~Caro~

Here I stand beneath the warm and soothing rain... and it’s a real nuisance. It’s been quite some time since I’ve been caught in a rainstorm such as this. Winter usually brings this sort of weather to Equestria, but it’s hardly acceptable when the raindrops are like pebbles. Even Shae’s protective shield is beginning to falter. I have to resort to wrapping my head in a blanket to keep the water out of my eyes, and for the record, I find any article of clothing incredibly uncomfortable. Better than the rain, though.

Little black Boysenberry taking steps out of Equinesreach gives me hope that we can finally get out of this torrent, but the only good news I receive is, "Jarl Drake will be with you in a moment.” The colt bows to a passing Imperial soldier and lets him inside Equinesreach before continuing. “To say this has been an eventful few days would be an understatement larger than, uh...” Another soldier walks past, much to Boysenberry’s annoyance. He bows, lets him inside once again, and then gestures to the town square. “Perhaps we can discuss this elsewhere?” he says with exasperation.

Shae, Tohro and I follow the pint-sized wizard down the stone steps. I stretch my limbs out on a wooden bench while Tohro and Shae kick back against the tree. Boysenberry trots in circles. “This is unnerving. My mind is overloaded with all this noise and clattering of soldiers trotting about in their gleaming armor that I’ve been unable to put any more research into the dragons. So many voices...”

I lean forward with my hooves under my chin. “Is research truly necessary?” Reliving the sight of Hevnodiin spiraling to his death brings about a grin. “I’ve already slain a second dragon without error.” I hesitate, remembering the family glazed over with ice, frozen in a state of horror. “Error on my part, I mean. Many ponies did perish to his destruction before I took his soul. Still, all’s well that ends well, right?”

That’s a foolish thing to even think. I can tell through Boysenberry’s grimness. “A dragon soul doesn’t make up for dozens of innocent lives,” he says, following up with a sigh. “Though the act itself was very impressive, and keeping more lives from being taken is more than most ponies can do.”

Then comes along a certain yellow earthwalker, one who I'm sure still harbors some sort of infernal demon that wants my head. "I'm actually quite ashamed I missed it," says Tangerine.

Immediately I leap to my hooves. Despite the good former general's reassurance of a truce, I still can't feel entirely safe around her. Plus, her new fur lined armor is far more intimidating than dress robes. I’m not entirely sure what to expect from her. Compliments aside, she’s sure to tear my exploits apart, calling me irresponsible and naive, list the ways I’ve gone wrong in life...

...or just approach, smile and give me a hug.

While waiting for our appointment with the jarl, Dragonrein takes refuge from the rain in Horsevaskr, gathered around the firepit. Wolf River, having not been introduced to me in the most pleasant manner, apologizes profusely for intervening in the struggle against Nahkriin several times. I eventually manage to fit a word in. “She fell in the end, so what does it matter?” Nice fellow, though.

Wolf River nearly loses his mead, but he restrains his tongue and swallows. “That thing was female? How in the name of Dragos-”

“Shhh!” Several of the Carriers shoot dirty looks at Wolf River and hiss.

"We're in the presence of Imperials!" the pegasus named Aerial hisses.

“I repent!” he says with his hoof in the air. He takes another drink, though clearly he’s tispy enough to forget that worship of Dragos is forbidden. “How do you know the dragon was female?”

“Trust me, she is, er, was,” I say. While I had first heard about Nahkriin’s identity from Otar, it was truly revealed to me upon her death, when I took her soul.

I tilt my head to the maid of the house, a sweet elderly earthwalker. “Excuse me, Ma’am. Me and my companions have traveled a long way, may we each have a round of mead?”

“I’m sorry, deary,” says the maid, “We serve those sworn in with the Carriers as well as our refugees, but I’m afraid you don’t qualify.”

“They do in my book,” says Tangerine, trotting by with a tray of mugs upon her back. “I may not be a full-fletched shield sibling but I am in line to be one, so I can do whatever the hell I want with my mead.”

The maid just shrugs and tends to other concerns.

With me, Shae, Tohro, Wolf River and Tangerine all together, we all raise our mugs for an unspoken toast and greedily drink, except for Shae, who only pretends to avoid another migraine filled evening.

I’d be able to enjoy the alcohol more if it weren’t for Tangerine’s uncharacteristically happy demeanor. None of the vengeful rage she carried before is to be found, along with any of her regal proper. “So tell me, Tangerine,” says Tohro, “have the Carriers put out a search for your missing stiff upper lip?”

The once noblemare chortles. “The Carrier Clan has little place for upper lips of stiff kind. I’ve left most of that behind to fight for what’s right instead of what is ordered of me.” She pauses mid-drink, looking aside and setting her mead down. “Yet ironically, soon I’ll be fighting alongside the Legion against the Blackwings once again.”

“So the Carriers will be fighting the oncoming invasion as well,” I say with a grin. “Good. The more pressure we can put on Shokenda, the better. I want to see her break.”

Tangerine moves from her seat next to Wolf River and approaches me. “I even more, but I doubt we will be able to kill her in this defensive battle. The most we can do is keep Trottingham safe.”

Once again, my desire to protect overthrows my hatred for Shokenda. I shake my head and take another swig. “Very well, but...” I draw one of my greatswords and show off its blade in the gleam of the firepit. “If that hag shows her face to me, I’ll skin it clean off.”

Tohro shudders and takes Shae aside. Though I give them a wave bye, Shae is the only one who reciprocates.

Wolf River nods with approval, beaming at my enthusiasm. Tangerine reclaims her seat with him and he rests his foreleg around her back. “Our odds of survival are relatively high, but it would be for the best to set them beyond.” He uses his other foreleg to point at me. “Dragonborn.” He nods to Tangerine. “M’lady.” She responds with a sultry gaze. “I must meet with Scar in the lower quarters. We have important matters to discuss.” Wolf River undoes his grasp on Tangerine and stands up, retreating to the basement stairs.

Perhaps it’s the alcohol, but the tender embrace between those two didn’t make me realize what they are for all of a minute. Then it hits me. I point back and forth between Wolf River, who is descending the steps, and Tangerine, who is flustered as can be. “You and him?”

“Indeed,” she says, nonchalant and proud as can be. She takes a victory drink, following up with a dissonant belch that would rival a minotaur’s. “He was my admirer whilst I served the Legion, and he saved my life. We have many reasons for our companionship.”

