~Rosemary~

She can sleep so peacefully… This is the one time that I’ll admit I envy her. Her bed is a comfortable one, and she has a grand portrait of my daddy to watch over her.

Lady Tangerine. Former general of the Imperial Legion. Successor to her husband, Oregano Von Spice. Owner of a expansive villa, a massive family fortune, and, as of her husband’s unfortunate death, an impressive library of weapons. She is currently a mother to two beautiful young ones; a boy and a girl. Nutmeg and Cinnamon.

There’s also her other daughter, Rosemary, but that’s not really important in comparison to everything else she’s done. Like run off with a lycan from a family of roughnecks, get engaged, traipse about Equestria while a war escalates behind her back, and become a lycan herself.

My forelegs are crossed as I sit in my daddy’s old thinking chair, overlooking the mare who gave birth to me. She looks worlds different with a black coat, but it’s not as though I would’ve recognized her anyway. Her mane is disheveled, no longer tied up all prim and proper like it always was. Her complexion is far dirtier, one of a pony who has embraced their wild side. Most alienating of all, though, is her smile. So blissful and carefree… since when does she emote so liberally?

Looking at that smile for so long makes my thin wire of tolerance snap. “Wake up,” I say.

She finally stirs. Her eyes flutter open. I can still see red in them, left over from her lycan form. "Hello, Rose..." she whispers, in an alarmingly sanguine tone. “Some dream… I remember rain… And a dragon, of all things.”

"You tried to kill me,” I blurt out, leaning forward.

Her eyes dart around the room. "...Uh?"

"You became a lycan, tracked me down, and tried to kill me."

She sits up, her mouth agape. "...I did?” She holds her hooves to her head, her teeth clenched as she tries to think. I deeply enjoy her face of shock when she sees her black coat and remembers. “...I did… Oh, Divines, Rosemary... You know I'd never—”

"I know,” I interrupt. Even I don’t think that low of her. “But it's hard to forget the feelin’ when a lycan's claws are inches away from your body, so you’d understand why I’m apprehensive to thank you for not killin’ me. Drank Wolf River’s blood, didja?"

"N-no. It’s far more complicated, it took so long to gather the ingredients to…” Tangerine pauses, looking at me with a worried and curious expression. “How did you know that?"

I bend over and pick up the book I had been reading while I waited for her to wake up. Lycans and Lycanthropy: A Log of Legendary Lacerations and Lynchings, one of my old favorites. "I ain't stupid, Tangerine. Daddy read the whole library to me a hundred times over, I know how Lycans come to be, and I heard the rumors about you and your new husband from city to city. You’re not exactly off the map.”

“We haven’t gotten married yet…” she mutters. If that’s all she has to say, then I suppose she’s not as high and mighty as she once was, and there’s no reason for us to talk further. She’s made her choice.

I stand up, grab a tunic off the floor and toss it onto the bed. "Come to breakfast if you want. I'm makin' sandwiches. Never had 'em before? You're in for a treat." I get out of Daddy’s chair and walk to the door.

Tangerine calls out to me as she throws the tunic on. "Rose, please, I want to talk."

"Ha!" I yell sarcastically.

Before I’m able to walk down the stairs, I see Nutmeg and Cinnamon sitting on the top step, giggling like the little tykes they are. They turn and flash naughty expressions at me.

“What?” I ask.

“You didn’t tell heeeer!” Nutmeg sings. “She’s gonna be ma-aaaad!”

“How mad d’you think she’s gonna be, Nutmeg?” Cinnamon asks coyly.

“Shut it,” I command. The moment I step onto the stairs, they disappear.

With those two gone, I’m able to relax. At least, as much as I can with Tangerine in the house, but I’ll take what I can get. I know I’m caught between a rock and a hard place, and trying to pretend as though Nutmeg and Cinnamon are still here is a truly mad idea. But I’m still afraid. There’s getting dust on a family heirloom, and then there’s letting your siblings be taken away and hiding it for a few months.

There is no sane option for me. I’m just going to delay the inevitable for as long as I can.

