Chapter Fifty Five

A First for a Dragon

After the first stop for the night, in an old outpost long since abandoned by any living creature, save for a few mice, Spike found himself literally shaken out of bed, early the next morning, by a rather chipper Eutropia. Granted, what he was sleeping in wasn’t much of a bed to begin with, but with lying-down space rather sparse in the carriage he was in, and entirely against the prospect of sleeping in the other carriage with Ebony and Eutropia, he had elected to rest in here, so that at least his family could sleep in comfort.

“Come now, Spike, I said I’d be easy on you at first, before we began your training, and now that time is over,” she said. “I want you to keep pace with us, the carriages are going to leave any minute and we won’t stop unless you drop. Got it?”

“We’re leaving already?” He asked, rising slowly from the cold floor.

“That’s what I said, didn’t I?” Eutropia said, cocking her head to the side as if slightly amused by his reaction. “Come now, we don’t have all day for you to wake up. We gotta go if we’re going to make good time.”

“But what about breakfast?” Spike asked, feeling rather hungry...

“The rest of us already had breakfast while you were asleep,” she replied simply, turning and walking out of the small building. “You’ll get something to eat if you hurry to the carriages now, but running on a full stomach is not always a good idea.”

“What about second breakfast?” The dragon muttered as he slowly rose to his feet.

“You won’t be getting any breakfast if you don’t hurry it up,” was her reply.

“Well, I guess this won’t be too bad,” he muttered as he walked out the door in time to see the carriages starting to move. “I mean, she said they’d stop if I did, so it shouldn’t be too hard, right?”

Some time later, Spike was wishing he could eat his words. Panting constantly, he could just barely keep up with the carriages, and by keep up, he meant running about fifty feet behind them. He had lost track of just how long he had been moving; a few hours, at least, or maybe even more. His feet hurt, his back ached, his legs moved as if they were stuffed full of wet cement, and his lungs felt like they were on fire.

The irony was not lost on him.

“Maybe... I... should... take a breather,” he panted as they came around a bend in the road. “It can’t... be much... farther to... a town.” After all, the sign he saw for the next town was passed several hours ago, and surely they weren’t too far off from it... right?

Looking ahead, he couldn’t believe his luck. Indeed, not only was there a town up ahead, a small one by the looks of it, but from where the sun sat, it was already noon; time for rest and lunch.

And true to the fact, the minute they reached the small town and came to a stop, he did the first and only thing his body would allow at the moment: dropping to the ground with a loud thud. He couldn’t even make the effort to look up when he heard his wives exiting the carriage and walking over to him.

“Are you okay?” Trixie asked as Asalah checked his pulse.

“Mfn,” the dragon muttered in the dirt, his legs twitching slightly as the urge to keep walking still held root in them.

“What?” Asalah asked as Chrysalis and Maria magically rolled him over.

“I’m fine,” he repeated, wheezing slightly as he did. “Just need... a rest is all.”

“Well then, you’ll be getting one for a while, at least,” Ebony Blade said as he stepped down from his own carriage. “We’ll be in Marescow in a few days, but that won’t do us any good if you run yourself too ragged to meet our future hosts. Haven’t you ever run before?”

“Yeah, I’ve run,” Spike replied. “Just not for hours on end. Seriously, who even does that?”

“More than you’d think,” the mercenary replied with a shrug. “I myself had to do a lot of running in my younger years, when I was training in the art of fighting. Builds strength and endurance, plus it’s a good way to keep in shape if you don’t overdo it.” He'd heard horror stories about mercs who'd literally run themselves so much without pause that they'd drop dead in their prime, or would practically cripple themselves at an early age because their body eventually just gave up on them. A few he knew even got shorter somehow by an inch or two, something a healer had once said was due to "compression" of something.

“Well, I’d prefer we make it to Marescow before winter comes along,” Eutropia said, exiting the carriage and walking up to Ebony. “Okay, so maybe having you run for hours straight was a bit too much for a first lesson, but don’t think I’m going easy on you.”

