Chapter Fifty Six

Cordial Invitation

By the time that the land began to change; when the mountainous valleys turned into wide open plains, Spike felt as though his legs would either fall off completely, or continue to robotically walk of their own free will, not of his own volition. True to her word, Eutropia had reduced the amount of walking he had needed to do per day, but that didn’t make it any easier on him, especially since the carriages would go quite a bit faster downhill. To him, it was not so easy, not only running after them for miles on end, but slugging his way uphill at a constant rate?

That was just pure agony for the dragon.

Luckily for him, his family had offered some encouragement to keep him at as best a pace as he could, one that gave him another reason to get back to the carriage, other than sleep or food.

“Mmm, that feels good,” he moaned, laying face-down in some pillows, his four lovers gently kneading the muscles all over his body, especially those of his legs and tail, the latter because it was his natural counterweight, that, unfortunately, he never learned to use properly, thus putting him and it under far more strain. Their hands felt so good all over him, he almost couldn't feel their breasts press into him as well: almost.

“Well, if you won’t loosen up on your own, then, for your sake, it’s a good idea we help you do so,” Asalah said as she worked his calves. “Why must you make this so much harder on yourself, anyway? There is no need to run ahead of the carriages every now and then, especially since we slow down on hills now.”

“But someone’s gotta check the road ahead,” Spike muttered.

“Ebony does a fine enough job of that as it is,” Chrysalis said as her magic stroked the base of his spines. “You really need to let go of doing everything yourself and let others do things for you. You’re going to give yourself a heart attack before you turn fifty at this rate.”

“Do dragons even get heart attacks?” Trixie queried.

“This one will if he doesn’t take things down a notch,” Maria muttered, her hands kneading up and down his long tail. “Spike, you may need to get in better shape, and that’s what Eutropia’s helping you do, but I seriously doubt even you could just handle her training regime with ease. It takes years to condition one’s body for such a lifestyle, and even with what we’ve been through, these past months, you’re still nowhere near what you’d need for this to be easy.”

“I don’t want it easy, but I don’t want it impossible either,” the dragon mumbled, groaning as he felt his joints pop under his family’s firm appliance of pressure.

“Then find a happy medium that won’t leave you crippled later in life,” Chrysalis said.

“What do you suppose I do?”

“Well, as soon as we reach Marescow, you won’t be needing to run anymore, especially with the winter conditions likely preventing you from doing anymore running by itself,” Asalah said. “Eutropia said she’d then help you learn hand to hand combat or something.”

“Is she going to teach any of you stuff like that?”

“Well, maybe Asalah, but the rest of us are a bit preoccupied at the moment,” Trixie said, pointing at her belly. “Besides, three of us have been practicing magic our whole lives; what could she teach us that’d be more useful than that?”

“Maybe how to use a sword?”

“Why in the world would I need to learn how to use a sword?” The blue unicorn asked.

“Well, for starters, self-defense. With magic, you can only get so far,” Maria said. “Father did have our tutors teach us some means of self-defence, but as I grew older, my studies turned from martial to marital. Even in a rather progressive part of the country where I lived, it isn’t exactly encouraged for ladies to learn how to use swords.”

“Then again, most of them would never find themselves in the same situations we have,” Chrysalis said. “I relied on my bodyguards in my younger years, as I was too focused on other things. Still, it might be fun, for all we know.”

“If Eutropia’s involved, “fun” might not be an option,” Spike muttered, letting out a rather loud groan as two of his wives bent his legs back to stretch out his muscles. “At least when we’re there, she won’t have me running laps around the city or something.”

“Hopefully, though we can’t make any promises,” Asalah said.

“But winter’s coming,” he replied.

“True, but you’re a dragon; snow shouldn’t mean all that much to you, what with your thick scales and internal fire, and all that.”

Off in the distance, a trumpet flared, and while lifting his head up, Spike carefully watched his family’s reaction. “What is it?”

Asalah peered through the carriage’s barred windows. Far across the golden plains, a gleaming series of towers stood high over a large river. Brown buildings spread as far as the eye could see, almost like great sea of wood. Here and there, other towers thrust into the sky, their architecture so unlike that of the buildings surrounding them, it was almost jarring. “I think we’re here,” she said.