“Ah, then it’s no wonder you’re so happy. He finally removed whatever the Legion stuck down your throat.”

She may be more humble, but Tangerine still laughs like a baroness. “The happiest I’ve been in years, Dragonborn.” She adjusts her position on her seat, partially laying back while tracing the edge of her mug. “So, how fared Dragonrein’s journey to the city of golden bread and diamond toilets?”

“Everfree was,” I say through a snort, “actually somewhat pleasant. Platinum listened to my story and declared me innocent, and if that wasn’t enough to clear my name, Tohro and I slayed a frost dragon right out of the sky. The proof is a skeleton embedded in a church. Well, was. I was paid quite handsomely by the Legion for the bones.”

It only now occurs to me that when Tohro said he’d prove my innocence to the Imperial Legion, he really did follow through on his word by assisting in my slaying of Hevnodiin.

“Then your little club of dragon slayers became an official guild, did it?” asks Tangerine.

I do a double take. “Y-Yes. How did you know?”

The former general merely resumes her drinking and waves her free hoof past her shoulder, where something I should have been aware of makes itself known. Amidst all the conversation and hilarity, I had neglected to notice my favorite zebra bard and his musical mares singing of Dragonrein’s recent successes in synchronization to my words. “Divines dammit, Xephyr...”

“So the stallion in turquoise took a second beastly soul
defied laws of nature, surviving the fall.
The princess, the princess claim the guild as her savior,
and the queen granted title for their courageous en-day-vour!”

“They’ve been playing this song all day,” Tangerine says.

“Brilliant zebra.” I could just hug that spike-maned compulsive rhymer, but I won’t. This sort of music should not be interrupted. In addition to the soothing strumming of his lute, Symphony’s pipes add a layer of smooth, creamy atmosphere. Rhapsody’s slow and heavy drumming gives the song an epic pace, something truly befitting how I think of Dragonrein. We may not have been a guild that long but I know that we’ll be as strong as the Carrier Clan someday. Cudos to Xephyr; he finally has that audience he wanted, and it’s because of me and my guild.

A reminder of an old question comes to light. I lean in close to Tangerine. “Do you want to join Dragonrein?”

Her mug is almost empty. She swirls what remains before downing it happily. “You asked me that before you left for Everfree, didn’t you?” She sees me nod and drains the rest of the mead down. “If I were to join, what would we do? Tell me what I can expect from a guild helmed by the legendary Dragonborn.”

“Well, uh... We travel Equestria, slaying dragons...”

“Surprise.”

“We help those in need.”

“Good job so far.” She doesn't sound sincere.

I shoot a sneer at her. "What does that mean?”

She’s playing innocent, with a childlike expression and her hind legs crossed, relaxed on the table. “You don’t look to me like the hero type, that’s all.”

This breed of logic brings about ants in my mind. “Wha- How am I not a hero? How is Dragonrein not a guild of heroes?”

“Let us do a head count.” Tangerine taps her hooves together to punctuate her list. “A former Blackwing, a timid academic, and a sociopathic barbarian. Sounds like heroes to me.”

So her animosity towards me is gone, but she still sees fit to enrage me? I’m not about to pull my blade on her but I hope for her sake she doesn’t have this mouth around Shokenda. That hag would eat Tangerine alive. I narrow my gaze, gesturing to myself. “We have the Dragonborn.”

Tangerine folds her forelegs. “We have lycans.”

The music hasn’t fallen dead, but it truly feels that way. The whole of Horsevaskr takes a turn for the silent and slow as Tangerine’s green eyes widen. She looks over her shoulder to see a straight faced Wolf River. To his side is an elderly earthwalker with a black coat and greying blonde mane. His most interesting feature is the patch over his right eye. To say he’s disgruntled would be underselling it.

I raise my hoof. “Hi, Scar.”

Dammit, I forgot my mead.

Stone walls, smells of stallion musk and the unnerving feeling I’m to be groped at any moment. It feels as though I’m back in that Imperial cell again. Much like then, I’m being spoken to by a colt in heavy armor, asking me questions I’d rather not answer. The only difference? I actually like this colt.

Wolf River had told me Scar is a veteran of the settlement wars, and he went through more in his time than most. He saw the most battle, experienced the most death, and was lucky to have survived with with only, well, scars.

He comes across to me as a pacifist with a warrior’s face. Much like the rest of the Carriers, he’s intimidating until he starts talking.

“So, you are the one who hatched from a dragon’s egg?” he asks. His voice is as ancient as his body, but still clear and proud.

Wait, dragon’s egg? I never came from an egg, I know that much. “Uh, no,” I respond.

Scar looks disappointed. He relaxes into his chair with an amused sigh. “Of course not. Wolf River was just pulling my leg as per usual.” He tilts his head. “You are a descendant of the Precursors, though. So, what can I expect from you, should I allow Wolf River to take you on his quest?”

My eyes dart side to side, towards the handles of my blades. “I have swords.”

“We all have swords.” Scar nods to twin katanas crossed upon above his bed. I flinch, feeling cut merely by looking at those beasts. I mean, wow, there’s razor sharp, and then there’s that. What I wouldn’t give to get my teeth around those beauties. “Doesn’t mean I like using them. Ever tried spreading butter on toast with those things? Hardly worth the effort. Oh, and as for that-” the old colt imitates me doing a shout, “-voice of yours? It’s hardly refined.”

“How would you know? I’m the only pony who can do it.” Aside from Otar, of course, but he’s a Precursor, so he hardly counts as equine.

Scar rests his hoof on the bridge of his muzzle, giving another sigh. “Oh, you naive child. Do you think you’re the first Dragonborn? There have been several throughout the ages, many more valiant than you claim to be.”

I feel wounded, like Scar had taken both his katanas to my pride. Suddenly my burden feels all the heavier. I slouch in my seat, my swords hanging awkwardly at my side.

“Don’t get me wrong, boy, the title of Dragonborn is a rare one, and there’s never more than one in the world at a time. You should feel no less honored to have this gift. However, I am not honored to have you in this town.”

“Why?” I ask grimly, my brow furled.