“Trust me, I don’t,” the dragon muttered.

“Okay, so then you’ll be happy to know I’ve reduced that part of your training to around ten miles a day, with you resting in the carriage with your family in the meantime,” the griffin said simply.

“Oh wow, only ten miles? Stop me if I sound too grateful,” Spike said, slowly dragging himself to his feet. “We have any food? I didn’t get breakfast, and I’m starved.”

“Well, that just so happens to be one of the reasons why we’re stopping,” Ebony said as he retrieved a small bag. “We need some supplies if we’re going to make good time, and if nobody has any objections, I think it’d be best if I, alone, do the shopping.”

“Why’s that?” Eutropia asked.

“Well, these lands don’t exactly have a good history with griffins, what with the wars of the Ottomare Empire often conflicting with these lands,” the batpony replied. “A lot of ponies have become disillusioned with the whole “emperors rule over all” idea, especially since so many were ousted and came here, looking for recruits to build armies to take back their thrones. During some of the griffin dynasties, the brothers of emperors would often try to raise armies to overthrow their siblings in this area particularly, leading to some very nasty civil wars.”

“How do you know so much about that?” It was not Eutropia that asked this, but Asalah.

“I make it my business to know about the lands around my own, history and culture and all,” Ebony said simply. “Besides, I know these kinds of ponies; the younger ones will likely bother Eutropia for reasons or others, so it’d be best for her to stay by the carriages, preferably with you lot for company. Okay?”

“Fine, fine, I’ll stay here,” the griffin said, crossing her arms and leaning against a carriage.

“Promise me you won’t get in trouble?” The batpony asked.

“I promise,” she replied.

“Good.” With that, the mercenary walked off, disappearing amongst the stalls and buildings along the street. Maria, Trixie, and Chrysalis all, more or less, dragged Spike back into their carriage to give him some rest while they waited for Ebony to come back, while Asalah chose to stay outside, glancing over at the griffin every now and then, who seemed lost in thought.

“Um... Eutropia?” The zebra asked.

“Huh? I mean, yeah?”

“Have... have you ever, you know... flown?”

“Yeah... why do you ask?” Flying was as natural to griffins as magic was to unicorns or swimming was to a whale. While Istanbul had not given her many opportunities to take to the air, Eutropia had indeed flown before, often behind her mother. Flying was easy for her; landing, on the other hand, was something else.

“Well, it’s just, when I was younger my father kept all sorts of beautiful birds in his gardens. Falcons, canaries, peacocks, parrots... he’d even have some of them fly around the palace, soaring so gracefully on the warm desert winds. I just... I don’t know, I guess I just wished I could fly when I was younger. Soar up into the air, seemingly lighter than the breeze, away from all earthly problems; maybe it was the part of me that didn’t like where my life was potentially heading.”

“Potentially?”

“My father sought suitors almost as soon as my cycle began,” the mare said simply. “In my culture, mares are often married off at such an age, sometimes younger, as infant mortality and other factors can really limit how many foals one has, even amongst nobles. Or at least, that’s what some of my nannies told me growing up, but they worked for my father, so for all I knew, they told me what he told them to tell me.”

The griffin raised an eyebrow as a few passing ponies stared at the pair of them. “He really wanted to marry you off that soon?”

“I know, it sounds barbaric, and now that I know of what it is like for others outside of my old life, it seems so, even to me, but it was practical for our culture. It had to have been, or else it never would have developed in the first place. Regardless, most did not find me all that appealing.”

“What?” Eutropia asked, motioning with a free talon at the mare. “But you’re gorgeous! Any stallion in his right mind would be tripping on himself just to kneel before you!”

“Well, when I was younger, I did not look like this,” Asalah said, subtly gesturing to herself. “Still, my father’s power would have made me quite the catch on some noble’s arm, but it was not to be. I never liked any that visited us, and many likely thought of me as “damaged goods” once they learned of my mother’s demise when I was young.”

“I know that feeling,” Eutropia muttered.