The closer they came to the city, the more apparent it became that this city was nothing like Istanbul. A large river flowed in and out of the city, lazily winding its way off into the distance. Forests seemed to crowd around and within the city, as if the trees had magically sprouted all over the place after the city was built. Its walls stretched all around the immense, sprawling city; a mixture of stone faces and wooden towers. Here and there, around the city, were huge fields that were being tended to by busy farmers, their numbers too vast to count.

“Indeed, it is a sight to behold, is it not?” A voice said, causing the zebra to look over and find Ebony’s carriage alongside their own.

“So you’ve been here before, I take it?” Asalah asked as the carriages continued on.

“Quite a few times, often as a mercenary for the Tsar,” Ebony replied with a smile. “Though, to be honest, I haven’t been exactly truthful to you all.”

“How so?” Spike asked from within the carriage.

“The lands we are entering have not been called the territory of the Grand Duchy of Marescow for quite some time,” the batpony said. “Such a title was phased out, about a generation or two ago, when the ruler handed it down to his son, in spite of the previous line of succession dictating otherwise. As of now, the ruler is still called the Tsar, but the country is called the Empire of Russia, or “Land of the Rus,” by some.”

“I guess Princess Luna’s information was out of date,” Spike replied. “She told me that it was still called the Grand Duchy. Then again, it’s been a long time since an Equestrian was this far out of the country, so it wouldn’t surprise me if other things changed along the way.”

“Such as?” It wasn’t Ebony who asked this, but Chrysalis.

“Well, for all we know, the Marengols are not a kingdom, but a republic or something. I really don’t know. Anything is possible, I guess,” he said with a shrug.

“Well, you’d all best get ready, for once we’re in the city, I’ll be taking you right to the Tsar,” Ebony said.

“Wait, you can do that?” Trixie asked. “Back in Equestria, or pretty much anywhere we’ve been so far, only special guests are allowed to meet royalty so soon, especially without arranging a meeting, beforehand.”

“Well, that’s true for here as well, but the Tsar knows me very well, as do most of the guards. But do not worry, it will not take long.”

“Not take long?” Spike asked as the batpony sat atop the carriage, waiting for the roads to the palace to clear up. He was trying to be serious, but the small grin on his face meant that he was anything but.

“I said I was sorry,” Ebony replied with a chuckle, shaking his head. “I forgot today was the anniversary of the transition from the Grand Duchy to the Empire of Russia. If I had remembered, then maybe I would have taken a different route into the city, but now...”

“Now we’ll just have to wait for the parade to pass through,” the dragon said, looking over to his family. While Trixie had inclined to stay in the carriage for the time being, the others had dressed in warmer clothes, and were sitting atop their own carriage, watching the great spectacle pass by.

Soldiers marched down the streets, some waving banners and flags whilst others played many strange and wonderful instruments in sync. All were dressed in their finest armors and uniforms, some wearing simple, yet elegant, padded leather, and others covered head to toe with shining metal plates. All around, weapons were sheathed or hoisted, depending on the position in the long procession, with the colors of the state trailing high above them. Then, from off in the distance, a blast of trumpets sounded, and as the procession continued, atop a large platform, pulled by several carriages in the middle of it all, sat the Tsar and Tsarina of Russia.

A handsome, hazel-colored stallion, with a well-kempt moustache and beard adoring his smiling face, he wore a most splendid uniform, complete with medals, golden tassels, and countless insignia. Around his shoulders was draped a large cloak of purest white with a golden inner lining and bright scarlet trimmings. Atop his head sat a crown, but unlike any crown that Spike had ever seen in Equestria, it was shaped almost like a helmet, only far more decorated and likely trimmed with only the finest of silks. In one hand, he held aloft a large scepter, a double-headed eagle, serving as the crest, atop the golden, gilded staff. His other hand, however, was currently entwined with his wife’s, and as Spike watched them pass, he could not help but gaze upon her in amazement.

The Tsarina was anything but plain, with a radiant beauty that seemed to sparkle in the sunlight, just as her pearl necklaces and jewel-laden silver crown did. Her dress was an immaculate white, like the freshest of snow, as was her cream-colored pelt. Golden threads held it all together, with inlaid jewels spanning up and down the fine materials, yet all of this was secondary to what drew Spike’s eyes the most.

