---New Ruler of Crystal Empire Sponsors Quest to Find lost historical tomb---Trottingham Gazette

---Crystal Princess orders royal expedition to find Lost Tomb of Founders--- Good Neighbor News

---Quest for Historical Treasure Begun--- Whinny Weekly

---Lost Treasure of Crystal Empire: The Hunt Begins for the Lost Secrets---Quarterhorse Times

---Hidden Treasure in Sombra's Former Kingdom--- Daily Steeplechase

---Earth Pony Treasure?--- Daily Hitching Post

---The Secret Treasure of King Sombra--- Equestrian Enquirer

It was a long, circuitous delivery route. The package in question crossed three rivers, a frozen tundra, countless rickety rope bridges over bottomless canyons, and up the donkey trail winding up the side of one brutal, lifeless mountain. The final leg of the journey it was not carried by any pony(1); it was raised to the charred stump of a blasted mountaintop by way of a miles-long rope and pulley system built centuries ago. From there the basket that contained it would be carried aloft in massive, stone-hard claws to a lonely caldera, where magma seeped and bubbled and sulfurous lakes boiled, and conveyed, with many a bowing and scraping, to one of the many caves that dotted the inside walls of the massive bowl of rock and ash; the home of Tirnog, the great red dragon and fierce master of a full seventh of a dragonflight.

The centuries-old resident who lived there would receive it with anticipation, carrying the wicker basket as if it were as fragile as an egg-- and in those massive claws it was so-- deep into his innermost sanctum where he would open it, to reveal what had cost such time and labor and painstaking care....

Newspapers. Copies of every newspaper published in every corner of the world; Equestria, Zebrica, Saddle Arabia, and more.

In dragon lands something as flammable as paper wasn't exactly common, and was consequently more precious than gold or gems. Information, any information, was conveyed by word of mouth or by other, clumsier means.(2) Tirnog had learned to read as a hatchling and in his adolescent years learned just how valuable information about the goings-on in the world could be in keeping a leg up on his rivals. The grueling and complicated system he had devised to get his subscriptions to all his papers and magazines delivered right to his cave was worth twenty, no a hundred times its cost.(3)

Today though, his precious package of publications was intercepted. Briefly. By a far smaller specimen than himself, whose russet red coloration had led to Tirnog grudgingly acknowledging him as his son. The younger drake took the basket from the dragon courier, hastily threw him a clawful of gems in payment, and absconded with the basket further down the rubble-strewn slopes to a retreat of his own choice; one more comfortable for poring over his illicit plunder.

"Move over."

"Come on, let me see it--"

"I can't read nuthin', it's too dark in here. Hold on, lemme light a torch..." There was a sound of someone inhaling sharply, then a small gout of flame illuminated the cave. There was a sharp smack, and the flame went out.

"Owww!"

"Stop that, you moron! You wanna set the papers on fire?"

"Jeez, they're just papers--"

"And if my old man finds so much as one of 'em missing, we're all dead meat! Now shut up a second." There was some muffled grunting and the sound of glass scraping on metal. A tiny flame glimmered in the darkness, catching on a wick. Slowly it caught, filling the teenager's cavern with light. Garble carefully lowered the lid on the storm lamp and adjusted the wick. "There, better."

"What is that thing?" Grundle said, tapping the glass with a claw tip. He scratched his ponderous belly with his free hand.

"Don't touch it, you'll break it. It's called a lantern. Found it in a burned out caravan. You fill it up with flammable liquid, light the wick and it lights the room. Cool, huh?" Garble said.

"Cool," Scrag, the scrawny, ram horned dragon said. "What's it filled with?"

"You don't wanna know. Trust me."

"C'mon, tell."

"Well, lemme put it this way. Our breath ain't the only thing that comes out of us that's flammable," Garble said, smirking.

The others thought this over for a second.  "Eww," said Grundle, wiping his hand off on the floor. "Aw, man, dude, tell us stuff like that beforehand."

"All right, whatever," Blizz, the white dragonling said. He crowded in to look at the papers Garble was sifting through. "What're we doing this for anyway?"

"I got a look at the last load of papers my old man got," Garble said. "They're sure to run a followup. There's stuff going down in the Crystal Empire you ain't gonna believe!"

"Crystal Empire?" Rockjaw muttered. He scratched his oversized chin.

Flange brushed his drooping yellow crest out of his eyes. "Ehh, some place full a wussy ponies," he said.