“Ponies tend to die around you. Thankfully, that is also not a trait specific to you. When the title of Dragonborn is given to a pony with delusions of grandeur, they begin to think the laws of nature and society mean nothing. Take the previous Dragonborn, for instance. His name was Argent, a pegasus. I had the misfortune of meeting him as he gifted Jarl Drake the bones of his latest slay. I was one of the few left unimpressed by his efforts. I voiced my distaste for his pillaging of a small settlement, and he tried to kill me. Took my eye when he summoned a flurry of blades with his voice.”

It’s like those blades are stabbing my pride, leaving it to bleed out. “I... I-I've never heard of Argent.”

Scar stands up. “Because most ponies forgot. He was not worthy of history, and was stricken from our caring minds. We wanted to forget, and we did. Well, except for me. I chose to remember, in case the day came that another Dragonborn happened along with similar delusions.” He stares me down. “So, Caro Dragonborn, do you fancy yourself a hero?”

A few minutes ago, my answer would have been obvious, but now that I know I have Argent to my name, and that I could easily be forgotten by history... I let out a trembling gasp. “I don’t know, Scar.”

“Here, have a whiff of this.” I look up to some sort of hollow branch, lit at the end. Scar is presenting it to me. I graciously take it in my hoofs and, feeling incredibly awkward about it, put my lips around it and inhale.

Instantly my mind feels cleansed and relaxed. My confusion is still there but now I feel as though I can comprehend this revelation.

Scar pats me on the shoulder. “You are a dishonorable one, Dragonborn, but you don’t have to make Argent’s mistakes, and while I wish war would not follow in your wake, it is inevitable. That is why I ask this of you; go with Wolf River and Lady Tangerine as they reclaim the Carrier Clan’s sacred weapon, and perhaps you will learn some humility.”

I inhale from the hollow branch once again. “You... know a lot more than you let on, don’t you, Scar?”

All he does is hold out his forelegs to his sides, shrugging innocently.

~Vision End~

“Pardon me, pardon me…” Jarl Drake sidles between ranks of Imperial soldiers as she levitates a list of names over her head. “I must remember to accommodate for the arrival of an entire military’s worth of soldiers next time I request aid. I’m grateful to Dragonrein, of course, but this is ridiculous.” She manages to reach her throne, grabs her inked quill and checks off the last name on the list. An entire set of names and ranks for the army she’s given and only now does she complete it, if only because there’s too damn many soldiers. Oh, why am I complaining? she thinks. This is wonderful!

Finally able to set the list aside, Drake stretches out her hindquarters before retreating to the one silent room in Equinesreach, Boysenberry’s study. She doesn’t expect the room’s occupant to actually be there, alongside Shae and Tohro, all leaning over a table, examining a dragon’s egg.

The court wizard is bouncing about excitedly, for once actually acting like a child. “I collected this beauty on a nightly trek through the Mount Everfree pass. I don’t know where it came from, but how could I resist? This could allow us to uncover critical weaknesses in a dragon’s body, allowing for swifter defeat.”

Jarl Drake points accusingly to Shae and Tohro, who look at her bewildered. “What are you both doing here?”

Tohro shrugs and tosses a bent lockpick onto the table. “We came in through the back door. You were taking too long.”

“Let me see that.” Boysenberry’s purple aura envelops the lockpick and brings it to the egg. He scrapes the shell carefully, only to have the pick snap in half, leaving the shell completely undamaged.

"Excuse me!" Tohro shouts.

“Didn’t think that would work, but it was worth a try.”

Shae passes her horn over the egg. “I’m sensing some passive magical seals on the shell. They must be what keeps it indestructible.”

“Dragon moms can cast magic from their cooch?” Tohro snickers, receiving a magic smack across the face from both Shae and Boysenberry.

“If we’re going to break into this egg, we’ll have to dispel those seals,” says Shae.

Jarl Drake silently counts heads. She’s rather under the influence of grape juice, and as such it takes a moment for her to realize there’s a turquoise earthwalker missing from the roster. “Wait a moment, where is Caro?”

“Off with Tangerine and Wolf River,” says Tohro. “They mentioned something about a weapon called... mew-mew, or otherwise.”

“Mew-mew?”

All four of them pass confused looks amongst each other before resuming their examining of the egg. Boysenberry beckons for Tohro to pass him a wing blade (“How many of those things do you have?” Shae asks). He draws the blade across the shell like the lockpick, only leaving it dull and useless. Tohro begrudgingly inserts the blade back into his wings.

“Do inform me of when Caro returns, yes?” Jarl Drake turns on her hoof and exits the chamber, only to come face to face with a young colt with a letter bag. “Oh, hello.”

The colt salutes and clumsily retrieves a scrap of parchment from the bag. He scans it quickly and says, “I have a note for Shae Sparkle. I was told I could find her here?”

Drake nods her head in Shae’s direction and continues on her merry way.

The courier quickly trots up to the unicorn and slams the parchment into her hooves before she has time to react. He clumsily bows and waddles away.

The note is torn at the edges, obviously written by somepony with little to no knowledge of basic diction, something Shae prides herself upon. If Sundance were to so much as leave out a comma in her research papers, Shae would snatch the quill away and shame her. Who is responsible for this madness? she asks herself. She then catches sight of a barely legible signature that sends her face into a mad fit of red.

Tohro peeks over her shoulder and snatches the paper. He ignores Shae’s protests as he reads the scribbled excuses for words.

deer shay go to the blaksmif shop i hav somthen for yo

“Who wrote this? And what the hell is a blaksmif?” As Shae makes a dive for the letter, Tohro leaps away and flies to the ceiling, laughing triumphantly. He looks over the horrendously misspelled words again and reads the signature.

frum rosemary

His laughter stops. “Rosemary? Well, I suppose we don’t all have the luxury of a first rate education at a pristine academy.” He descends to the floor and graciously passes the paper back to Shae. “Sounds like you have a friend in high places.”

The blushing unicorn hides her cheeks from view as she levitates the scrap into her pockets. With an adjustment of her glasses, she begins to depart.

Tohro flies to her side, flexing one of his forelegs. “Need a guardian?”

“I’m sure I can handle myself, Tohro. Thank you, though.”

~Shae~

I’ve already decided I’m nopony’s damsel in distress. As much as I appreciate the gestures of protection from Caro and Tohro, I’ll hardly need their assistance forever. I’ve already killed a battalion of gryphons, several draugr, survived two dragon attacks and scrapped with depraved bandits, and those were all on my own merits. I can handle a nightly stroll through Trottingham to meet up with Rosemary.