The Tsarina’s own. They were blue as a cloudless, midday sky; they seemed to survey the crowd with a connectedness he has only been seen before by Princess Celestia. It was as if she not only knew each and every subject under her rule, but was mentally familiarizing herself with their faces every time she gazed upon them. Every smile, every wave, every gesture was the picture of nobility and kindness, and when she looked into her husband’s eyes, Spike saw something he had thought he’d only seen in his own family’s gazes.

Love; the kind of love that transcended mere physical distance and attraction. It was the kind of love that he was lucky enough to receive not once, not twice, but four times over. And yet, this felt different. It was obvious, from the way they held each other’s hands, that they had known each other for several years before being married, and yet he had no idea as to when that was, or how they apparently felt so strongly about the other, so that their hands seemed fused together.

He would have to ask them when they met, if they allowed for such talk, that is. He loved his wives dearly, but the way these two looked at each other, it was evident that their love had stayed the same, if not grown even stronger, as time passed after their union. Spike found himself lucky to be a witness to such a thing: a mare with many of the same qualities as Princess Celestia, herself, only sharing them with a stallion she so obviously loved.

As the two passed by, the Tsarina absentmindedly waved in the direction of their carriages, Spike could only wonder if this was what Celestia would’ve been like if she found someone to marry; found a stallion to love her; to be with her for all her life; to rule alongside, and share in all of life’s miseries and triumphs. Yet, he knew of no stallion that would’ve been able to live long enough to be with Celestia, let alone approach and court her, and he hadn’t even heard of there being an alicorn stallion before, so... why hadn’t she settled down, even once? Was she truly married to the kingdom she protected as much as she ruled? Or was there something else to it; something deeper; something that he just didn’t know about?

“Probably,” he muttered, turning to Ebony as the rulers continued on. “Hey, Ebony, can I ask you a question?”

“Are you not, right now?” He replied.

“You know what I mean.”

“Go on, then. Ask away.”

“For meeting the Tsar and the Tsarina... are there any special protocols I should know about? Any particular customs that I should have a heads-up on?”

“None, other than being polite and not interrupting them while they speak. Why do you ask?” The batpony queried.

“Well, see, when I arrived in Agrabah, I didn’t know any of the local customs, and after getting drunk one night, I ended up stumbling into what I thought was a spare bed, only to find myself waking up in Asalah’s room. Turns out that it’s customary for a guest to sleep in the same room as the one they wish to marry, and in this case, it was the sultan’s daughter, and the guy was only too happy to put us together.”

“Really, now?” Ebony asked. “While I am not surprised about the sultan wishing to marry off his daughter, it does strike me odd that such a custom exists, and that you just so happened to... “fall for it”, as they say.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, everything turned out great,” Spike said. “I love Asalah, and she loves me back. The others... took some time to smooth out the problems between them, but now they’re very close friends.”

“I see.”

“The other reason is, well, back in Baghdad, I was told that dragons weren’t all that welcome in Istanbul. I didn’t think much of it, other than to disguise ourselves, but you heard how that turned out,” the dragon said, shaking his head. “That last one was just too close a call for my family. The uncertainty; the danger; the possibility of losing each other or one of the foals... I can’t put them through that again. I can’t put me through that again.”

“Sounds like guilt, to me,” Ebony said. “Spike, we all feel guilty about things, but you’re beating yourself up a bit too much about it.”

“What?”

“Well, only a little bit. It’s not healthy to just write off everything bad that happens to you as part of bad luck, sometimes you have to take account of what led you to that part in your life and make peace with it. Just... not too harshly, okay? I told you about how hard things were for me after my family’s passing, and I don’t want you going down that same road. It’s a long and lonely one, and was very hard to get off, for a normal guy like me. But you, a dragon? I’d imagine it’d be an even longer and lonelier road.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Spike said. “All I know is that, for the remainder of this trip, I just want my family to be safe.”

“A goal anyone would strive for, should they find themselves in a situation like your own,” the batpony replied, looking out over the crowds. The minute the last of the royal procession passed, everyone returned to normal, moving this way and that, as they went about their usual daily routine. That was one of the things Ebony liked about Russia: very pragmatic, and often very adaptable to whatever was thrown in its way. “Come, the parade should finish soon enough, and I do not wish to simply dump you in the Tsar’s lap without proper introductions or farewells.”

“Aim to make good time getting back home?” The dragon asked, cracking a grin.