~Vision End~

“How are your muscles, Dragonborn?” Altair asks as he disembarks from Master Hammerfell’s back. He extends his arm and offers it to Caro.

Caro takes up his offer. He grunts as his chest and legs refuse to move as much as they should. He can almost hear them creaking beneath his skin. Altair is gentle as he holds Caro’s foreleg and barrel, easing him onto solid ground. “Thank you,” Caro says.

“You’re probably the first pony to take more than three bites from a changeling and survive. Their venom is insanely stubborn,” Shae comments. She leaps from Hammerfell’s head and lands on the grass with the utmost grace. “How many red potions have you drank?”

“Five, and they were the most potent ones you had.” Caro chuckles weakly. “On the bright side, I’m completely hydrated now. Nothing we can do but wait til the venom dilutes, I guess?”

Shae nods as she checks up on Caro’s withers and legs. Her eyes flash as she scans over his most crucial areas. “Fluids will help with that, but as soon as we get to the Thieves Guild’s den, I want you to find a place to lie down. I think some hot coals and a deep tissue massage will help cleanse your body and get you back in fighting condition.”

“And while you attend to that, I’ll address my thief brethren, as well as the other Nightingales,” says Altair. He grabs Caro’s belt of knives off of Hammerfell’s back, as well as a few pouches, and tosses them to Caro, who catches them in his sore forelegs. They’re slightly damp. “I found those just outside the cabin. Apparently Chrysalis didn’t cover all of her bases.”

“Smarter than leaving it with her for me to find,” Caro says. “And I think she had plans for me beyond forcing me to kill someone. Glad to know those fell through.”

“You should be even gladder to know that we’re taking a preemptive attack against her before she enacts any other schemes against you. She is devilishly tricky when she wants to be.” Altair stares at the bushes and trees. “And her spies are everywhere. Don’t talk about her until we get underground.”

“I think all attempts at stealth have been thoroughly shattered from my presence alone,” says Hammerfell, who turns his head to Mount Everfree. “I must depart.”

Caro, suddenly looking morose, moves as quickly as he can to Hammerfell’s neck, leaning on it with all of his weight. “I don’t want you to go.”

“You know I would stay if I could, but Saviikaan would love nothing more than to usurp Neigh Hrothgar in my absence. I can’t leave my followers to their own defenses; they’re but simple monks. They’d never stand a chance against him.”

Caro takes a deep breath. “I understand. Tohro and I will visit Neigh Hrothgar when we finally have time to breathe.”

“Do bring Shae and the young princesses along. I would love to meet Equestria’s future rulers in person.”

“Luna would just adore you!” Shae says, absolutely beaming at the thought, before putting on a more focused expression. “We’d best get a move on.” She gestures to Altair, who is already moving quickly to Baltimare. It appears to be aglow, with the morning sun reflecting off the water it sits upon.

“Give my best to the Greybeards,” Caro says to Hammerfell before running off after Shae and Altair.

“Hark, Caro,” Hammerfell calls out. “I forgot to tell you something important.”

Caro turns around. "What is it?"

Hammerfell leans in close and brushes his beak against Caro's muzzle. “I love you. Good luck.”

With a mighty beat of his wings that rustles the grass, bends the tree branches, and sweeps Caro’s mane and tail back, Hammerfell leaps into the air and soars away. Caro watches him, solemly waving until he disappears from sight. “I love you too, Master,” he mutters.

“Caro! Time waits for no one!” Altair shouts.

Along the moat on the outskirts of Baltimare, two gryphons loiter outside the entrance to a sewer. One of them sits on a post in the water, writing a letter, and the other stands closer to the sewer, sharpening her knife. “So, I’m fairly new around here,” she says.

“That so?” asks the one with the letter.

The knife-sharpener blows some of the whittle off of her blade. “I only left Gryphonstone three weeks ago. Flew around, thought this place looked like good a place as any to live, run into Altair and suddenly I’m running weapons for a guild of crooks. So, hurrah for me. But something’s been eating at me ever since I met him.” She shrugs. “What happened to his wings?”

