noticeable difference being that the new arrival was slightly taller. The pair seemed to know one another, as the new pony trotted up Tall Order, and paused to catch his breath.

“I’m assuming the others have been calmed, and that we have suffered no additional losses,” Tall Order began.

The second stallion nodded once before clearing his throat. “All told we have two dead, ten wounded, and nine missing. Terrible, but it could have certainly been worse.”

“I suppose so,” Tall order muttered.

“Excuse me, who is this?” I asked.

“Pen Stroke, my shadow. We hold the same station and are legally one person,” Tall Order declared, only to frown. “I had thought you met.”

“I…” I paused, only now realizing that I had forgotten Pen Stroke’s name and had simply assumed that he was Tall Order. “I got mixed up. Regardless, I was wondering what you had planned on doing now.”

“We are not sure,” Tall Order exclaimed. “The losses are tragic, but we simply don't have the strength to take on a well-organized and dug-in force like the diamond dogs.”

“We will likely have to retreat, and accept your offer sooner rather than later,” Pen Stroke declared.

I glanced over to the corner of the room where the pile of pony skeletons had been and noted that they were gone. Though I wasn't totally sure where they were, I could still sense that they were near, likely kept somewhere out of sight.

“You know,” I interrupted. “I could aid you by bolstering your numbers. Though the manner in which this happens may be… unpalatable to most.”

Tall Order and Pen Stroke exchanged a glance before turning away.

“You, you, out. You, get the prisoner locked up somewhere secure. Make sure he's fed and watered,” Tall Order barked.

His shadow, Pen Stroke, hastily moved about the room, pushing the others to go about their business a little faster. Once it was done, we were alone in the throne room, with no one to overhear our conversation.

“How exactly do you intend on doing this?” Tall Order demanded.

“I could raise your fallen, and set them to work defending you,” I stated quite frankly. “I know it may be rather grim, but they would not be enslaved, nor would I use them against the wishes of the remaining family.”

Pen Stroke seemed offended for a moment, but Tall Order didn't flinch at the suggestion. In fact, he seemed to be expecting it.

“Provided we get permission from all remaining parties, I think this is manageable,” Tall Order muttered.

“I know things are dire, but this… this is too much,” Pen Stroke retorted.

“Do you see any other options?” Tall Order retorted.

Pen Stroke sighed and shook his head. “No. I know this is the only real chance we have but it still saddens me.”

“The moment they are no longer needed I could return them to their rest, and it's not like they would be enslaved or anything so cruel as that,” I pressed.

“I know, I know. I’ve read all about your kind, and their strange method of acquiring ‘help’,” Pen Stroke remarked, adding air quotes around the last word.

“I don't foresee many ponies resisting this suggestion,” Tall Order offered.

“I don't either,” Pen Stroke agreed.

“Though I would like something in return for this offer,” I interrupted. “It would be a significant expenditure of power, and I would be committing to assist you for some time.”

“I assume you won't demand such payment immediately,” Tall Order half asked, half stated.

“No,” I replied, Shaking little Rainy’s head. “We could think of something later, but I would need promises that the favor would be returned, one day.”

“That is… acceptable,” Pen Stroke declared.

“Perhaps we should begin speaking to the families of the deceased,” Tall Order prompted.

“I suppose we should,” Pen Stroke regretfully agreed.

“I will allow Rainy to continue visiting with her parents while I look after my own prisoner,” I added.

“You took one of the dog’s captive?” Pen Stroke asked, eyebrows raised.

“I have,” I admitted. “Though he has yet to awaken.”

“Let us know what else you discover,” Tall Order urged.

“Of course,” I exclaimed.

Then with a slight bow, I relinquished control of Rainy Day’s body, causing her to stumble briefly. My apologies. I thought. I won't have need of you for a few hours so feel free to return to your family.

Then I’d have to come back here? Rainy Days inquired.

If you don't mind. I replied.

Rainy Days nodded. “Okay, goodbye Tall Order, Pen Stroke.”

“Goodbye Rainy Days,” Pen Stroke exclaimed.

“And enjoy the time you have with your family,” Tall Order added.

“I will,” Rainy Days declared.