“You might say that,” the batpony replied with a smile of his own. “Home; it sounds rather odd to say it, considering that this will be the first time in many years that I’ll actually stay there, likely for good.”

“What will you do for work?” Spike asked.

“Oh, maybe be a drill instructor for the local militias, or perhaps start up an orchard. I’ve been meaning to expand the stone walls around the yard a bit to include one, but never really had the time to do so. But now that Bakhtak more or less encouraged me to retire from mercenary work, I’m really not sure what to do anymore.”

“Except be with her, right?”

“Right. Come now, let’s get everyone ready.”

As Spike helped his family out of the carriage, he couldn’t believe it, himself. The Tsar’s palace looked more like a low-lying fortress than the residence of a ruler, yet it was nowhere near as foreboding as Husam’s, back in Saddle Arabia. It was more practical, more at ease with the landscape around it, with trees lining many gardens and a small pond in the front. Yet, the few towers that did rise above the structure were squat, with rather wide bases and tapering upper floors.

“It’s for the wind,” Ebony said, following Spike’s gaze. “Especially in winter, the winds and the driving snow can collapse towers of a more slender nature, hence the more robust designs of these. That’s also why most of the buildings in the city are as short as they are.”

“I see,” the dragon muttered. Come to think of it, that did make quite a bit of sense: the city was situated on a large floodplain with nothing substantial to block the wind for many miles in any direction. He could only imagine how fierce the deep winter winds could get, especially if they weren’t the kind they could control, like back in Ponyville.

Ponyville; it seemed so far away from him now, in both body and spirit. The vast miles of land and ocean separating him from the place he’s lived for a good portion of his life. Come to think of it, he wouldn’t even be staying in Ponyville when he got back to Equestria: by then, the castle additions would probably be done, and that’d be where he and his family would stay.

It felt so strange to think about home. Here he was, only about halfway through his journey, several months in, and it felt like it’s been many years. All that he’s seen, all that he’s done, all that he’s been a part of... it was all still so vivid, and yet strangely, compressed. It was as if he’s been a part of it all in a much shorter time than he had been.

Following Ebony up the massive palace steps, Spike, his family, and Eutropia watched as several guards approached the group, their weapons cautiously gripped in their hands.

“What is your purpose for visiting the Tsar?” One said, his regalia signifying him to be the rank of a captain.

“Tell them that Ebony Blade is here to see them,” the batpony said. “With guests, of course.”

Nodding, the captain motioned for another guard, who then marched off as quickly as he could. “You know protocol, Ebony. Nobody enters the palace without the say-so from the Tsar, or his wife. The servants will bring you your luggage after you’ve entered.” As if on queue, a pair of stout stallions walked past them and to their carriage.

“I know, Dimitri,” Ebony replied. “How’s the family?”

“Good, good,” the guard said. “Little Pyotr is already walking, and his sister just said her first word. Wife’s good, but tired from tending the fields. We’re hoping winter won’t be as bad as last year. Anything new with yourself?”

“Not much, just considering retirement,” the batpony replied. “Finally settling down again, hopefully for good, this time.”

“Ah, good for you. I knew you’d find somepony again,” Captain Dimitri said, noticing the ones following him. “Friends of yours?”

“You could say that,” Ebony said, motioning towards them. “This is Spike and his family. They’re on a journey of sorts, and needed my services for a portion of it. Oh, and this young griffin is Eutropia,” he added.

“Pleased to meet you,” Spike said, his wives giving simple bows and Eutropia nodding her head in acknowledgement. “We’ve been with Ebony since Istanbul.”

“Ah, I heard there was trouble down that way,” the captain said. “You didn’t have anything to do with it, did you?”

Spike blinked. “Umm...”

Dimitri laughed, earning confused looks from them all. “Here I thought I’d never meet a dragon before, and I just so happen to meet the first one in living memory to pass through Istanbul, alive. I’d buy you a drink, if not for the fact that I know dragon’s can’t handle fruit-based alcohol.”

“How did you know that?” Asalah asked.

“Well, here in Russia, many areas have very short growing seasons,” the captain explained. “As such, we grow everything we can, and, more often than not, what grows fastest usually lasts the shortest through the winter. So, we make it into alcohol, which preserves it for far longer than mere salt or drying would. And as you know, in Russia, we do have dragons, including the great ice dragons along the northern coasts, and some of their offsprings can, occasionally, make their way into big cities, which can be a blessing in hot summers. And because of that, it quickly became common knowledge that dragons and fruit-based alcohols do not mix. That is one of the reasons we make vodka: because dragons can handle it.”