Last I saw of her, she was on her way back to Tangerine’s villa, though not by will of her own. No doubt Tangerine would be furious that her daughter had escaped captivity... Bloody hell, I make it sound like a prison.

With a trot past the inn and a few residential cottages, I’m at the Glasswork Forge, what’s left of it anyway, given that part of the wall and ceiling are missing. I remember that fondly. When the dragon fell from the sky, my shield was barely enough to protect both me and Rosemary. For a moment, I actually thought I was going to die. But still, here I am, having dealt with several more moments like that.

“Is Tangerine with you?” A deep, tomboyish voice sounds out from the shadows. I see Rosemary’s silhouette against the edge of the forge.

"Um..." I glance around. "No, why?"

"Good. Now she won't rail me for doing this." Rosemary leaps out of the shadows. There's a thud, a rush of air and I land on my side in a hay bale before I realize she’s just rammed me. It didn’t hurt, it just caught me by surprise, making me join Rosemary in loud laughter. I’m finally able to get a good look at her. She wears a long duster coat and fedora, like before, making her seem even bulkier than she already is.

“That's how we do it back at the plantation!" My mane cries out in agony as her yellow hoof runs through it rapidly.

I jerk away from the sudden pain and try to lay my mane flat again as I rise up. "Rosemary? What’s going on?"

"Nothin'! I'm just happy to see ya!" Before I can have one moment to myself, I'm pulled into a bone crunching hug.

“Feeling’s... mutual... can’t... breathe...."

“Oh, sorry.” I let out a hefty gasp for air as Rosemary relinquishes her grip. She still keeps her hooves on my withers, though, continuing her tradition of ignoring personal space. Still, she’s a welcome sight, bringing about a lot of positivity and energy despite the aura of war in this town. “I can hardly breathe too, Shae,” she says. “I galloped here all the way from the villa.”

"What for? What happened? Why are we whispering?" So many more questions flood my mind, particularly ones involving the fact that her mussed up red mane and black heavy eyes make it look as though she needs some sleep. “Are you okay?”

“Better than okay,” Rosemary says with a grin. She taps me on the cheek. “I’m here because I needed to get a good look at’cha before I head off to...” She looks glum for just a moment. “It doesn’t matter.”

“You came all this way just to see me? I’m flattered.” I sheepishly twiddle the curls of my mane.

Rosemary trots past me to the gaping entrance of the forge, resting her hooves on the remains of the wall. “I’m sorry to say, that’s not all I’m here for. I need a weapon somethin' awful and I was wonderin’ if you could lend me a helping hoof.”

“You’re going to steal from Glasswork?” Oh dear, and I’m an accessory.

She glares at me with a smirk. “Hephaestus, no. Who do you think I am?” She pulls a small pouch of bits from her coat and jingles it next to her ear. “I plan on rebursin’ her.”

“Reimbursing,” I correct her.

“Gesundheit.” She hops into the gaping hole of the weapon shop. I hear the telltale sounds of metal clashing and many obviously sharp objects falling to the floor. "Aha! Ebony! Glasswork, you are a miracle worker."

What have I gotten myself into?

~Vision End~

Trottingham is still visible in the distance, despite the altitude and heavy rainfall. It serves as a beacon of sorts as Caro, Tangerine and Wolf River trek into the mountainside woods.

“I know Scar is difficult to work with,” says Wolf River to Caro as he pulls him up over a ledge. “His soliloquy tends to dominate all conversations, doesn’t it?”

“He thinks he knows me a monster. I am anything but,” says the Dragonborn, trying to convince himself more than any other.

Tangerine is in the lead, waving her torch down the trail. “Yes, we know...” She looks back at Caro, who trudges along as the slowest of the group. None of the reckless abandon she expects from him is to be found. She turns to him and nudges his wither. “Scar is always the type to make you think about your actions, and while that is a noble trait, perhaps it’s for the best you save it for another time.”

“No moral questions to be had here,” says Wolf River. “The Silver Horseshoe don’t deserve a withholding of your blade.”

Caro groans and draws his broadsword, giving it a practice swing and cutting some grass in the process. “Ugh, different viewpoints pulling at my legs. I’m finding it harder to care by the moment. All that matters to me is finding this mew-face weapon.”

He’s stopped by Wolf River, who gruffly says, “Mjolnir. Mee-yol-ner. It’s a weapon forged by Hephaestus himself. It alone can tame armies and move mountains.”

And the Silver Horseshoe just waltzed into Horsevasker and took it? Caro thinks. He stops his trotting and sheaths his weapon as a peculiar sight comes into view. “Who commissioned an entire statue of Epona?”

A stone visage of the widely worshipped mother of ponykind stands tall among the trees, though its brilliance is mitigated by unfortunate design. What should be a brilliant crimson coat accompanied with a mane of white is a filthy, mossy grey, riddled with cracks. Her horn and wings are crumbling at the edges.

“Damn zealots can’t even be bothered to capture Epona’s majesty.” Caro bows out of regret for the insulting sight. “Somepony should put this abomination out of its misery.”

“How dare you!”

Standing at the base of the statue is a heavily robed old colt. Caro and Wolf River both narrow their gaze at him, as they’re both struck with a sense of familiarity. They both recall where they’ve seen him before at the same time.

Caro points at the hooded colt. “You’re the zealot who spoke well of the dragons’ arrival."

"Preacher? What brings you to Silver Horseshoe territory?” Wolf River asks.

The preacher is just as wide eyed and obnoxiously dramatic as he was before. “I have seen the light, my friends! I bring good tidings to these worshippers of Epona. We share a common ideal, you see. The children of Dragos come to purify Equestria of ne'er-do-wells and non-believers, you see. The Silver Horseshoe also have a hefty belief in purity. If I were to perhaps convert them, or at least merge our worship, we could go to Dragos together and be forever embraced against her nurturing bosom!”

“Like a sheepdog chasing a carriage,” says Caro as he spits at the preacher’s hooves. “What will happen when you find that bosom?”

The preacher has a suggestive smirk on his face, one that wouldn’t belong to any sane religious figure. “We’ll return to this world as dragons, so we may bring about the divine will of Dragos.”