“You do, don’t you,” the zebra stated.

“Yeah,” the griffin replied, smoothing out a few of her head feathers. “My father wasn’t around for me when I hit puberty. He died about seven years ago, you see.”

“Oh, I’m... I’m sorry for your loss,” Asalah said.

“Yeah, well, somebody has to be,” the griffin said, trying not fall into the pain she still felt for him. “I mean... he was there for me when I was younger, all the time, no matter how busy he was. Then I lost him, and mother tried so hard raising me on her own while she was captain of the guard, and then this all happened...”

“It’s okay, everything will turn out alright in the end,” Asalah said, gently laying her hand on the griffin’s shoulder.

Eutropia brushed it off. “Yeah? Asalah, I don’t know about you, but the fact remains that my father died well before his time, something I’ll likely never get over. There was so much left for him to teach me, to talk about, so much left unsaid, and I’ll never get to know about him, about his side of the family. I’ve lost a part of me that I can never hope to get back.”

Even with the barely-suppressed angst coming off the young griffin in waves, Asalah placed her hand on Eutropia’s shoulder once more, a little more firmly this time. “I know what that’s like,” she said quietly.

“You do?” The griffin didn’t even have the will to remove the zebra’s hand again.

“Yes, I do,” the mare said softly. “I lost my mother at a young age, in an accident that I used to believe was my own fault. My entire life after that point revolved around my father and what he said, what he did, what he told me was expected of me. If not for Spike, I’d likely still be back there, suffering in quiet anguish, as you are now.”

“What? No, no, I’m n-not suffering,” Eutropia said, turning away quickly to hide her face.

“It’s okay to feel sadness, Eutropia; it doesn't make you less of a po— griffin to admit that, does it?”

“But... but I’ve been taught all my life to keep my emotions in check, to keep them hidden from others,” the griffin said slowly. “I... I don’t want to be weak by showing them to anyone, including you.”

“Eutropia, showing your true feelings isn’t weakness,” the zebra mare said as several ponies pointed in their direction. “You’re confusing that with strength. It takes a strong pony to acknowledge they have these sorts of feelings, and an even stronger one to embrace them and let others in. Bottling all that up inside yourself; letting it simmer and stew within your heart is not healthy for your sanity or your health. Trust me, I know all too well what it’s like to feel alone in the world, even when surrounded by everything I have ever known.”

“Then... what am I supposed to do?” Eutropia asked.

“Believe in me,” was the mare’s reply. “Believe in the fact that you can trust in me, and in my family, to be there for you while you try to find your way in this new and frightful world. But most importantly, believe in yourself. You can do this, Eutropia: you can be stronger than your fears and let yourself open up to those around you.”

The griffin made a sniffing sound. “I’ll... I’ll try, okay? At least, for now, around you, Asalah.”

“It’s a start, but a good start nonetheless,” the zebra said sweetly, softly pulling the griffin into a hug. “We’ll see how things go from there.”

“Excuse me.”

The two looked over to see a small gathering of ponies looking at them; mostly stallions, and from the way they carried themselves, likely teenagers or younger, though one or two were definitely in their mid twenties. Most of them were looking Eutropia up and down as if they were wondering just what she was, while a few others were doing the same to Asalah. If what Ebony said about these ponies were true, about them being fairly isolated from the rest of the world, then it was just as likely that none of them had ever seen a zebra before, let alone a griffin. They’d probably lose their minds if they saw Spike or Chrysalis.

“Yes?” Asalah asked.

“Who’s your friend?” One of the taller ponies asked, gesturing towards the griffin.

“Who’s asking?” Eutropia replied, removing herself from the hug and protectively placing herself between the zebra and the group.

“Now now, no need to get defensive,” another pony said, apparently put off by the sudden scowl on the griffin’s beak. “We just don’t get visitors often, or at least, none that stay for more than a few minutes.”

“I’m Eutropia,” she said. “I’m a griffin. This here is Asalah, a friend of mine. She’s a zebra, in case you didn’t know.”