The guard from before returned, bowing to everyone before facing his captain. “They are allowed to enter.”

“Excellent,” Ebony said, giving the stallion a nod of thanks. “Come, everyone. We mustn’t keep them waiting.”

Before long, they were waiting at the doors to the palace, which were a sight to behold, themselves. Massive slabs of oak that took three guards to swing even one open, and only just enough for them to walk inside. Once there, everyone but Ebony nearly stopped in their tracks, amazed by what they saw.

The halls of the palace were glittered with drapes, curtains, and rugs of the richest scarlet they’ve ever seen. Silver chandeliers twinkled in the light from the large windows, their multifaceted surfaces sending cascading hues of light all over the place. Large painting hung on the walls, many of them likely belonging to Tsars of long ago. Yet, it was not these things that drew Spike’s attention the most as they walked, but what seemed to cover most of the interior.

Amber: a golden, shiny stone, the fossilized residue from trees millions of years ago. Polished to a sheen that seemed to give off its own light, like the surface of a miniature sun, inlaid into seemingly every possible corner it could be: from small statues to the smaller chandeliers, to the curtains, tapestries, and even a ceremonial suit of armor or two, standing off to the side. It crested tables, hung from chairs like dewdrops, even graced the outlines of doorways and door handles.

“Magnificent, is it not?” A mildly baritone voice said, causing the group to look away from the fanciful golden jewelry and, instead, towards the center of the room.

There stood the Tsar, still dressed in the uniform he’d worn in the parade. Though the large cloak, the scepter, and the crown were not there, he still carried with him an aura of authority, the likes of which Spike had not seen in previous encounters with nobility. This was a stallion born to a throne, yet he seemed far more down to earth than, say, Asalah’s father. The warm smile from under his short beard and moustache, the small wrinkles around his caring eyes, the way his posture seemed to exude welcome and comfort: he was amazing.

Spike and the others bowed, Ebony included. “It is good to see you again, your majesty,” Ebony announced.

“Likewise, Ebony Blade,” the Tsar replied, turning to the batpony’s companions. “I am Nikolai Alexandrovich Romanov, though you may simply call me Nicholas. It is with great pride and humility that I welcome you all to my home. Please, if you’ll follow me, I will show you to your quarters.”

“The Tsar is going to be our guide?” Trixie whispered, astounded at the stallion’s informality. “I’ve never heard of such a thing, before.”

“Better him than I,” Ebony whispered back, before turning to the noble stallion. “Then this is where I must bid my companions farewell, your majesty,” he said. “I have been given a new chance at a life off of the battlefield, and, this time, I wish to return home for good.”

“Then you may leave, Ebony Blade,” the tsar said with a small bow of his own. “If you should ever find yourself in Marescow, do not hesitate to drop by for a visit. Our home is always open to an old friend, such as yourself.”

“Goodbye, all,” Ebony said, shaking hands with Spike and his family. “Perhaps, one day, we might meet again.”

“I’d like that,” Spike said with a smile. “If you and Bakhtak are ever in Equestria, for some reason, or feel like visiting, just write ahead, so we can make some arrangements.”

“That I will,” the stallion replied, turning to Eutropia at last.

“So, we’re going back?” She asked.

“No, Eutropia. This is where you and I part ways,” Ebony said simply. “I have fulfilled my end of the deal; your mother’s wishes have been completed. You are safe and far from the lands of the Ottomare Empire, and can only journey farther away.”

“So, what? You’re just going to abandon me in Russia?”

“No, my dear. I am not abandoning you,” he replied. “You will be staying with Spike and his family. You still have to train him, remember? Call me crazy, but I think he’s going to need all the help he can get in the near future. I’m going to rely on you to help him see this journey of his through. Who knows? Maybe you’ll like Equestria if you stick around long enough for that.”

“Okay, fine, I’ll stay with the dragon,” she said. “But if I don’t like it, I’m coming straight back to Transylmania and moving in with you, no matter what Bakhtak says. Got it?”