She then trotted off, and I slowly allowed my consciousness to leave her as much as was possible. Focusing my attention back on my grove, my prisoner, and Stalwart, the aged mare having not moved an inch.

“Ahh, your back,” she muttered.

“I spoke with your leaders,” I remarked, through the mouth of my draconic servant. “Things have not gone well for your former neighbors.”

Stalwart snorted and glared down at the still sleeping dog. “Let me guess, more of these flea bags?”

“Indeed,” I admitted. “Though I’ve offered to remedy their security issues by giving them an unbreathing force of guards, I am uncertain if they will agree.”

Stalwart eyed me closely, studying the face of my bone dragon puppet closely. I don't know if she was doing this purely to try and unnerve me or if she could really detect my emotions. Regardless, I couldn't help but feel as though she was successful if only a little bit.

“They will,” she remarked after a long pause. “Most don't have family, which makes their bodies property of the crown. Or in this case, Pen and Tall.”

“Regardless, I hope they will come up with some way to pay me back soon. I am certain that this resurrection will cost me dearly given how far away it is,” I admitted.

Stalwart was quiet once more, the pony staring off into the distance this time, eyes glazed and unfocused. Thinking that she was no longer willing to talk, I started to move away, only for a hoof of hers to suddenly shoot up.

“Wait a second,” she commanded.

I paused and sat back down.

“What exactly do you hope to gain in return?” Stalwart asked.

“Life force, preferably,” I exclaimed. “Be it from captured prisoners, condemned criminals, or simple beasts caught in cages. I am expending power, and simply wish to be paid back what I use.”

“Tit for tat,” she muttered.

I simply sat there, staring as the mare ruminated on something important. After nearly a minute of silence, she turned to me, her face relaxing, and her shoulders falling. All at once she seemed… old, beaten down, and weak. The hard edge that surrounded her was gone, and all at once, she appeared to have two hooves in the grave.

“I will pay this price,” Stalwart declared.

“You will,” I muttered in shock.

“I will,” she repeated.

“Why?” I replied.

“Because I’m dying you fool,” she spat. “The wasting is probably only a few days from taking my legs, I’m almost blind, and I’m starting to have trouble hearing. Soon there won't be much left of me to take and I don't want to die a useless pile of flesh.”

“Are you sure you shouldn't speak to your relatives or friends?” I offered.

“Got none,” she muttered, the pride in her voice slipping away. “All I ever wanted was to avenge my grandparents. To live up to my family name, and do my momma proud. Now that the war’s over…”

Stalwart Steel was quiet for several long seconds before snorting suddenly.

“I’ve been dead for a while. My body just hasn't realized it yet, but that time is comin’,” she stated.

“It will be painful,” I pointed out.

The mare threw a stone at my head. “I know that you idjit!” she shouted. “But it won't be half as painful as what my life will soon look like so don't patronize me.”

“Right,” I muttered, glancing around. “Would you like to write a will, or perhaps record a few words?”

Stalwart snorted. “I ain't got nothin' left to my name, save my honor and I’ll be taking that to my grave.”

“Speaking of which. I could raise you back, as I did Rainy,” I offered. “You would not need for sleep, or suffer an illness.”

“No,” she declared quite sternly.

“No,” she repeated, quieter this time. “I’m done fighting, done dying, done being used up and spat out the other end. All I want is to rest, but if you have use for these old bones then I say go ahead. I won't be needin’ em where I’m goin’.”

I nodded. “I’ll let Pen and Tall know.”

“No,” Stalwart interrupted. “Those old coots will try to dissuade me and I don't know if I have the heart to tell ‘em off again. You can tell ‘em after the deed’s done. Then it doesn't matter.”

I wanted to refuse, to force her to think about this more or talk to another pony about it only to stop myself. I would not strip away the rights of another, nor would I make a decision for someone, even out of kindness. I had committed to those ideals and doubled down on them when I brought back Rainy Days. I couldn't simply go back on them now because my choices became a bit more grey, and a bit darker.

“Alright,” I agreed. “Though I insist that you make some kind of will if only to prove that I did not in any way force this upon you.”

“Don't worry about that. I fully intended on dying here one way or another and they knew it,” Stalwart retorted, ambling awkwardly up from the rock she had been leaning on and making her way towards me.

“Really? That is… on brand for you,” I muttered.