"Here it is! Check it out." Garble carefully picked the copy of Equestria Enquirer out of the pile and opened it up. It was a double page spread titled

THE LOST TREASURE OF KING SOMBRA(4)

Princess and Pony Protege' Seek Ancient Lost Treasure of the Crystal Empire

Garble held up the paper triumphantly so all could see. "You guys recognize any of these losers?" he gloated. Below and behind the blaring headline was a wide angle, full color photograph from the palace banquet. It showed the whole royal family: Princess Cadence, Shining Armor, Twilight at the podium in mid-pontification, Nyx and Spike...

Rockjaw's eyes went wide. "Hey, it's that little twerp from the migration," he said, jabbing a claw at the picture of Spike. Garble winced, but paper was fragile; Tirnog would expect a little damage.

"Yeah, it's that runt who stole our egg! And look--" he pointed at a pudgy yellow ball of feathers hovering around Spike's shoulder. "That fat little twerp got a pet phoenix out of it! Whatta gyp!"

"Yeah," Grundle said. The group of teenage dragons muttered in anger and jealousy. The fact that they had planned to merely smash the egg was conveniently forgotten in the commiseration of envy. "It sucks. But what's the point, Garble?"

"The point?" Garble said, disbelieving. "Didn't you read the headline?" The others stared at him. "You didn't." He paused. "You can't read the headline, can you." No denials. He sighed. "Fine. It says that twerp and his little purple pony friend are looking for the lost treasure of King Sombra."

"Who's Sombra?" Rockjaw shrugged.

"See, this is why my old man runs this joint," Garble gloated. "He knows stuff. Sombra was some wizard a thousand years ago who ruled this Crystal Empire place. He was so hardcore he even came to the Dragonlands and threw his weight around. Took on the old Dragon King, mopped the floor with him, and stole his hoard. Not just some of it, the whole stinkin' hoard." the dragons' eyes glittered as Garble's fantasies took off. "You've heard the legends, man. The greatest treasure hoard any dragon ever owned... not just gold and gems, but magic stuff. Enchanted weapons, magic tomes, fire crystals, moonstones, leviathan bones, you name it. Stuff so rare that you can't find it anymore.  Any dragon with a hoard like that would rule the Dragonlands."

"Oh, I get it," Scrag said. "You think this is the treasure they're looking for?"

"What else could it be?" Grundle said. The glint in his eyes turned hard as he looked down at the picture. "And this little runt is sure to have first pick of it when they find it." The others growled. "That's dragon treasure. It belongs in Dragon claws-- not with little puny ponies or their phony-dragon pets!"

"Nothing we can't fix," Garble said ominously. "We just go there and take back what's rightfully ours."(5)

The others suddenly looked a lot more hesitant. "You mean us? Just the six of us against a whole empire of ponies?" Flange said in surprise.

Garble sneered. "Oh no, pretty little ponies!" He said in a falsetto, flapping his hands at the wrist. "whatever shall we do?" He glared at them. "You big wussies. Yeah, us against a whole empire of ponies-- the weeniest things on earth. That purple one is supposed to be Princess Celestia's super-magical student, and we ran her off without even trying! And these ponies aren't even the magical kind! look..." He flipped through the tabloid, showing them the pictures of the Crystal Empire. "No horn. No horn.... No horn here, either..." He snorted and flipped back to the double page spread. "Even their namby-pamby pony leader is the namby-pambiest one of the bunch. 'Princess Cadence, the Alicorn of Love." He snorted, coming perilously close to setting the paper alight. "Ooo, I'm shakin'."

Some of them were coming around. Others weren't so certain. "That's still a lot of ponies," Grundle pointed out. Even someone immune to stings would question the wisdom of chucking rocks at a hornet nest.

Garble smirked. "Yeah?" He dragged a covered iron pot from hiding. "I got us a fix for that." He lifted the lid; the cave flooded with purple-red light. 'Oooo's of amazement rose up. He watched with satisfaction as his friend's eyes lit up with greed.

"Fire opals," Flange said. "A whole pot of 'em."

"I never seen so many at once," Blizz said.

"This? Swiped 'em from the old man's hoard," Garble said loftily.

The others looked wary. "Won't Tirnog kinda notice these missing?" Scrag said.

"Eh, he' s got twice this just lyin' around," Garble bragged. "Besides, we bring back Old King Smirnoff's hoard, this'll be pocket change!(6)" He could see it in their eyes; they were on board now. He dug out a handful of opals and chomped them down. "Eat up, compadres-- we got a long trip ahead of us. But by the time we arrive...

"We'll be ready to give that turncoat and his namby pamby pony friends the worst day of their lives." His grin was all fangs as his friends chowed down.