“I’ll let her know to keep a spare bed ready, just in case,” the batpony replied. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I-”

He was cut off by the young griffin pulling him into a powerful, yet brief, hug. Sniffling slightly, her composure temporarily derailed, Eutropia wiped the corner of her eye and brushed past him. With a small smile on his face, and a nod in Spike’s direction, the batpony left them behind, off towards home, once again.

As soon as the door closed behind Ebony, the Tsar turned to look at his guests. “Follow me please,” he said. “The Tsarina will be expecting you for supper, so I’d suggest we get you all settled in as soon as we can.”

“Thank you, your highness,” Chrysalis said as they walked down the bejeweled halls. “The journey’s been very long for all of us,” she added, gently patting her stomach.

“Just how far have you all come?” Nicholas asked. “Ebony did inform me in his letter that several of you are from Equestria, is that not correct? That is quite a world away.”

“Trixie, Chrysalis, and myself, yes,” Spike said, motioning to each of them as he said their names. “While Asalah’s from northern Africa, Maria’s from Spreign, and Eutropia’s from the Ottomare Empire.”

“A very varied group of travelers, I must say,” the tsar chuckled. “Tell me, Spike the dragon, is it true that you have come all this way just to learn about my country, and to pass on such knowledge to your fellow Equestrians back home?”

“You might say that,” the dragon said simply. “There’s so much we don’t know about countries so far from our borders, like Russia for instance. In fact, Princess Luna still referred to it as the Grand Duchy of Marescow, a name Ebony Blade told me was several generations out of date.”

“Ah, then it is good that you are here, so as to correct such oversights,” Nicholas said as they entered a large room. “These will be your quarters for the time being. I trust they will be to your liking during your stay in my palace. Also, there is a small side-room for you as well, Miss Eutropia.” They all saw the large bed in the corner, that could’ve easily held nine slumbering guests, and the fireplace against the main wall roared with a flickering flame behind the metal grate. Yet, the room itself was not just a bed, but something much beyond that. The curtains were wide open on the sizable windows, overlooking the royal gardens and ponds, with another building, one covered in opaque glass, nestled amongst the bare trees. The floor was solid marble, likely cold to the touch, but it was offset by many rugs, some of them thick and woolly. What little furniture in the room, itself, was limited to an intricate writing desk, several highly-decorated chairs that sat near the fireplace, and a small glass table between them, likely a place to set drinks. It was a cozy room, or at least as cozy as a room built for royal guests could be.

Looking up, Spike thought that the silver chandelier, fitted with emeralds and amber teardrops, was a little much, but hey, this would be the first real bed he’s slept in since they left Ebony’s home. That, and they didn’t need to leave for a while now, so they’d actually get a chance to rest for quite some time. He was definitely looking forward to that. “Thank you, your highness,” he said.

“Then I will leave you to your own devices, for the time being, anyway,” the tsar said with a smile. “When supper is ready, one of the servants will come and get you. If you have need for any clothes, simply ask one of the maids, and they will see if they can find something in your sizes. I apologize in advance for any ill-fitting clothes you come across, as quite a few of our other distinguished guests are often rather frail.” With that, the Tsar left them alone, gently closing the door behind him.

“I like him,” Maria said immediately. “He seems really nice.”

“I agree,” Asalah said. “It’s not every day that you meet a ruler of a country that invites you into his home, and guides you to your room like he’s a simple innkeeper. He’s a humble stallion, I’ll give him that.”

“Kinda reminds me of you, Spike,” Trixie said as she moved some of their luggage around. The captain wasn’t kidding; those servants likely brought their cases here before they even turned to walk down the corridor. “Only you’re far more handsome,” she added with a giggle.

“I don’t know, he was really pulling off the bearded and moustached look,” the dragon said, wiping his chin where hair would grow if he was a mammal. “Anyways, what do you all want to do first? Supper isn’t for several hours yet, and-,”

His four wives slumped immediately onto the bed, stretching themselves out after such a long and tightly-packed journey in the carriage.

“Okay,” he said. “Eutropia, what about you?”

“I’m going to check out my own room,” she said, turning away from him. “If you need anything, you’ll know where to find me.”

Spike simply shrugged and went over to his luggage as she left the room, his mind roaming back to earlier, on the steps up to the palace. It’s been a good week since he’d written home, and they hadn’t replied back yet. “Probably busy,” he thought, rummaging around in his bag. Finding what he was looking for, retrieving the small journal from within, magically enhanced by the clerk Ebony bought it from, containing far more pages than any normal journal could hold. Thankfully, the mercenary said it would retain its size and left, no matter how much he wrote. Good thing, too: all of his other journals, along with pretty much everything else they owned, was still somewhere in the archives of Istanbul, likely to be forgotten by the bureaucracy for the foreseeable future.