“Brand?” she snorted. “You’re a strange one and I’m not just saying that because you’re a talking tree.”

“I get that a lot,” I replied.

The mare trundled over to my trunk and began the seemingly painful process of just lying down. I attempted to assist, but she swatted away my boney hand, refusing any help. Once she was comfortable, the pony sighed and closed her eyes.

“Wake me up when those whiny old stallions get their ducks in a line,” she muttered.

“Will do,” I muttered.

Taking a step back, I watched the mare relax and begin to breathe a little slower. Though not asleep, she was close, and I didn't want to interrupt her, not only because I didn't want to get yelled at again. Pushing that thought out of my mind, I turned to the still unconscious dog laying nearby.

I was going to be distracted while I was raising all of those thestrals, so I picked him up in a great boney hand. For a moment I was unsure of what to do with him, but then I remembered that I had other friends here. Walking over to a nearby thorn bush, I gently laid the dog down, and focused inward, communicating with the plant.

After a few moments of surprisingly intense diplomatic discussions, the bush opened and allowed me to place the dog inside. There, the bush thickened until escape was impossible, but would not harm its charge provided they didn't move. With that done, I extended my senses, and focused on Rainy Days once more, noting that she was in the company of her family.

The trio was quiet, with Cracked Wheel humming to himself while he made some kind of soup in a large pot. White Iron rested just outside the range of the fire, her head laying on a torn pillow likely taken from a couch. Rainy Days was batting a ball back and forth between her forehooves, content but steadily growing bored. They were outside the main castle, just off to the side, what remained of my swarm huddled in a nearby alleyway.

For a moment I considered simply letting them be, and figuring something out with the undead animals I controlled. Then Rainy Days perked up, and I knew she was eager to do anything other than simply lying on the street.

Did you need something uncle? She asked.

I was hoping to speak to Tall Order and Pen Stroke. I replied. But if you’re busy…

I’m not busy. I can do that! She helpfully declared.

“Is it Xathrid?” Cracked Wheel asked, glancing at Rainy out of the corner of his eye. “I hope it's not more bad news.”

“No,” Rainy answered. “Uncle Xathrid just needs to talk to Pen and Tall again.”

“Just be back before dinner,” White Iron murmured without opening her eyes. “I know you don't need to eat anymore but that doesn't mean you can't enjoy a meal with your family.”

“I know mom,” Rainy replied.

“Well, you better hurry then dear. Wouldn't want to leave all those important ponies waiting,” Cracked Wheel offered.

“Okay, bye,” Rainy shouted before sprinting off towards the castle.

It was nice to see that the two of them were adapting so quickly to Rainy Days' current predicament. The way they came together so soon, and accepted her so readily warmed whatever fascimile of a heart I had. Plus it was just nice to see that although strange, Rainy Days would still have some manner of childhood. It would get weird in a few years when she wanted to be an independent adult, but we would cross that bridge when we came to it.

By the time I had finished my musings, Rainy Days had reached the throne room and was barge inside. I stopped her before she could do so, however, and pointed out the two thestrals that were hastily moving to oppose her sudden entrance.

Maybe ask them first. I offered. It would be rude to enter unannounced.

“Fine,” Rainy Days muttered. “Uncle Xathrid wants to talk with Tall and Pen.”

“They are almost done deliberating, just wait a moment longer please,” warned the exasperated middle-aged thestral.

“Okay,” Rainy Days murmured.

I distracted her by pointing out that one of the side rooms had a bunch of paintings in them. Together we inspected the aged, and weather-beaten pieces of art, though me more than her. Children were children after all, though she did like all the ones that depicted battles. Which were most of them, though the actual forces were blurred, their forms skewed by time and the elements. Thankfully it didn't take long for the other thestral guard to return, as Rainy Days' limited attention span was running out.

“Alright, you can come in,” she offered.

“Finally,” Rainy Days whined.

The child scampered through the other pony’s legs and dashed for the door, slipping through the narrowing opening. Once inside, she made a beeline up to Tall Order, ignoring the fact that a large number of thestrals were attempting to leave. The young undead was bored and pushed her way up to the group of adults speaking animatedly near where a throne would normally sit.

“Is all the talking over?” she loudly proclaimed.