The male gryphon nods his head back and forth. “He tells a different story every time you ask him. Some say it was a rare bone disease that he had to cut off at the source, but I don’t buy it. I mean, why would the disease be in both wings?”

“No such thing in Gryphonstone, as far as I know. Any other stories?”

“Some say he sold them to a collector as a child, others claim that he lost them in a raid gone wrong.”

The knife gryphon snorted. “Losing a body part in combat, that’s original. We should invent one of our own.”

"My personal favorite is where they fell off after he fell victim to a powerful sneeze," Altair says, making the post-set griffon drop his paper in the water below. "Of course, that sneeze came to be from being in a room filled with pepper and sparkpowder for explosives. And he was in there because he'd fallen down some stairs. And he'd fallen down the stairs because a vile changeling threw him down them to make an escape, before he could valiantly destroy her and her vile hive." He gives the two other griffons a wide smile. "But that's only a story."

“Mind if I steal that, sir?” the knife-sharpener asks.

Altair pats her on her spaulder as he leads Shae and Caro into the sewer entrance. “Go ahead, and sell it to the same black market dealer who betrayed me and cut them off while we were making love in a field.”

The letter gryphon fishes his letter out of the water and joins the group. “Oh, they wouldn't buy that bilge if a fat rat had drizzled itself in honey beside it!” he proclaims. “No, best give it to the surviving Blackwing from the thirty that ambushed you, and took your left, along with the lone Imperial guard who snuck up to claim your right.”

"Rest assured, that rumor will never reach the hooves of Wintercolt Academy; not after how they stole your wings and made pillows from them for their students," Shae says.

Caro looks absolutely stricken. “Wow.”

Altair bursts out laughing. “I should spend more time with company like this. But onto more important matters.” He points to the letter-writer. “Rook, finish your personal matters posthaste and empty our armory. We need our best weapons.”

“Right away, sir.” Rook flies ahead.

Altair then addresses the knife gryphon. “Arlow, I need you to wake up Mistral and find Chippy. I need them for an upcoming mission.”

Caro and Shae look at each other. “Chippy?” they ask quietly.

“You mean, all three of you will be out at once?” Arlow asks. “That… never happens. Is everything okay, sir?”

“It will be, by tomorrow. Until then, I want everyone in the guild on high alert. Those who don’t come with me and the rest of the Nightingales on this mission will be in a different sort of danger than we’ll be. Everyone needs to be awake with their backs watched. Have them all go through an identification procedure.”

“Very thorough of them,” Shae observes. “We’re witnessing what many ponies don’t have the privilege to, Caro. I want to see if the rumors about the Thieves Guild are true. We might get to see their techniques in action. See how they keep a low profile.”

“Despite everything…” Caro flashes a smile. “Yeah, I’m excited too. Tohro had to be tightlipped about how these people function. Aside from Altair and Mistral, he never mentioned any other members. We should follow his example, once we’re done here.”

“Oh, Caro, you know I’ll have to write down our adventures in a journal, one of these days,” Shae chimes innocently. “I would never leave well enough alone.”

Caro pauses. He imagines holding a fresh binding of pages that detail every moment of his life, as well as the lives of Tohro, Shae, and Rosemary, from the moment they met by happenstance. He pictures it being read to adventurers and children across history, albeit with a lot of the more unsavory aspects omitted or simplified. The idea of a documentation of Dragonrein reminds him that he, at this very moment, is shaping history alongside the greatest warriors and rulers that will be remembered for centuries to come.

“Caro? Is the venom acting up?” Shae asks, waving him back towards the group.

“No, I’m fine,” Caro says, his smile returning. Although Shae mentioning his illness makes him realize how sore he truly is. He trudges through the tunnel, joining Shae and Altair at a turn while Arlow flies ahead.

At the end of the tunnel is a sewer hub, though one would mistake it for a lively tavern, if it weren’t for murky water traveling through the center of the room, with a fittingly overbearing scent to accompany it.

“I’ve seen that look before,” Altair says after taking a glance at Caro and Shae’s faces. “Don’t worry, you acclimatize to the smell.”