Walking over to the sizable writing desk, he opened a drawer to find a bottle of ink and a quill. Sitting himself down as his family began to pull out and away their own clothes, he began to write.

“The journey’s been long, from Transylmania to Russia, but it was a rather pleasant one,” he began, pausing every now and then to look out the window. Snow was not yet here, it would seem, but he hoped to be on the road as soon as they were done resting here. It wouldn’t do them any good to try and set out immediately, and right now, he had a feeling that his wives might staunchly support staying for a while. “The Tsar seems like a good fellow, friendly and courteous. We’re staying in his palace for the next few weeks, in order to relax and regain both our wits and our strength for the journey ahead.”

Spike paused. “Ebony Blade left us in the Tsar’s care, having fulfilled his role as our protector and escort from the lands of the Ottomare Empire, and is now setting out to return to his home, where I wish him peace and happiness for the rest of his days. As per his request, and her somewhat reluctant acceptance, Eutropia the griffin will be staying with us for the foreseeable future. The main reason for this is that she will be training me in the ways of self-defense, so that I may not need to resort to using my heritage in such dire situations. “A crutch”, I believe she called it, once. Either way, it seems that it’ll be from her own heritage that I’ll be drawing experience from, now.”

He turned the page. “Having come this far into the journey, I can only hope that the progress we’ve made will better Equestria. I’ve seen a great many and wondrous things in my travels so far, and hope to see more in the future. Yet, some part of me is doubtful of this entire endeavor, if only because it hasn’t been as safe as I would’ve hoped. Perhaps it’s because trouble always seems to find a way to track me and my family down, whether we’re on the road or staying in someone’s home. It hasn't been easy, and there have been several close calls in these past few months, but everypony is taking it well, a lot better than I would’ve expected.”

Spike smiled, glancing over to his wives as they unpacked and sorted their clothes, talking about which ones they could wear to dinner. “Since we left New Wingdah behind, when I haven’t been outside building up my endurance under Eutropia’s training, I’ve been spending time in the carriage Lady Fyrefly gave us. We’ve spent most of our time just talking about the future and what’ll happen when we reach Canterlot many months from now, an end to this already long journey. Still, there is much more of it yet to traverse, so we are limited in what we can do if we are to make good time wherever we go.”

Flipping the page, he continued. “While she hasn’t been very talkative as of recently, likely due to her constantly writing back to her parents, Maria has been a very comforting presence among us, often going to great lengths to soothe our worries with simple things, like hugs and soft singing. It’s actually quite nice. She’s also been rather adamant about having me name our first foal together, even after I insisted that she should have a say as well. In the end, we compromised: I’ll name them if they’re a colt, and she’ll name them if they’re a filly. We really have no way of knowing which it will be, as it’s still far too early in the pregnancy to tell. Luckily, her cravings have subsided, as have the others, but, for the time being, she’s often a bit sad in the mornings, being so far from home, as we all are. She says that it’s all just hormones, but I can tell she misses her family. I told her we’d invite her parents to Canterlot for the foal’s birth, if not sooner. That really cheered her up. I’m not sure how we’d manage to have her brothers and sisters come along as well, but I can see us visiting them all some time afterwards, when the foal is fit enough to travel. Maybe then we’ll take ask Celestia if we can use a flying carriage instead of a ship: I bet it would be quicker that way.”

The dragon turned to a new page. “Chrysalis has been much more active in telling the others, myself included, about her homeland and the history of her kind. It’s kind of hard to believe her when she said that changelings arose from a cross between a male unicorn and the queen of a now-extinct species of giant, underground-dwelling sapient wasps. Over the millennia, of course, they’ve slowly taken on new characteristics from each new queen’s father: earth pony strength, pegasus flight, and bits and pieces of numerous other creatures to get better and more adaptable traits. She said that she’s often half-awake when the rest of us are asleep, mentally communicating with some of her advisors on the status of her kingdom. Apparently there have been some recent developments with the newest generation, but she told us that it was nothing to worry about. Still, if what she said about the inheritance passing into the rest of the populace, I can only imagine what might become of the species, now that a royal heir of dragon blood is on the way. She’s also talked a bit about how, within days of being born, our foal will have to be coronated as the new heir to her throne, something involving the gathering of every changeling in the government, as well as the armed forces and a substantial portion of the civilian population. I can only hope that goes over well.”