Caro shares a glance with Wolf River and Tangerine, who are both beckoning for him to leave the preacher be, but Caro grits his teeth and licks his lips with his forked tongue. He reaches for his sword.

"You're in the way, Preacher."

~Shae~

I must remember to never stick my muzzle in the steam of a forge ever again. It’s far less comfortable than a sauna.

Nevertheless, it’s worth it to see Rosemary’s efforts come to fruition in the form of a curved ebony falchion, ribbed at the tip for a very dangerous appearance. I don’t even want to get near it for fear of losing something important.

“Fantastic,” says Rosemary, taking the words right from my mouth. She passes me a file, which I levitate to scratch off any anomalies that interfere with the smoothness of the blade. Thankfully, it’s so well made that I hardly have to make any corrections. I hoof it back to her.

Rosemary takes a warrior’s pose, as if she’s about to land a decisive blow on an invisible enemy. "I should model for the painters of Warriors of the Dynasty Annual,” she says. “Does your academy get those books?"

"Not officially, but when one of your friends is a master of invisibility and the other a history buff, certain items tend to fall into your lap.” I feel for my pouch, regretting that I didn’t bring along the latest print of Warriors. Then again, what I expected from my trek didn’t warrant a reason to have it.

Rosemary’s tough exterior gives way to the smile only a devoted follower could have. "You read it too! Did you see the portrait of Dewheart the Daring?”

“Only pegasus in this year's volume, how could I forget? She wielded bladed greaves like no other.” I also recall her having the legs of a champion. They went on forever...

“Yes, she’s wonderful, but no matter the volume, I'm more fond of the mages. Those are the true artists."

Magic, to a mage like me, has become a somewhat mundane tool in my life, so I often forget how amazing it seems to more sheltered individuals, like Rosemary.

“See, Shae, for somepony who’s been sheltered in a villa founded, owned and occupied purely by earthwalkers since the early days of Equestria, meetin’ you has been the highlight of, well...” She ponders that thought for a moment. “...Yeah, my entire life. I’ve only been friends with one other unicorn, but he didn’t have the same spirit of adventure and magic like you do. That relationship didn’t last long, let me tell ya. I’d rather spend time with adventurous types like you.”

I’m so humbled by her, I can only play with my mane and hide my blush behind my glasses. “You flatter me. I’m hardly an adventurer...”

“Shae.” Rosemary’s hoof graces my cheek and I find myself face to face with her. She looks serious, then she smiles again. “Take the damn compliment.”

I chuckle nervously. “Uh, okay.”

We both relax on the same seat I occupied during my illness, a kind reminder of how we first met. As we examine our new blade, Rosemary’s expression turns from euphoric to somewhat grim.

“Is something the matter?” I ask.

She whispers something only just audible. “Missin'...”

I nudge her. “Huh? Didn’t quite catch that.”

She suddenly holds the blade outward, causing me to lean back in caution. “It’s missin' something. It needs...” She stands up and takes a practice swing, nearly taking out one of the few intact pillars holding the shop together. “Fire! Yeah, that’s it!”

“Fire?”

Rosemary takes another swing, this one vertically, taking a chunk out of the wooden floor. “Ironhaunch, he was on the front page of last year’s Warriors of the Dynasty. He was a unicorn that specialized in incendiary magic, and he had a sword that caught on fire whenever he unsheathed it!” Now I’m staring at the tip of the blade as Rosemary hoofs it over to me. “Don’tcha have some sort of enchantment that can light this thing up like a Hearth’s Warming festival?”

I twiddle my hooves together, then reluctantly take the sword. It’s a lot heavier than it looks, and my frail body struggles under the weight. “Well, ah...” I carefully set it on the workbench. “I have experimented with augmentation in the past, but never on something this large.”

“I’m sure whatever you come up with will be fine, love.”

“Love...” It’s like everything she says casts my face ablaze. Why does she even need me to enchant her sword? All she needs is to sweet talk it.

Regardless, her palsy-walsy behavior warms my heart, and I can feel my magical reserves bolstering from my emotional peak. What would normally cause me a fit of exhaustion becomes as easy as levitating a quill as my horn ignites with white flames, which I cast upon the falchion. I don’t even break a sweat.

Rosemary leaps for joy and takes her blade back, sheathing it as she takes another dramatic pose. “Absolutely wonderful, as per usual!”

Rosemary had looked like quite the hero beforehoof with that falchion. Now, with the blade bathed in fire, she looks like a bloody warlord, ready to tear through an entire army and be home in time for supper… Well, that would be the case if she actually wanted to go home.

She drops her battle-ready stance as I nudge her with my aura. “I don’t mean to prod, but why is it that you needed a new weapon?”

Her gaze goes blank, as if she’s looking a hundred miles away. She doesn’t answer me.

I nudge her again, this time with my hoof. That gets her attention. “You’re one of us, Rosemary. Whatever it is you’re facing, I’m sure Caro and Tohro would be willing to help.”

“I…” Rosemary stretches out her foreleg and pulls me into another embrace, this one much less painful than before. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

“Why?”

“This is just somethin' I have to do by myself. I really, really appreciate the thought, though.” She breaks the hug before I’m ready, leaving me on my hind legs.

“Please, Rosemary. You can tell me anything.”

She shakes her head furiously before stomping away, facing the stone wall. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

Now she has the face of somepony deranged, completely dissonant to what I’ve come to know her as. “Mum will punish me if I tell anypony!”

The silence of the night is broken by the echo of her yelling. This is the first time she’s come across as anything less than sprightly to me, dragon’s falling notwithstanding, and I don’t think I like it at all. For the longest time, we just stare at eachother, me with a look of concern, and her with one of pale fear. What is she so afraid of?

Eventually though, she melds back into her chipper old self, trotting about happily as she takes a small pouch of bits from her pouch and sets it on the shop’s workbench. She then approaches me and resumes the embrace. “Listen, I’ve taken enough of your time as it is. Just let me take care of this myself.”

I want to protest. The little time I spent alone in these lands was harsh, lonely and terrifying, but then again, I am just a schoolmare. Rosemary seems more the type to weather these lands. As such, I swallow my concerns and say, “Okay, I trust you to know what you’re doing.”