“Of all the places to settle down, why a sewer?” Caro asks. “Your group may be sneaky in operations but you’re not exactly low-profile in Baltimare.”

Altair smirked and held up two talons. “Shadows and size. The sewers are just dark enough for us to hide in a hurry if an undesirable comes a-knocking, and even if they could get a mark on us, we’d be able to scatter so quickly that they’d never truly catch us.”

“So your only legitimate fear is falling victim to subterfuge?”

“Yes, and even then, it’s incredibly un—” Altair is stopped short by a hooded unicorn, who stands in his path with a neutral demeanor. The unicorn’s horn comes alight, and then he scans over Altair’s body. The inspection ends at his tail, after which the unicorn nods, and goes on his way.

Caro finishes Altair’s sentence for him. “...likely?”

“Uh, yes. Whenever the Sisterhood of Shadows is a threat, immediate or otherwise, we have ways of keeping our integrity. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” Altair crouches down and jumps up to a makeshift balcony, disappearing into another tunnel.

Shae is scanning over the many gryphons and ponies of the sewer lounge. Her eyes are slightly more aglow, but her horn is unlit. Caro looks at her with fascination, approaching and asking, “What are you doing?”

Shae pauses her surveying and lets her eyes go back to a dimmer glow. “I’m sorry, I forgot this is new to you... Ever since Fauste spoke to me, I can see the souls of everything I look upon.”

Caro nods, still taken off guard by Shae regaining her sight in his absence. “I have a shout that’s somewhat like that. It lets me distinguish friend from foe. But I fear it might be fickle; I haven’t used it since I was last in Baltimare.”

Shae resumes looking around the room. “This isn’t so black and white. I don’t see good or bad, I simply see… people. No soul is the same. Even in this room, there are so many stories and lives at work. They’re all so unique and fascinating... and fortunately, none of them are changelings.”

“What do their souls look like?” Caro asks, genuinely captivated.

“They look like the person themselves, just in a, um, purer form. Some souls are still, well-held within the confines of the body. Others transcend the body, like a flame. I don’t really know what it means. I’d have to get to know them to understand why one’s soul can take on such a shape, but I have theories.”

“What does my soul look like?” Caro holds his hoof to his chest.

Shae turns and looks at him, peering closely. “Hm. Yours is complicated. You look… consumed. Like your soul is more than yourself. And those wisps that surround you… Oh, I get it. Those are the dragons that are with you, I’m guessing?”

Rasahrel’s voice comes through Caro’s mouth. “That is a valid assertion.”

Shae steps back a little. “Oh!”

Caro chuckles and blushes. “Sorry. Rasahrel is bold. You would be too, if you only had brutes for company in this duraal grunz. Your body is not as large as it looks.”

Shae finds herself both amused and somewhat frightened. “Well… Caro is quite the brute himself.”

“The only brute I can tolerate.” Caro shakes his head and taps his cheek. “Okay, that’s enough out of you, friend. I’ll call on you when I need you, which may be very soon.” He goes quiet for a moment. “I’m looking forward to it as well.”

“You’re amazingly strange.” Shae jabs Caro in the shoulder, only for him to grunt and hiss. “Oh, right…”

Shae leads Caro along to the other end of the sewer lounge, where a fireplace full of coals resides. As they do so, many of the residents shuffle quickly past them, all speaking excitedly about something. Among all the cacophony, Caro and Shae hear mention of Altair, as well as Chrysalis. “I think they’re just as excited to take the fight to the Sisterhood as I am,” Caro says. “...Mostly. Tohro is my priority.”

Shae levitates a pillow from a nearby bunk and places it on the bench in front of the fireplace. “I feel the same, to an extent. Now lie down.”

Caro does so, much to his muscles’ discontent. As he splays his body over the bench, he has to let out several long breaths before his body stops screaming at him. He relaxes his head on the pillow.

Shae levitates some round coals out of the fireplace, dipping them in the sewer water to douse the flame. They’re still steaming hot when they rise from the water. “I know you’ll hate this, but just bear with it… I’ve only done this once before. The heat from these coals will disperse the venom, and I’ll break the rest of it down with my hooves. After that, it’s just a matter of, uh, purging it. You’re in for an unpleasant trip to the lavatory afterwards.”