“Oh,” several of the younger ones said, with a few of them taking a step back.

The other pony from before stepped forward. “Sorry, it’s just none of us have ever seen a griffin or a zebra in real life before. Ponies who come this way usually don’t stay for very long, often just enough to get directions or something, and even then, they tend to keep to themselves and stay out of sight. For good reason, too; our parents tell us that griffins tend to bring trouble.”

“Ah griffin, eh?” A voice said, and as the group parted, a trio of older, gruff-looking ponies arrived on the scene. “Now what’s a griffin doing in parts like these?”

“They’re just travelers,” one of the smaller ponies said, not looking up as the rest of the group began to back away. To Asalah, it was clear these three were troublemakers of some kind, if not a local gang or something equally dubious.

“Is that so?” One of the three asked, his face being the rough approximation of what happens to a jack o’lantern left out in the cold for too long. The others were slightly more handsome, but not by much, and their collective sneers made them all the more unfriendly-looking. “Where did you two come from?”

“We came by way of Transylmania, after... leaving the borders of the Ottomare Empire,” Asalah said. There was no need for any of these ponies to know they were escapees from Istanbul; in fact, none needed to know of that bit of information, not until they were far beyond the reach of their captor’s influence. Like, say, China: or maybe Japan.

“Just you two?” One said, his gaze making the pair of them feel rather uncomfortable. By now, the rest of the others had began to disperse, with some of the younger ones being almost forcefully led away by the older ponies. It was evident this trio was not good company.

“No, we’re not alone,” Eutropia said, while in fact, other than Asalah being there, she was alone with these three. “Our guide, a mercenary, decided we should stop here to buy some supplies. Asalah’s husband also needed his rest.”

“Oh, so she’s taken?” The oldest of the three said.

“Yes, very much so,” the zebra said, wishing Spike were here to stand by her side, if only because his presence comforted her.

He turned to Eutropia, slowly approaching her as he did so. “What about you, griffin? You taken?”

“My name is Eutropia,” she replied, crossing her arms and scowling at the trio. “That’s all you need to know.”

“Oh, come now, don’t be rude,” he said, his tone clearly rude in and of itself. “No need to make a fuss, just wanted to know if you were taken, is all.”

Eutropia was not happy at his increasing proximity. “No, I am not taken, and I prefer it to remain that way,” she said. “Kindly back off.”

“Oh, really?” He said, placing his hand on her shoulder. “I’m betting I can change th-,”

Asalah’s eyes couldn’t track exactly what happened next, but to her, it seemed one moment the stallion had placed his hand on the griffin’s shoulder, and in the next instant, he was flying upside down, past his two cohorts, along with a loud thud as he slammed into the ground, rolling head over heels past where the others had been before coming to a stop in the middle of the dusty road. His two pals looked from him, to each other, and then to the griffin.

“What? I said I’m not taken,” Eutropia said, casually brushing herself off as if nothing had happened. “Must not have caught the hint I wasn’t interested.”

“Get her!” One of the remaining two said before they rushed the griffin, just as Asalah took several steps back in fright, trying to keep herself out of harms way.

The first one threw a wild punch, only for Eutropia to snap her head to the side, watching as it missed her by inches. Then, with a strong uppercut, she hit him right under the chin, throwing him off balance, followed by a swift pair of kicks to the stomach and the solar plexus. The stallion flew backwards too, lifted high enough off of his hooves that he soared over his buddy and landed in a wheezing heap on top of his other friend.

The last stopped in his tracks right before he reached Eutropia, this time aiming a kick for her ribs. She swerved slightly, catching his legs under an arm, and almost casually lifted him off the ground. With a slight shift in her stance she let go, which propelled him into the air, where she slammed her open palm upside his head, sending him spinning into the dirt. Once down, she picked him up by the scruff of the neck and tossed him onto his other two friends.

All of this happened in a space of less than ten seconds.

Asalah could only stare as the griffin smoothed out her feathers. “Anypony else?”