“Trixie’s been surprisingly upbeat about everything that’s happened so far,” Spike wrote, dipping his quill in the ink fountain. “While I cannot bring myself to try and remind how dire some our situations have been at points, I can only pray her cheerfulness remains intact for as much of the journey as possible. It’s quite infectious, almost in a Pinkie Pie-like manner, and, some days, it’s hard to be sad when she’s around. Then again, like Maria, she’s been pretty gung-ho about naming the foal she carries in her belly. I told her that the naming should be done at birth, not beforehand, as it’d be pretty embarrassing to arrange a name for a colt, and then to have a little filly pop out instead. However, we agreed that we’d name the foal what she desired. I don’t want to make all the decision in their lives, after all. We’re a family, and family makes decisions like this together. Yet, I feel that this may be a point of contention between her and her parents, seeing that she hasn’t seen them in years, and I doubt they know about our marriage, let alone the grandfoal she’s carrying. But we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, as she's told me telling them by way of a letter would go over worse than telling them in person.”

He paused, unsure if he should include some more information about Eutropia after he finished Asalah’s portion. “Maybe some other time, after we’ve all gotten to know her a bit more,” he muttered, turning the page. “Writing anything now would just be guesswork; mostly, anyway.”

Spike continued. “Asalah’s been fairly quiet recently, only speaking when spoken to. She hasn’t said why, but I believe it may have something to do with the events in Transylmania. When I was... under the spell of the vampiress, I saw both Lady Bathory and Lady Fyrefly as Asalah. Why? I don’t know, but it might have been because I love her so dearly, and that she remains the only one of my family that’s not expecting, which would’ve been much harder, I assume, to duplicate. I can tell it weighs on her mind from time to time, both what I saw and why it was her form that was chosen. She thinks I didn’t notice it in the carriage: the way she looked at all the others’ bellies, but I did notice. She’s almost assuredly going to conceive when her estrus comes around again, though we can’t say when that will be, for sure. Hers ended many months before we married, and while I don’t think, for a minute, that she’s jealous, I do believe that she wishes we met sooner, and thus had more of a chance of her conceiving. Whether it’s an innate byproduct of her father’s insistence that she marry and bear her husband many foals, or maybe just her being surrounded by all this new life, and wishing to feel the same way, I do not know. I do know one thing, however: the minute she enters her heat, I will likely be very... busy.”

He smiled at that last part, slowly putting the quill and ink away. He really would have to write more entries like this, but for now, that was good enough. Supper wouldn’t be ready for some time, and as such, the dragon realized he didn’t have much to wear. “Trixie?”

“Yes, Spike?” She replied.

“Do you have a moment to spare? I don’t think any of the clothes I have are good enough to dine with royalty, and I was wondering if you could flag down one of the maids to tell them that.”

“Why don’t you?” Maria asked as she finished folding what few clothes she had.

“Well, they’re used to unicorns, earth ponies, and pegasi, but several of us are probably something these palace maids have likely never seen before,” Spike said, motioning to Chrysalis, himself and Asalah. “I’d just like to try and get some clothes without scaring some poor mare half to death by stepping out from around a corner.”

“I’ll get to it then, but you owe me,” Trixie replied, straightening out her mane. “In the meantime, you be sure to help everypony else find something that fits them.”

Most other stallions would’ve likely groaned at that, or at least tried to get out of it for some reason or another. After all, playing dress-up with some mares was often a hassle and a half, as it had been for him in his younger years. Whenever Twilight needed something to wear to a conference or a party, he was right there to help here, often bored out of his skull. But, unlike all those other stallions, who’d complain every second they could, he was like the other lot that did the exact opposite. Spike simply looked over at his three other wives; his three beautiful, sexy, gorgeous mares, whom he would do anything for, and who would likely do that same for him...

“Okay,” he said.

Author's Notes:

Well, welcome to Mother Russia! Also, so long Ebony Blade, and thank you for being a part of the story.

This will be an enjoyable arc, personally, and this is just proof that I have been working on this instead of publishing it right away.