Mentally prepared, and with the thought of walking back to Everfree with Tohro beside him held in his mind, Caro braces himself. “I’m ready.”

Shae places the first hot coal on Caro’s back, between his shoulders.

“Oh, that’s… AGH, FUCK!” Caro shouts. The burning sensation is felt throughout his entire body. He feels like his inner fluids are churning around the coal’s point of impact, squeezing his muscles and bones like coils. The feeling only burns worse as the other coals are placed along the length of his spine, ending at his haunches.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Shae mutters. “I swear, this will work, just hold on…” She claps her hooves together, creating a spark. Two orbs of magenta fire surround her hooves. She gently presses into Caro’s back, drawing circles into his muscles. “You’re going to be fine.”

“I know…” Caro growls. His trust in Shae can be heard beneath his pained exclamations. “You’re… you’re an amazing mage… Urgh… I trust you…”

“I know,” Shae reciprocates. She sends a little bit of her aura over to Caro’s face to stroke his forehead. “Just a little longer, Caro… We’re not going to keep Tohro waiting.”

Altair waits impatiently outside the door to Mistral’s chambers. He leans against the frame on his hind legs, tapping his paw impatiently. He resists the urge to make some sort of gender-based assumption, knowing he’s above such a thing, but every second Mistral isn’t fully prepared still eats away at him.

Finally, just as the temptation to open the door overtakes him, Mistral comes out, fully armored in her skin-tight black armor and hood. She has yet to put on her mask. “This will be the first time in a while that more than one Nightingale will serve on the same mission. I thought that was taboo.”

“Some parts of my creed are worth breaking,” Altair says. “Besides, it’s mere superstition. I scarcely believe in luck, let alone taboos.”

“Chippy is rubbing off on you.” Mistral puts her mask on. It completely hides any indication of her identity; even her voice is greatly subdued and altered by the metallic face she now wears. “Where is he, anyway?”

“Approaching.” The Nightingale known as Chippy walks into the corridor. Even a lanky earthwalker such as him looks fearsome in his armor and mask. He walks with a large amount of dignity for somepony clad in the armor of the highest class of thieves. “A worthy excursion into the changeling queen’s demesne is long overdue, yet no less unorthodox. Why such a sudden shift in plans? If I recall correctly, your trojan prisoner mission’s very purpose was to abridge an incoming war.”

“Circumstances got out of control. Besides, I wholly doubt I’d have been able to kill Chrysalis alone, in retrospect.” Altair strokes the underside of his beak. “Every other time I’ve tried to take her out, she had a tendency to detect my scent. But when the Dragonborn was there, something was different… Chrysalis is particularly interested in him.”

Chippy nods. “Indeed, but we can only guess as to why. According to reports, he has a tendency to wear his emotions on his shoulders. Perhaps it’s a sensory overload for her. Or maybe he’s just an unusual combination of emotions that she wishes to sample. It could be both, or neither.”

“In any case, she clearly had a rare slip-up,” says Mistral. “And Caro was a likely reason as to why. I know one instance doesn’t really make for a pattern, but using him might be our best shot at finally killing her.”

“The Thieves Guild always gets their due,” Altair states, patting both Mistral and Chippy on their backs. “By any means necessary.”

Altair motions to the entrance back into the sewer lounge, and walks towards it, leading his fellow Nightingales on either side of him. On the arch above the doorway, etched-in letters spell out TAKE ALL, GIVE MORE.

The moment Altair steps out onto the balcony, the loud discussions of the thieves below descend to a murmur. By the time he takes his spot in the center, the murmurs escalate back into loud voices, only now they’re far more unified, as they all pump their hooves and talons.

“Al-ta-ir! Al-ta-ir! Al-ta-ir! Al-ta-ir! AL-TA-IR! AL-TA-IR! AL-TA-IR! AL-TA-IR!”