"I trust ya too, and that's why I know you'll make good use of these." She slips a large package under my chin, which I levitate to my eyes to read the garbled inscription.

for shay toro and cero frum rosemary

“Wow, your...” I lower the package and look straight at Rosemary, “...diction. It’s atrocious.” We have a mutual chortle as I unbind the package and remove the wrapping.

Contained within is a gauntlet of sorts, with a strange contraption on the underside (“That’s a hidden blade for Tohro. He’ll be able to take a foe out without anypony noticing.”), a notched dagger (“That’s Caro’s. Sometimes the situation calls for a lighter weapon, right?”), and an illuminated ring with a ruby encrusted in the center. It’s a hornlet.

“This is for me?”

Rosemary nods and takes the ring from my hooves. She gently slips it onto my horn, my face flushing once again as she graces the tip. “This will increase your offensive magic’s potential by a fifth, I think.”

I’m gaping at such a generous gift. I feel the need to touch my new hornlet just to ensure it’s real before looking to Caro and Tohro’s new weapons. “You made all of this yourself?”

“I made the blades at the villa’s forge, along with the ring.” Rosemary presses her hoof against mine on the ring. “The gemstone, however, wasn’t easy to nab, especially under the supervision of the villa’s guards, but I managed to sneak out and buy it from a caravan of zebras. Hefty price, but it’s worth it to see you smile.”

It’s my turn to throw my forelegs around Rosemary, catching her by surprise and sending her off balance. We fall to the ground together, laughing all the while. Thats when I notice that she’s awfully close. I can feel her warm breath on my snout. I shake my head, clearing any stray thoughts trying to creep into my tired mind.

That’s when I have an idea. It’s unorthodox, but it’s the only way I know to repay her for her generosity. “Rosemary, when I go back to Wintercolt to give my presentation, would you like to come with me?”

Rosemary’s eyes widen and her open-mouthed smile nearly consumes her entire muzzle. “You’d really do that for me?!” she shrieks, tightening her grip on me.

“Of course... can’t breathe... again...”

“Oh, sorry...”

We both jump to our hooves and leave the remains of the shop, back out onto the empty street. All the lamps have gone out by this time, and the sun is beginning to creep over the horizon.

“I’d best skedaddle,” says Rosemary as she throws the rest of her pack over her back and secures her new sword. “But I’ll see you real soon, yes?”

“I sure hope s-”

My words are cut short by a blinding flash of light that leaves me stumbling about sightless, if only for a moment. There’s a throbbing pain through my face as I accidentally ram into a wall. I keep blinking out the white and the pain as fast as I can. By the time I’m able to see again, I’m met with a very unwelcome sight.

Shokenda Blackwing, with her ursa fur cloak trailing in the wind, stands tall atop the Trottingham gates. Corpses of guards lay bleeding beneath her.

More than anything, I want to gallop as fast as equinely possible back to Equinesreach, screaming and hollering for Jarl Drake, but Shokenda’s perpetual emotionless gaze cements my hooves to the ground. I want to be brave and not play the role of the distressed damsel, but I just...

I’m scared.

“I will only ask this of you the once,” says Shokenda, her proud voice betraying her blank visage. “Where is the Dragonborn?”

~Vision End~

With his swords cast aside, one embedded in a tree and the other clattering to the ground far away, Caro is caught flat-hooved against a unicorn with electrified knifes floating at her side.

Teeth clenched and growling, Caro rips one of the knives from his wither and charges forth, sidestepping a lightning strike and throwing the knife at the mage. The mage erects a ward, deflecting the knife. This brings a smirk to Caro’s face. Got you.

He leaps into the air and shouts “WULD NAH KEST!” A rush of air ruffles his coat and mane as he covers several feet in an instant, putting him a breath’s width from the mage. He plants one hoof on the ground, swings his entire body around and slams his hind legs into the barrier, causing it to crack. The mage flinches at the same time.

“Damn it!”

Caro hears a snarl coming from behind. He wheels around to see Wolf River, still in his beast form. He has one of Caro’s greatswords in claw.

“Give it here!” Caro beckons. Wolf River gives another snarl and tosses it. Caro catches it by the hilt, makes a diagonal swing and cuts the ward clean in two, knocking the mage prone. Caro swings the sword once over his head and brings it forward. He pierces the mage’s robes and shoves the blade through her chest. She chokes out what sounds like a distorted prayer to Epona before her eyes roll into the back of her head.

Caro uses his free hoof to remove the corpse from his sword. He doesn’t even bother cleaning the blood off, indifferently sheathing his weapon and turning to the beast behind him.

“So... Lycans, huh? And here I thought Tangerine was being facetious.”

Wolf River tilts his head, conveying confusion in the best way a wolf can.

“I’m amazed Trottingham is so saccharine, given that they’ve got a couple of beasties looming over their heads.” He pauses, noticing the remains of several Silver Horseshoe behind him, their blood and entrails staining the trees and the statue of Epona. Caro nods. “Ah, or is it that you act as guardians to them and your kind’s existence is an open secret? In that case, they have every reason to stay calm, at least until an entire rebellion comes a-knocking at their doorstep.”

The wolf shrugs before returning the nod. He then looks to Tangerine with an aura of disappointment. The yellow earthwalker sighs and gives Wolf River’s mane an affectionate stroke, softly pressing her muzzle against his.

“I’m not going to beat around the bush, love,” she says, “I’m sorry my lips were loose. If I’m to be a Carrier, I promise to keep the secret closer to my heart.” She plants a light kiss on the wolf’s wet rose. “And you as well.” Tangerine then approaches Caro, wearing her signature sternness, though it’s less vicious than before. “As for you...”

Caro draws his hoof across his mouth. “I’ll smith a key for the chest in which I’ll lock the Carriers’ secret away.” To him, it’s not overtly personal or threatening, so keeping such a thing under wraps can’t be difficult. “Although, I think the rest of my guild has the right to know.”

Tangerine cocks her brow before glancing at Wolf River. He strains his mouth to growl out a sound that resembles the word “Fine.”

“Fine,” says Tangerine. “We both agree to be more conservative with our secrets.”

Caro is still having difficulty comprehending how agreeable Tangerine has become in his absence, keeping her calm and leaving her talk of honor to a minimum. It’s disconcerting, but by no means unwelcome.