“I uh, yes. I suppose it is,” Tall Order muttered.

The stallion waved away the other adults that clustered around him, save for Pen Stroke.

“Almost all have given their consent to bring back the victims of the dogs, and Zaxonis,” Pen Stroke offered.

May I take it from here? I asked.

My answer came when I was all but thrown into the driver’s seat, the force of the sudden transition almost knocking me from my hooves. I hastily righted myself and made a note to chastise Rainy Days, as well as come up with some manner of lesson.

“Kids,” I muttered.

“I take it we are speaking to Xathrid now,” Tall Order half asked, half stated.

“You are,” I answered. “Now let us do this quickly. I have a rather ornery thorn bush I owe a favor to.”

“Rrright,” Pen Stroke muttered, gesturing towards the entrance. “If you’ll follow us we’ll direct you to where we’ve been keeping the uh, remains.”

“And discuss with you our terms while we do so,” Tall Order added.

“Of course,” I agreed.

Together we made our way towards the exit once more, the small crowd having cleared, though a few remained. We maneuvered around them and began to travel deeper into a section of the castle I had yet to see with my own eyes.

“First off, we hold the right to rescind your use of them at any point in time for whatever reason,” Tall Order began. “In addition, we were hoping for some manner of promise that you would not use them to monitor or spy on us.”

“I mean. I can ignore them, but they’d make pretty terrible guards if I didn't pay attention to their surroundings,” I replied.

Pen Stroke sighed. “We feared as much. Perhaps there is a way you could… use them much in the way that Zaxonis did his wolves.”

“That is… possible,” I admitted. “I could also teach you how to make your own wolves, and you could keep the undead stowed away somewhere until needed. I would need at least one semi-intelligent servant to remain in the area to oversee things.”

“That is reasonable. For now, they will serve as the guards we need, but in time they will be placed into retirement,” Tall Order exclaimed.

I nodded along but said nothing a little in awe of their forward thinking. I had considered something similar but they were clearly more adept at planning than I. They were clearly intelligent, and may even be able to help me with my own schemes, though that would come later.

At the moment we were entering what had likely been the cold storage for a nearby kitchen area. Inside I found a great mound of bones, and three freshly killed corpses, all I assumed, of thestrals. The more recently dead I could tell for certain, but the bones were, well, bones.

“We will remain outside,” Tall Order offered.

“Wait,” I interrupted. “Your debt has been paid by the way.”

Pen Stroke sighed, and ran a hoof down his head. “Let me guess, Stalwart?”

I nodded.

“And she is not going to give anyone the chance to speak to her, I assume?” Tall Order added.

I shook Rainy Days' head.

“Predictable,” they both muttered before leaving.

I chuckled, and walked over to the mound of bones, using my necromantic senses to identify them. Sure enough, they were all from thestrals, though I’d need to separate them before I could raise them properly. I could sense that simply raising them as they are now would make some sort of horrific amalgam, or otherwise create problems.

While I did that, I switched back to my grove and focused on Stalwart once more.

“It is time,” I rumbled.

“Get it over with already. I can feel my sight leaving me already, and I don't wish to enter the next life as blind as those sun-obsessed morons I spent so long fighting,” Stalwart barked, her eyes snapping open.

“If you insist,” I replied.

“Oh and make sure you use my bones to kick the flank of those self-righteous morons,” Stalwart demanded. “Nothing would make me rest easier than knowing that I would still be doin’ what I do best even when I ain't here anymore.”

“I promise,” I answered.

“Well then, get on with-”

I pulled and pulled hard, all but tearing the flesh from Stalwart’s bones in a single instant. So fast was the process that she barely even had a chance to feel any pain before her features melted away. I took only a small amount of joy in interrupting her for once, though that feeling grew as a great wave of energy suddenly coursed through me.

Though the amount of muscle and other tissue she had left was minimal when finally the last bit of meat had been absorbed I was remarkably invigorated. She had so many memories, so many skills, abilities, and talents that I struggled to even name them all. Stalwart was a soldier, she knew how to fight, how to maintain weapons and armor, and how to prepare meals in the field.

She had known how to dress most wounds when to counter-attack, when to hold back and when to run. Although no general, she had the type of experience that came from bloody conflicts, and many battlefields. Though not as adept at stealth, she knew how to muffle the sounds of her hooves, and make silent her armor.