“Yes, yes, hail me.” Altair takes a bow as his thieves cheer loudly. “Ah, your praise grows louder as our numbers grow, and yet these beautiful catacombs of brick and moss still conceal us from polite society.”

“And we’re not polite?” one gryphon in the back asks loudly.

“Quiet down, Arno! Teacher speaks!” Altair points and shouts. He collects himself and leans over the railing. “Now, my students, I am ashamed to report that my stealth operation was unsuccessful. Due to unforeseen circumstances, I had to compromise my position.”

A lot of the thieves groan in disapproval.

Altair waves his talons. “Not to worry! I think you’ll all agree that saving the Dragonborn took precedence. His battle is far more important than ours.”

There’s some quiet muttering, as well as some nods of approval. Others still hold their disappointment, though not in as many numbers.

Altair resumes his speech. “As is our tendency to find silver and gold in the most unexpected of places, I have found us both a silver lining, and a golden opportunity! See, the Dragonborn too has lost something to Chrysalis and her spawn. Tohro Blackwing, a dear close friend of his, and one of our fellow thieves, has been taken by the cruel queen. He is being held as livestock, just the same as many of us before him.”

Arno speaks up again. “So what makes this any different from the times before?”

“Arno, sit down,” Altair says with a sigh. “For too long I have ignored Chrysalis’ bargains and baiting. I’ve tried to break a vicious cycle that she’s attempted to impose upon us. She would want us to pursue the thieves she’s taken from us, or seek revenge for those she was contracted to kill, and in doing so let our rage and grief make her stronger. I’ve tried to cut us out of the picture to keep that from happening, and yet she still grows stronger as contracts towards our deaths continue to pile up.”

Mistral lowers her mask and shoots Altair a concerned frown. “You’ll lose them, sir.”

“Don’t worry,” Altair whispers, before resuming his speech. “I’ve known for some time that removing ourselves from the equation is no longer an acceptable option, but it’s only now we have a chance to succeed.”

The thieves are silent, Altair grinning all the while as he prepares for the reveal that he believes will change everything.

“Prepare for this, friends, because this is important: When in the presence of Caro, Chrysalis was unable to detect me.”

There are several exclamations of “What?!” among the sudden ruckus that sprouts from the revelation.

Altair shouted over the restless crowd. “It’s true, it’s true! Every word! She couldn’t feel a damn thing! And it goes deeper than that. She has a certain attraction to the Dragonborn, one that we can use to our advantage!” He casts his talons out, pointing at the Dragonborn himself.

Caro is still lying down, in pain from Shae’s flame-based healing. He opens his eyes slowly, weakly motioning his hoof at Altair.

“I know, I know, he doesn’t look like he’s in the best of conditions, but please trust me when I say he is the key to our success.” Altair clenches his talons into a fist and holds it aloft. “I knew it from the instant he clutched the sword of kings, Excalibur, in his hoof, and it accepted him as its master. Caro holds Equestria’s last remaining pure light in his hooves, and he will wield it to end this cold war. The long battle between the thief and the demon will finally see its conclusion.”

There’s a thunderous applause, along with the returning cheers of Altair’s name. The thieves stand united once more as they pump their talons into the air. “AL-TA-IR! AL-TA-IR! AL-TA-IR! AL-TA-IR!”

Even Shae sees fit to join in, softly repeating the cheers as she continues to apply her flaming hooves to Caro’s back. “Altair, Altair…” She chortles. “He knows how to make a speech, I’ll give him that much. Even I’m excited for this.”

“I’m not,” Caro says, his voice shuddering. He tilts his head as much as he can towards Shae. “You realize what’s going to happen, right?”

Shae shrugs. “Did I miss something?”

“I can read between the lines. Altair wants to kill Chrysalis.”

“Oh, I’m… I’m sorry.” Shae, unable to consider an answer to such a predicament, continues the healing process quietly. The procedure is just as intense for Caro as it is for her; she has to keep the flames under control, not to mention having to constantly attend to every area of his back. Luckily for her and him, she feels the venom begin to dilute. She levitates the coals off of Caro’s back and throws them back into the fireplace. “I’m going to turn you over now.”