As for Wolf River, well, considering the fantastical things Caro has witnessed, a pony transforming into a beast seems tame by comparison. To him, Discord is far more concerning than an overgrown wolf.

That wolf takes the lead, ascending a moss coated staircase that twists around a formation of rocks. Caro and Tangerine follow side by side, with the latter keeping her swords at the ready for any Silver Horseshoe keen on sneaking in for an attack.

Wolf River turns the corner with his claws sharpened and ready for the kill, only to find an unexpected sight. Silver Tongue, clad in steel armor over his ornate robes, sits cross legged over a stone slab, sipping a cup of tea.

Upon that slab lies what appears to be an exotically crafted sledgehammer of large size. Upon closer inspection, one can see sparks of lightning emanating from the head.

“So that’s Mjolnir,” says Caro with awe, feigning ignorance to the stallion guarding it. “Color me impressed, that thing looks like it could take somepony’s jaw out.”

“You have good taste in weapons.” Silver Tongue takes one last large sip of tea before casting the cup aside on the slab. He runs his hoof carefully over the hammer’s shaft. “The legends say it was crafted by Hephaestus himself, wielded by an ancient hero with command over lightning. Granted, any unicorn can cast lightning from their horn, given practice, but this would grant that power to anyone.”

The hooded unicorn clutches Mjolnir in both hooves, hops upright onto his hind legs and points the head at the trio. A fizzle of electric light flashes from it. “So, which of you wishes to endure Epona’s divinity first? Or shall I pick for you?”

Caro advances forth. Tangerine reaches out in protest, but the Dragonborn doesn’t pay her any mind. He needs blood, and he needs it fierce. “I fen krif pal,” he boasts, standing on his hind legs with his swords drawn in each forehoof.

Silver Tongue clicks sarcastically. “Oh, you poor soul.”

Caro can barely move a muscle before Silver Tongue disappears from his perch and reappears behind the stone slab. He strikes Mjolnir upon the ground, leaving an enormous crater in the rock formation and sending the slab through the air. Caro holds up his swords to block it but he’s easily overpowered, tumbling into Tangerine. They’re halted by Wolf River with his large frame. The lycan leaps forward, crushing the slab and running on all fours to Silver Tongue.

The Silver Horseshoe’s leader is levitating, still keeping a firm grip on Mjolnir. He swings at Wolf River, who ducks, then sidesteps another round. Wolf River thrusts his claws at Silver Tongue, only to be blocked and forced away by the hammer’s shaft. Silver Tongue casts a bolt of lightning from the head, striking Wolf River in the chest and leaving a garish burn. This only serves to enrage the lycan further as he bellows, making rapid lashes. After making several effortless floating dodges, Silver Tongue slips up and loses shreds of his robes. Wolf River seizes him and gnaws on his left pauldron, tearing it off and leaving his shoulder bloodied.

Silver Tongue disappears again. “You cocky mongrel!” He comes from behind and roundhouse bucks Wolf River in the head, followed by a nasty blow to the jaw by Mjolnir. Wolf River howls in pain, stumbling forward and colliding his snout into stone. He reels his head around and roars before yelping and clutching his mouth. His jaw is dislocated.

“Epona’s will brings you pain. Now bow to me like the dog that you are.” A constant stream of lightning travels forth from the hammer and envelops Wolf River, binding his arms to his sides and bringing him to his hindquarters. He continues to pine, though his face is one of fierce defiance. Silver Horseshoe intensifies the spell. “Bow to your master!”

“NEVER!” Wolf River snarls.

Tangerine mentally berates herself for standing aside while her coltfriend suffers. What the fuck am I doing?! she thinks as she draws her bronze and onyx blades. She runs in front of Caro and turns her head to him. “Work your magic, Dragonborn!”

Were the circumstances less dire, Caro would insult her for only just now relying on the Thu’um, but he keeps it to himself and clears his throat. “FUS RO!”

Tangerine flies, orienting herself with her swords pointed forward. She steers herself into Silver Tongue, piercing his armor with the tips of her blades and tearing a crack in his defenses, as well as breaking his levitation field.

Caro follows up with a buck to Silver Tongue’s front, impaling him further on Tangerine’s blades, but he continues to strain against them. His horn comes alight as he teleports away, though he drops Mjolnir in the process. It falls into Caro’s hooves.

Along with that, several drops of warm blood splash onto Caro’s muzzle. The fresh metallic scent flows deep into his nostrils. His draconic pupils shrink, and every thought in his mind turns to violence. Just as before, when he took the preacher’s life, he drags his forked tongue across his lips.

“Mine.”

Clutching Mjolnir tight, he leaps from the rock formation and gallops to the injured Silver Tongue, who draws labored breaths as he hobbles along. His trail of blood is long and plentiful. Caro runs through it, allowing the crimson liquid to stain his coat. It brings a cathartic smile to his face.

“YUL TOOR!” A stream of fire travels past Silver Tongue, singing his cloak in black. The path before him erupts in flames, blocking his escape and prompting him to curse aloud.

He turns to the charging earthwalker and shrieks “You incompetent whore!”

Caro responds with a roar as he brings Mjolnir down and shatters the dirt, sending a pillar of lighting into Silver Tongue’s path. The old colt rolls out of the way and casts a non-elemental spray of magic. It hinders Caro’s running, but only just. He swings at Silver Tongue with an uppercut.

Silver Tongue rolls again, this time in a curve around Caro, and seizes the Dragonborn in a foreleg lock. He casts a rope from his horn that ensnares Caro by the neck. Mjolnir is dropped once again.

As the robe’s grip tightens around him, with Tangerine and Wolf River charging as fast as possible to his aid, Caro shakes and kicks vigorously, only to get struck on the small of his back, sending a numbing throb throughout his barrel. “I know what you are,” says Silver Tongue. “You, the dog and that mare have all sold your flesh to the dark arts for power! You are no longer worthy of calling yourselves children of Epona. What makes you think you even deserve to exist?”

Caro struggles to turn his head, just to hiss at the cackling colt like a snake, revealing sharp fangs.

Silver Tongue’s grip lessens as he notices the fangs, gasping in surprise. “What in the-”

Caro bites down on the rope and tears it apart, then slams his head into Silver Tongue’s muzzle. He then leaps away, still clutching the rope in his mouth. He pulls, dragging Silver Tongue by the horn as he grabs ahold of Mjolnir in one hoof and brings the head into the flailing old colt’s chest. A grotesque and satisfying crack echoes through the trees.