The group of ponies from before, scattered all over the area at a safe distance, simply stared from her to the three groaning troublemakers. “We’re not with them” one of the older ones called as they then all proceeded to disappear.

“Good.”

Shoving his two groaning friends off of him, the first one fumbled in his belt and quickly withdrew a long, shiny dagger. “I’m going to make you regret that,” he growled, breaking into a run towards Eutropia.

The griffin met him halfway, knocking his sword arm off to the side whilst bringing up a knee on his forearm. Howling in pain as something clearly was suddenly not well inside him, the stallion looked up in time to see Eutropia’s foot land square in his face, sending a spurt of blood through the air as he fell backwards, blood dribbling from his suddenly-misshapen nose. Landing with a loud thud, the stallion clutched at his nose with one hand and cradled his arm against his body with another.

Eutropia walked up to his side and kicked the dagger away, looking down on her suddenly-pitiful attacker. “Here’s a hint, bozo,” she said, kicking him slightly in the leg for good measure. “If a female doesn’t want you near her, she doesn’t want you near her. Doesn’t matter what you think of the situation; I said back off, so please, next time, if there is a next time where a female says that to you, kindly, back off.”

All the stallion could do was moan in pain.

“Eutropia, what did I say?”

Turning, Asalah saw Ebony walking towards them, a sizeable bag over one shoulder and a look of both exasperation on his face, along with… fear?

“What?” The griffin replied.

“You promised me that you wouldn’t get in trouble, and what did you do? Beat up on three stallions while I’m gone!” He gestured over at the one holding himself on the ground. “That one probably has a broken arm!”

“Mr. Blade, they started it,” Asalah said. “They were getting too close for comfort, and one got too close to Eutropia and grabbed her by the shoulder, even after she told him to back off, and—,”

“Asalah, thank you, but this is between me and Eutropia,” the batpony said as he set the bag inside the carriage.

“I don’t see how not letting those low-lifes put their hands on me is somehow my fault,” the griffin retorted.

“But Eutropia, that’s just it; defending yourself is one thing. Potentially crippling is another entirely, especially when you obviously knocked that dagger out of his hands so easily.”

“So I should have just let myself get stabbed, or let Asalah get caught in the struggle?” She asked, bewildered at his tone. “What was I supposed to do?”

“Well, for starters, you didn’t need to attempt to break his arm,” the batpony said, walking over to the huddled youth. Reaching out, he gently grasped and observed the forearm in question. “Well, thankfully, no, you didn’t break it; a bad dislocation, yes, but nothing broken.” With a quick wrenching motion, the mercenary set the bone back into place, earning another loud howl of agony from the injured youth. “Get yourself to a healer, young man, and don’t be bothering anypony again, understand? I won’t be here next time to stop someone tougher than you from breaking every bone in your body, or worse, gutting you: understand?”

The youth nodded with a whimper and slowly clambered back to his hooves, scampering off as his two companions rose to theirs.

As Ebony turned away, there was a shout, and ducking, he saw as another dagger narrowly soared past him and headed straight for Eutropia, where—

—a magical glow arrested it’s flight instantly. Everypony looked to see Maria step out of the second carriage, her horn glowing as she casually flicked the dagger away into a pile of dung.

The batpony turned to see the two ruffians running for their lives, only for two bolts of magic to slam into their backs. Lifting them off their hooves, the two soared through the air before slamming into a building, whereupon they fell into a large pile of cow manure.

“You do not threaten our friends and expect to just get away with it, anymore than you would threaten our family,” the unicorn noblemare said harshly as the others looked at her. “What? I saw everything that happened, only none of you would’ve been able to stop that other dagger.”

“I would have dodged it,” Eutropia muttered as the pregnant unicorn fished through the bag of supplies Ebony brought back.

“You weren’t looking at it, and even if it hadn’t skewered you to the carriage, you could have been hurt,” was the mare’s reply. “Now, if you lot are done making a spectacle of yourselves, we’d best get going. I thought we were on a schedule?”