Shae wipes her black and white mane out of her eyes and removes her hooves from Caro. As her horn lights up and her aura surrounds all of Caro, she remarks at the extent of her abilities. She doesn’t feel even the slightest hint of fatigue in lifting up the inordinately muscular stallion and turning him over, all the while keeping her forelegs aflame.

Caro is also amazed, and sighs with relief when he’s set back down without his soreness getting aggravated, for the most part. His back is still coming down from its treatment, and his mind is still racing. “Shae, I’ve had time to think about what Chrysalis did to me. At least, why she did it.”

“Uh-huh?” Shae places her hooves on Caro’s chest and presses down on it. “Sorry, this is going to be even worse.”

“I figured… Agh…” Caro wheezes as he feels something bursting from his lungs. He thinks that might be the venom. “Fuck.”

“Keep talking, it’ll distract you,” Shae suggests, moving the flames down to his belly.

Caro’s forelegs curl every time he feels a surge of pain throughout his body. Beyond that, he focuses purely on his thoughts and feelings. “I… I think I might understand her. And I understand why Altair wants her dead. I mean, I do too, but… I don’t want her to die. I want to connect with her.”

“Do you think that’s even possible?” Shae asks. “She seems like she has her own breed of morality, or worse, none at all… I’m excited for what’s going to happen, yeah, but I’m also scared for you.”

“I don’t blame you. This isn’t like anything we’ve fought before.”

“No, Caro,” Shae says. “I’m scared that you won’t be as decisive as you’re supposed to be. You’re the one who charges through with brute force when logic or bureaucracy gets in the way. You’re not a diplomat, you’re a force of nature.”

Caro’s voice is seized by Rasahrel. “He can be decisive without being a thug. Perhaps we don’t have to rely on diplomacy, merely a discussion of morals… It’s not as though we have to land the decisive cut, mind you. I, too, want to understand Chrysalis’ actions.”

Caro’s voice returns. “Hm. That could work…”

“What would work?” Shae asks.

“I’ll have to take it up with Altair, but maybe I don’t have to decide Chrysalis’ fate. Maybe I can serve as a weapon of infiltration, and let Altair decide what happens to her.”

“Caro…” Shae’s mouth is agape. The flames on her hooves momentarily go out.

“Chrysalis is… unique. She may be a demon, but there’s more to her than just that. She knew Otar. Actually, I think she might be responsible for whatever made him live for so long. She might even know something that could help me fight Saviikaan.”

“It’s all assumption.” Shae hunches over the bench next to Caro. “This is dangerous. I know risky is how you operate, but please, for my sake, and Tohro’s, don’t do anything downright stupid. The world can’t handle the Dragonborn dying twice.”

“I’ll be fine.” Caro flashes a smile. “I have a few good minds to keep me in check. Speaking of which, are you okay? You seem a little high-strung.”

Shae quickly raises her hoof to her neck. “Do I?” She quickly pulls her hoof away. It’s still hot.

Mistral brushes Altair with her wingtips. “Sir, with all due respect, while I appreciate that you’ve learned to trust the Dragonborn, I think you might be making an overcorrection.”

“I know how powerful Excalibur is. We all do.” Altair pokes at the map with his talon, and moves a small wooden quadruped figure into a large chamber at the top of third floor. “We only need be a safeguard for Caro. He can singlehandedly infiltrate the Sisterhood of Shadows’ mansion, approach Chrysalis, and strike her down where she stands. Excalibur can finish her in just one swing, and it’s not as though Chrysalis will be able to speak to the hive with Caro buggering up the connection. That’ll give the three of us enough time to take a small search party below to the lower chambers and find the prisoners.”

Mistral closely examines the map, as well as the rest of the wooden figures that stand beside it. The mansion is surprisingly detailed, leading her to believe that Altair has been in there more often than she’d wish for him. She’s at least thankful that their battle strategy will be all the more fine-tuned because of such experiences. “Might I suggest an adjustment, sir?” she asks.

“Go ahead.”