Silver Tongue is airborne for a moment before his broken body collides with the ground. Caro slowly approaches him and points the hammerhead against his neck. Silver Tongue only laughs, punctuated by painful coughs.

“You’ve only served to prove my point, Dragonborn.”

“That so?” Caro says with sarcasm.

Silver Tongue draws a shaking hoof to point behind Caro. “Take a look over there.”

Still keeping Mjolnir firmly against the broken colt, Caro turns to see the corpse of the preacher, still bleeding after receiving a nasty impalement on two broadswords.

Caro nickers and turns back to Silver Tongue. “He was in the way. He would have alerted you to our presence had I allowed him to continue. Besides, he was a zealot like you. The world is better off without him.”

Silver Tongue continues to spit out punctured cackles. “I pelted the impure for Epona’s love. That is what I believed in. I had a genuine reason for slaughter.” He glares at the Dragonborn with red eyes. “What do you believe in? Look upon that preacher’s corpse, and tell me he died for a reason other than for the sake of your own convenience.”

That’s enough to stop Caro’s train of thought. He was very near to bringing Mjolnir down on Silver Tongue and finishing him in a bloody heap, but now his mind is filled with doubt.

Did I need to kill him? I could have knocked him out. I could have told him to leave. Would he have listened? Would he have tried to kill me later for that? What could I have done differently? What if-

Caro is brought back to the present as he gets a face full of disapproving Tangerine, something he had hoped never to see again. She seizes Mjolnir from Caro, and with one fell swing, brings it down on Silver Tongue’s head.

~Caro~

The rain is as disorderly and scattered as my thoughts. It may be able to wash away the blood of Preacher’s corpse but it certainly won’t wipe my confusion. Silver Tongue is little more than a bludgeoned head attached to a pile of robes and armor at this point, yet his words still echo in my mind. Why did I kill the preacher? Would it have made any difference if I had let him live?

“Ahem.” Wolf River nudges me, having reverted back into a pony. How he’s able to keep his armor after his transformation, I have no idea, and before I can even ask, the large fellow pulls me into a deathly hug.

I hear Tangerine trying to stifle a snicker. “Sorry. He does that,” she says.

By the time Wolf River lets me be, I’ve run out of breath, and I’ve been distracted from my stray thoughts. Even then, it seems to be for the best that I let Silver Horseshoe’s words go to waste. Based on Wolf River’s past experiences with him, he was nothing more than a pretentious elderly fellow far beyond the line of senility. Who was he to question my morality?

Wolf River gives a few broad swings of his hammer, each one letting off a spark of lightning. He then holsters it, alongside his war axe. “The prize has been claimed. Mjolnir is back with the Carrier Clan where it belongs- Ah.” He feels for his jaw. Despite his taking a fair few healing potions, his jaw has yet to heal.

“Hephaestus be praised,” I say with my hooves in the air. “Are you sure that hammer will be so valuable in the oncoming battle?”

“You saw what it’s capable of,” says Wolf River, “and even Silver Tongue knew its power. A Hephaestus crafted weapon is always the trump card.”

Tangerine is stretching out her limbs, not all that worse for wear beyond a few bruises and scrapes. She approaches Wolf River and embraces him tenderly, while also getting a good look at Mjolnir. “We can only hope.”

I would be celebrating this victory, but my damn ears keep twitching. I attack them with my hooves to keep them steady, but they protest. I walk past the statue of Epona, facing the trail leading down into the fields before Trottingham. I expect everything to be as quiet and saccharine as it was when I left.

Since when is anything as I expect it?

The sound of cannon fire makes my ears twitch again. I can hear the distant shouting of soldiers locked in conflict, blades colliding, blood being spilt, magic igniting.

The invasion of Trottingham has begun.

“Divines dammit!” I yell, bucking the closest tree and leaving a deep gash in its bark. I turn back to Wolf River and Tangerine. I hold out my hoof in emphasis. “Some trump card! The Blackwings are already here and we’ve just been wasting time slaughtering cultists for a single magical weapon! It wouldn’t even make a difference at this point!”

“The battle is only in its infancy,” says Wolf River, coolly passing me by. “Shokenda has yet to gain any upper hoof. Let us regroup with the other Carriers.”

“I second that.” Tangerine follows closely behind Wolf River, leaving me breathing in a fit of rage.

I warned you so, says my mental voice of Scar. That’s probably what he would tell me if he were here. You claim to be a hero, yet all you’ve done is slaughter for a weapon. How redundant a task, and what if it all amounts to nothing in the end?

I will myself back into reality with my hoof across my face. “Shut up.”

Time to go to war, casting myself into danger for the second time today in the hopes of keeping Trottingham safe. Despite not having occupied the town for very long, it’s still been more welcoming and humble than any place along this journey. I’ll die before I see Shokenda take it for her own. No, wait, scratch that last. She’ll die.

Unfortunately, that resolve is challenged when I take a few steps forward, only to be thrown backwards from the impact of a lanky green dragon touching down before me.

I’ve gone from confused to determined in a manner of seconds, and now...

“Il meyz ko faal naam do auk drog Saviikaan. Fen yor krif mil, Dovahkiin?”

Of course he wants to fight me. What do dragons contribute to this world other than death and destruction? Master Hammerfell can vouch for that. After facing two of these beasts beforehoof, a third of such scrawny stature is hardly intimidating. He’s not a monster, only a nuisance.

Why do I need to question my role in this world? I know who I am. I’m the damn Dragonborn. I know what I live for.

“You’ve caught me in a truly foul mood, Dovah! I care not for Saviikaan’s desires! He means nothing to me! He’s little more than another corpse who has lived beyond his day of reckoning! I know he’s your master. I know he sends your kind to me for my death, but he fails to understand; you are nothing but insects in the face of my power!”

I lean back onto my hind legs. I have no weapon in my teeth nor hooves, and honestly, I don’t care. I’ve stopped caring for a while now. I hold my forelegs out, fully welcoming the dragon’s attack. It will be his last.

“COME ON, DOVAH! MAKE THE FIRST MOVE! DIG IN! IT WON’T MAKE A DIFFERENCE!!”