Ebony merely sighed; even though she was not yet half his age, Maria still somehow carried with her a grace and a dignity that made him feel incredibly foolish all of a sudden, as if he were a young stallion who had been caught by his mother picking on his younger siblings. “Okay, okay; load up everypony, and you too, Eutropia. You and I need to have a talk, alone.”

Groaning in frustration, the young griffin clambered into the first carriage and slammed the door behind her. Ebony just looked at Asalah with a mixture of “now what” and “it’ll be okay” written on his face, to which Asalah simply nodded politely and followed Maria back into their own carriage. Soon, they set out, their wheels creaking as they left the town behind them.

“Eutropia, I promised your mother I would keep you safe, and to keep you out of the hands of the Ottomare Empire,” Ebony Blade said after some time, the town now many hours and miles behind them. He had thought that giving her some time to think, and himself, to some extent, would be best for the both of them before they talked.

He could only hope he was right.

“Yeah, so?” The griffin muttered.

“Eutropia, please, humor me. I’ve tried caring for you as best I could in the short time you’ve been under my care, but you’re no more my daughter than I am your father. We’re from worlds so different that to try and deny such a thing would be ludicrous. Now, please, you have to know that I would not have scolded you back there if it was not for a good reason.”

“Oh yeah?” She said, leaning her head out of the carriage window. “Name one.”

“Eutropia, when you’ve got a chip on your shoulder, you tend to have many, many problems in life, especially if you start as young as you are,” the older batpony said simply. “Getting into fights over anything can lead to much greater troubles down the road, especially if those fights lead to serious injuries, or even worse. There are towns, Eutropia, towns I can never return to in parts of Crimea for reasons like that. Some of my first mercenary work was up there, and some drunk local would challenge me to a fight because I was from out of town, and after I beat him fair and square, he or his friends would try to ambush me. More often than not, somepony would get hurt, or even killed, and no matter what I tried to say or explain, I was always the outsider to that community, and that was as good a proof of guiltiness as anything. They won’t come after me, or at least, none have, but Eutropia, if I were to ever set hoof near those towns again, I’d be hanged.”

“And?”

“And, Eutropia, that means my life has been irreversibly altered by some stupid decision, like to fight some jerk who was bothering you. Did you really think they stood a chance against you, the daughter of the captain of the Ottomare royal guard?”

“Well, no, but—”

“But nothing, Eutropia. No matter how good your technique, no matter how well you handle yourself, no matter your skill, it is better not to fight at all, understand?”

“Sure, I guess so,” the griffin mumbled.

“I’m not saying don’t stand up for yourself, or even to not defend yourself in times of trouble, but you need to know restraint, only fighting as a last resort. Skilled as you are, you’re still young, and have a long way to go.”

“But what about you? You’re a mercenary; it’s your job to fight, and more often than not, kill, right?”

“Yes, but that is my life, and I don’t want you to make the same mistakes as I did,” he replied. “Eutropia, I’ve seen a lot of dead ponies and other creatures in my time, more than a few by my own sword and the hand that wielded it. When it’s war, it’s one thing, but a fight, it’s something entirely different. Nopony will think less of you for killing another being in war: that’s what war is, killing and killing and killing until either someone runs out of soldiers to kill or the leaders decide to stop the bloodshed for often differing reasons. There can be those who claim war is never just or that to defend oneself in a war is just as bad as starting one, but they if have never experienced what war is, then how can they claim as such? You, Eutropia... you could have killed that stallion back there if I hadn’t stopped you.”

“I wasn’t going to kill him,” she mumbled. “Just show him not to mess with me ever again.”

“Eutropia, not only will you likely never see him again, but nothing was stopping you from going too far, and too far you would have easily gone if I hadn’t come along.”

“I was going to walk away,” the griffin said. “I didn’t want him dead, I just... I just wanted to make sure he knew I wasn’t some weakling that he could just push around.”

Ebony sighed. “Think he learned his lesson?”

“Yeah,” Eutropia said. “Hey, wait a minute, you said I was skilled; did you really mean that?”