“We know how powerful Excalibur is, no one is denying that… Problem is, a weapon is only as powerful as whoever’s holding it. You said that yourself.”

Chippy grunts. “You seem a little too eager to believe that having a single variation in the status quo will ensure victory. I understand your plight, but don’t let idiocy clog your veins the way Caro’s veins are clogged with venom. It doesn’t matter what Shae Sparkle does, he won’t be in peak condition for at least a week.”

Altair falls back into his chair and folds his arms. “Even with an advantage, Chrysalis still has to weigh down on our shoulders…” His expression turns sad. “You understand why this has to end, right? Chrysalis has made a mockery of me, my family, my friends, and my students for years. And I’m not the only one suffering for her selfishness. The only thing holding me back from seeking justice until now was a lack of authority and no means of taking the advantage over her.”

“And now you have both,” says Chippy. “It’s an overwhelming experience, huh?”

“When Ezio died, I was thankful that the Thieves Guild would fall into much more capable talons, not to mention that I’d be able to finally bring the Nightingales back.” Altair flashes his talons, taking a knife out of his belt and looking at his reflection within it. “I think I’ve done well as a leader, but I still feel like a child, holding one of these for the first time…” He glares menacingly at the map of the mansion. “I need to make this count, for everyone that Chrysalis has had killed. She’s too dangerous to leave alive.”

Caro and Shae had just walked into the room. Caro immediately ducks back around the corner with a loud gasp at Altair’s words. They crawl over him like a cold breeze.

The Nightingales are far too perceptive to not notice Caro. “Come on out, Dragonborn,” Chippy says. “You’re just as responsible for this operation as we are.”

Caro takes a deep breath, mentally reciting his intended request one more time before walking into the room, with Shae close behind. “Hello, Nightingales,” he says.

“Hello to you two as well,” says Mistral. “We’re just coming to an agreement on a battle strategy. Obviously, Caro, you’ll play a large part in it, but I think exactly how much should fall to you. You’re the one who contains both Excalibur and an unhealthy dose of changeling venom.”

“The latter isn’t doing me any favors.” Caro rolls his shoulders with a pained groan. “Still, better than I was an hour ago… At the very least, I might be able to move quickly, but anything that would strain my muscles is out of the question.”

“In that case,” Altair says, picking off one of his feathers and dipping it into a fresh bottle of ink, “we’ll have to make due with what you can manage. If we want to save Tohro, Chrysalis’ connection to the rest of the hive must be afflicted.”

“So I’ll have to confront her no matter what.” Caro walks up to the table, coming into the candlelight, and leans over the map. He tilts his head as he examines the intricate detail of the drawn mansion. “So, this is her base of operations.”

“You’re awfully familiar with the layout," Shae acknowledges. "Have you been held there before, Altair?”

“Too often for any sane gryphon or pony,” Altair admits. “Fortunately, most of those captures happened on my own accord. So, yes, I’m quite familiar with the mansion. You’re probably wondering why Chrysalis is here instead of—”

“A seedy cave, or an actual hive?” Caro interrupts. “Actually, if you’re an emotion eating scarab, it makes sense to disguise one’s self within a high establishment. Sure, it might draw attention, but that’s a good way to gather food.”

“In more ways than you know, Dragonborn…” Chippy muses. “If the Sisterhood of Shadows feeds on anger and fear with their assassination stint, how do you think they feed on pleasure and lust?”

Caro steps away, feeling dizzy from something other than his sore muscles. “Oh. We’re invading a brothel.” He comes back to the map and leans his forelegs on it. “And Tohro’s there…”

The Nightingales all focus on Caro. His expression is unlike anything he’s worn before. The anger and pain is visible with his twitching mouth, but he’s also unusually calm and focused. The gears in his head turn, almost audible to everyone around him.

Shae puts her hoof on Caro’s shoulder. “I am so—”

Caro slams his hooves down. “Okay. I think we can all agree that I’m in no condition for an assault or stealth mission, but maybe we can try something different.”

“Like what?” Chippy asks. “Using the front door?”

Caro’s expression turns thoughtful. “Actually…”

Altair looks unusually giddy.