Other skills flashed through my mind, though they all followed the same theme of being about a professional soldier. Though I also now knew how to knit, crochet, stitch, and was suddenly a fairly expert weaver for some reason. It made me wonder if there was some hidden grandmotherly side to Stalwart that she never let anyone see. Either way, no one would ever know now, as she was well beyond the point of anyone finding that information out.

With that done, I just kind of sat there, picking through bones and cycling through skills, barely even paying attention to my newest servant. The skeletal thestral stood there, waiting for a command, their bones perfectly bleach white and unblemished. Not until I had separated out all the victim’s remains from one another did I really refocus on my surroundings again.

I started by checking on the dog, and finding that he was still unconscious, I moved on to Rainy Days. Who I could feel was puppeting not her own body, but rather one of the undead lizards I had brought with me back to the thestral base. I watched as she scampered about the castle, spooking random ponies before slipping away before they could respond.

Well then. I guess she can do that now. I thought to myself. I think I’ll study that more later.

Focusing on the various skeletal remains before me, I zeroed in on the first one and began the process of raising it. It took a bit more energy, as I assumed, but it was not outside of my power, especially with the latest boost. This still kind of shocked me with how powerful it had been, clearly the freshness had something to do with it.

One by one, I raised each of the skeletal thestrals, my attention slowly splitting between more and more bodies. I had experience guiding hundreds of individual creatures at this point, though ponies took a bit more focus. Still, I had more than enough strength and attention left in me so I wasn't about to complain nor worry.

In the end, I ended up with an even two dozen skeletons before I settled over the forms of the more recently deceased. Killed in the diamond dog raid, they had yet to even really begin to rot and seemed ready to stand up at any moment. It was a grim sight, but I pushed it out of mind, and summoned my power once more, starting with the older of the two.

He took slightly more power than the skeletons but rose once more after a little prompting. Unlike the skeletons, who sported a set of small flaming green orbs where their eyes were, the zombie’s unseeing orbs glowed faintly. His movements were also a bit more sluggish than the nimble skeletons, but that made sense since he was a zombie.

With one final creature left to raise, I hovered a hoof over the slit thestral’s head, a sense of dread settling over me. I could sense that the spirit lingered, though I couldn't tell where it was, or what exactly it wanted. Either way, I had a job to do, and so I pushed the barest hint of my power into the corpse, only for it to immediately leap back up.

A cry of rage spilled from its dead lips, and without any prompting from me, it began looking around. While it did so, I noticed that its head was beginning to smoke, its mane quickly burning away and leaving behind an unpleasant aroma. By the time it realized that its foe wasn't around, the flesh on its skull was melting away to reveal the skull beneath.

I felt its desire to seek vengeance, and though powerful, I stifled it, causing the flames burning on its head to fade but not die. I could feel the raging spirit rankle beneath my commands to stay still, but it relaxed once I told it my plans. It would get its revenge, of that I was certain, but I would need to scout, to plan, to seek them out.

“Alright there Johnny Blaze, let's relax a bit and think about this rationally,” I muttered.

I could feel the soul remained within the body but it was not sentient, not truly anyway. Little more than a ball of raging emotion and an intense desire to kill, it fought my control but was still under my command. I was about to start trying to figure out what exactly it was when I felt something strange wash over the deer skull.

“What-” Rainy Days began.

“Now,” my dragon servant finished.

Gazing up at the deer skull hovering and glowing in mid-air I was immediately struck by just how familiar the magic felt. Whoever, or whatever was currently casting a spell on it had been the same person as before when it had glowed earlier. I immediately expected that something terrible was going to happen, and tried to shake off the aura. That didn't work, and I didn't know enough about countering enemy magic to really have a chance of doing that either. Left with no other option than to simply sit there and watch, I did just that.

Until all of a sudden, it vanished in a flash.

I focused on the connection I had with the skull, and was able to find that it had teleported a considerable distance. Just barely on the edge of my zone of control, it sat in a pile of half-rotten gore in the middle of what seemed to be a tent. Above me, staring down were a pair of deer, and a single pegasus mare wearing a set of heavy golden armor.

Fuck.