“Yes, I did,” the mercenary said. “For someone your age, Eutropia, you’re quite talented.”

“Is that a compliment I hear?” She asked, hiding a small, growing smile.

“I guess it is, but don’t get too cocky,” Ebony said as they continued down the road. “Like I said, you’re still young, and as such, you’ve got a long road ahead of you. You’re free to make your own choices, even your own mistakes if you like, only... I’m just trying to help you avoid some of the more dangerous ones.”

“I’ll try,” she said, sticking her head out of the carriage window.

“Which reminds me, young one,” he continued. “Stay away from alcohol.”

“What? Why is that?”

“It can impair your judgement, often severely,” he said. “I used to drown myself in the bottle after my family passed away; for a few years, at least. Even now, I can barely tolerate small amounts of it, because the temptation is always there. The same goes for you; when influenced by drink, things that you would normally never consider become much more apparent, much more available, much more... approachable.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll stay away from the drink and from fights,” she said, sounding rather amused at his concern. “I promise.”

“Good,” Ebony said, softly smiling as he looked out over the northern skyline. “It won’t be long now; only a few more days and we’ll be crossing into the lands of the Marescow, with the capital city another day or two ahead of then.”

“What’s it like? Marescow, that is?” Eutropia asked as the sun moved closer and closer towards the western horizon, the passing shadows already beginning to stretch before them.

“It’s an old city, but not near as ancient as Istanbul,” the batpony said. “Many different ponies and races have occupied the hills, mountains, forests, and plains over its time. Though it is relatively new in terms of its modern composition, as it’s been a little over two centuries since the surrounding lands were all united under the Tsars, who’d ruled barely more than Marescow about a hundred years prior. It’s really quite beautiful, especially in winter; many of the more historical buildings are absolutely picturesque when covered in a light snow.” He didn’t need to add that heavy snow was usually then right around the corner, and that the city would often have to completely dig itself out after every blizzard.

“Sounds lovely,” the griffin said. “Are the ponies there friendly?”

“Well, yes, but there are more than just ponies in those lands, my dear,” Ebony replied. “Tell me, Eutropia, have you ever met a Diamond Dog before?”

“So then she literally tossed the last one up in the air and slammed her hand across his face, sending him right into the ground,” Asalah said, regaling the others in the carriage of what she had seen. “Then she picked him up and tossed him by his friends.”

“Wow,” Trixie and Chrysalis said in unison as they snuggled next to Spike, who was just beginning to recover his energy from the walk he’d been subjected to.

“Yeah, wow,” Spike agreed. “You said you didn’t even see her throw the first one? Like it was all just an instant?”

“No, it was all just a blur to me; one thing he’s advancing on her, and the next, he’s flying through the air and landing on the road. I didn’t know she could move so quickly; she must have been out of it back in Istanbul when that guard struck her, or else she’d have probably tossed him just as quickly.”

“Must be predatory instincts,” Maria said simply. “If I remember correctly, griffins evolved from creatures that ate fish and small animals, so it stands to assume that they’d still have such a force inside of them.”

“Well, even if it is, do you think she’ll be a danger to the rest of us?” Trixie asked.

“Well, she seemed to be in control of her emotions,” Maria said. “It wasn’t like she was crying and screaming and trying to stomp on the stallion’s throat after she disarmed him or something. I think she knows what she’s doing, so we should probably give her the benefit of the doubt.”

“Plus, this is all as new to her as it is to us, if not slightly more so,” Asalah said, feeling she should keep her promise to the young griffin. “We’ve been on the road for months now, some much longer than others, but she has barely been gone from home for more than a few weeks. She’s just beginning to open up to others, myself included, so maybe we should give her some more time to adjust to us before we start making assumptions. Wasn’t it already clear that assuming something about another from the start isn’t the best thing to do?”

The others nodded solemnly; Asalah, of all of them, knew what it was liked to be nigh-shunned by a group. The mares she had come to know as near-sisters had done the same to her when she first joined them, so the fact that she was willing to stand up for this young griffin made it all the more evident that she did not wish for this sort of history to repeat itself.

“So, for the time being, give her some space, but be friendly,” Spike said, grunting softly as he shifted his legs. “Easier said than done.”

“Why is that?” Chrysalis asked.

“Well, it’s not because she’s a she, but because she is more or less going to be my trainer from now until who knows when. She said I’d be running ten miles a day, which I’m assuming if the weather permits. Besides, now that we know just what she can do, I’m not exactly looking forward to when she begins my combat training.”

“Why?” Asalah asked.

Spike winced. “If I can’t use my dragon instincts, I’m going to get my ass kicked,” he said. “On this journey so far, that’d actually be a first for me.”

“A first for our dragon,” Maria said with a small smile. “In this case, not a bad first, if you don’t mind me saying.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Well... Spike, you’ve rescued us many times so far, and from the very beginning, it feels like we’ve done so little to help, that maybe a small slice of humble pie would be good for you.”

“But... but I want to keep you all safe,” he muttered, gently placing the tip of his tail against his second wife’s stomach. “All of you.”

“I know you do, love, but really, three of your wives know how to use magic, and so far, you’ve had it come to our aid, what, three times now? Four, if we include Chrysalis summoning her personal army?”

“It’s true, Spike,” the queen said, leaning on his shoulder. “We could have helped you so many times, yet we either couldn’t, or in some cases, you specifically told us to stay out of the way. We love you, you know, and in this kind of partnership, it’s a two-way street for that sort of thing. You push, we pull, and vice versa.”

The dragon sighed; they did have a point. Many times on the journey, magic could’ve really helped them out, like when he was abducted by that vampiress: Chrysalis could have magically shoved her away and shut the windows, while Trixie could have then summoned him back to bed and magically restrained him, like what she did with him in Roam. Or when they were beset upon by those pirates: Maria could have thrown up some sort of magical shield, just in case any of the cannonballs had come too close to their quarters.

He’d really been a fool to think he could have done all of this all on his own, hadn’t he? He had been willing to risk the lives of his family, inadvertently, over some predisposition to try and solve all of their problems practically on his own. Heck, he hadn’t even been the one to break them out of prison, and he had a feeling that the reason Myrrina took his wives out of his cell had less to do with how much he begged, but because she felt pity for his family at the time.

“Okay, okay, I give up,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Whenever trouble arises, you four can help or rescue me or one another, all right? I just... I just don’t want anything bad to happen to you. I’d never forgive myself if something did. I just love you all so much.”

“It’s okay Spike, we all love you too,” Asalah said as the four of them snuggled up against their husband. “Now, I’ve been thinking...”

“A dangerous pastime,” Trixie said, earning a few giggles from Maria and Chrysalis

“Yes, yes, anyway, about Marescow... do you think the ponies Ebony knows will be friendly?”

“Oh, I think they will be,” Spike said with a smile. “Ebony said they were, and he hasn’t really done anything to lead us astray yet, so I think we should give him the benefit of the doubt.”

Author's Notes:

Well, took long enough to getting around to write this. First three or four hundred words took since the last chapter was published up until recently to be written. The rest.... meh, took a few days, as I was bored and was getting sick of playing Warband, Medieval 2 and Planetside 2 in my spare time.

A little shorter, but I really like the direction I took it, especially with Eutropia and Asalah kinda sharing a moment there. Also, yes, I know Ebony sounds a tad hypocritical, but the difference between war and a fight is that, in war, you intend to kill (or so I would assume in medieval times, especially), whereas a fight, you want to win, or at least put the hurt on the other guy. Any fight can turn into something worse with just one wrong punch, or if the falling guy lands just the wrong way on his neck: boom, stupid meaningless fight turns into murder.

That's why, as my father told me growing up, "just walk away if you can". That doesn't mean don't defend yourself: just don't be the instigator.

Anyways, hope I left you with something to think about, and more to look forward to. Mother Russia, er, I mean, the Grand Duchy of Marescow awaits!