Taylor walked down a hallway that seemed just slightly colder than the rest of the castle, led by the dark-coated guard with the booming voice from earlier, whose name he learned was Rolling Thunder.

"How appropriate."

In practically no time at all, they were standing before a set of large wooden doors. The ornate wrought iron bands that reinforced them reminded Taylor of some of the medieval architecture from his own world. Judging by the thick layer of dust and grime, he guessed these doors hadn't been opened in decades, if not centuries.

"This is the old armory. Hasn't seen the light of day since the new one went up." said Rolling Thunder gruffly.

"Cool. In we go." Taylor replied, his impatience painfully obvious.

"I hope you know what you're getting into, kid." grumbled the aging guard. His years of training and service to the Princess had mentally prepared him to deal with virtually any threat, but the existence of the Order still made him uneasy. A secret group of powerful unicorns that have been hiding out in Canterlot for hundreds of years, determined to bring back one of Equestria's most dangerous enemies - Celestia's mother, no less. It sounded far too outlandish to be true, but when it came from the mouth of the Princess herself, it was impossible to dismiss.

"I know what I intend to do. Whether or not I can do it without getting myself caught is the tricky part. I guess I'll be improvising the rest."

Rolling Thunder huffed, clearly annoyed by the nonchalant behavior of this - what did the Princess call them again? Hormones? Hymens? Something like that. It was hardly worth remembering anyhow. There were far more important things to be concerned with.

"So your plan is to walk in there with no plan? Not a very sound strategy, especially if they're as dangerous as Her Highness made them sound."

"Well, it's not like anyone else has any ideas, and only the Order knows what the inside of their little hidey-hole looks like, so it doesn't matter who goes in or what their plan is, they'd be flying just as blind as I am. I know I'm at a disadvantage, but I also know that those red-robed psychopaths took Lyra, so my goal is to rescue her," Taylor narrowed his eyes, his expression darkening, "and extract a little payback if I get the opportunity."

"That's more like it," Thunder said, cracking a smile. "It's still a pretty terrible plan, but I like that you're ready to take on the whole place by yourself. A strong fighting spirit is a respectable quality, just don't let it take control. This is strictly a rescue, so don't go looking for a fight."

With that final word, Rolling Thunder pushed hard against the door. It barely budged at first, but slowly began to give way. Satisfied that it was open far enough for them both to enter, Thunder carefully brushed away the dirt that had accumulated on his previously spotless armor.

The inside of the armory was positively vile. There was dirt caked everywhere, and untold numbers of insects, but worst of all was the smell. Taylor assumed that once the dirt had caked enough around the edges of the door, it effectively sealed the air inside, which had clearly been given more than enough time to develop into a pungent cloud. The origin ceased to be relevant once it started wafting out into the hall.

"Holy crap, I don't think there's a word to describe how nasty that room is!" Taylor exclaimed, barely suppressing a gag.

Thunder laughed, quickly realizing that it was a bad decision as he inhaled the putrid air. "Not so eager to go in anymore, are you?"

"Hell no, not without a hazmat suit and a gallon of Lysol. I think I can actually see the smell. Please tell me you have someone that you can order to do this instead. Minions, peons, underlings, anything like that?"

"I know a faster way," Thunder said, unstrapping his armor. He carefully shrugged off the polished metal plates, freeing his wings. They were large and powerful, almost unnaturally so, which Taylor figured must have been the result of years spent bearing the weight of both the massive stallion and the heavy armor he wore.

"You might want to stand away from the door," he said, gesturing to an area several yards away.

Taylor knew what was about to happen and didn't hesitate to obey, quickly moving to a safe distance. Once he was well out of range, Rolling Thunder reared back, wings extended, and in a magnificent display, swept them forward, forcing a burst of air into the room. In an instant, the years of dirt, dust, and various creatures inhabiting the room were violently expelled out of the armory in a dark plume of filth that filled the hall, covering every surface - including Thunder's coat - in centuries-old foulness.

Rolling Thunder casually shook the dirt off. "There. The armory's much cleaner than it was before."

"At the expense of the entire hall."

Both ponies recognized the voice of the Princess, turning in unison to face her. She was flanked by Twilight and Shining Armor, the latter of which levitated a decorative box much like the one containing the Elements of Harmony.

"You really should go out flying more often," Celestia mused, never losing that trademark pleasant smile of hers. "Perhaps then you wouldn't be quite so tempted to use your gift for such creative purposes."

"Yes, my Princess. My apologies." Thunder replied with a deep bow, tucking his wings tightly against his body.

Her Highness strode into the armory, followed closely by Thunder, Taylor, Twilight, and Shining Armor. It had indeed become much less disgusting, even tolerable, but it was still dark, cold, and musty. Twilight was quick to eliminate the light issue, bathing the room in a lavender glow from her horn. The place was mostly empty, with but a few decrepit wooden racks on which the weapons and armor of the Royal Guard once stood. Part of the wall had collapsed, wooden beams and stone masonry piled in the corner haphazardly. Near the rubble was what Taylor would have described as a large metal cabinet of sorts. Upon closer inspection, he found that the surface was engraved with a cascade of decorative figures, two of which stood out to Taylor. There a very obvious letter "I" - the insignia of the Inquisition - and a much less obvious depiction of an armored human holding a long axe over his head, as if about to chop at the Inquisition sigil.

"You were quick to notice it, weren't you?" Celestia commented. "Inside is the armor of the only other human to ever step foot in Equestria, and the weapon he carried with him," The Princess paused briefly, her eyes transfixed on the etched image of the human. "They were used to defeat the Scarlet Queen, and then given to me before the human departed from our world. I consider them precious artifacts, but in times such as these, I feel they would be more valuable to you in your fight."

Celestia opened the case with her magic, revealing a set of armor and the same axe depicted on the outside of the case, both in pristine condition by comparison to the rest of the room. The armor consisted of a thick chain mail hauberk, strips of metal that had been bound together into heavy vambraces, and to top it all off - literally and figuratively - a conical iron helmet with a mail aventail that covered the entire head, save for the face. The axe appeared rather plain by comparison, and had several nicks in the blade, but Taylor doubted that they would impede the weapon's performance.

"This can't be real. With the terrible luck I've had in this place so far, there's no way I'm going to get to wear this amazing-" Taylor stopped himself. "Wait a second. How exactly is that stuff going to fit me while I'm in this form?"

"It's a simple matter to undo Lyra's spell. That's why I asked you here, and why I brought this." Celestia gestured to Shining Armor, who opened the box he had been carrying. Inside were garments clearly tailored for a pony, but hastily modified to fit a bipedal creature, made of a thick and presumably durable cloth.

"It probably won't be very comfortable, but you humans seem to prefer almost anything to wearing no clothes at all, for reasons that I don't think I'll ever understand. That being said, I would advise wearing it under the armor - those metal rings have been known to pinch. Some earlier versions of the Royal Guards' armor were based on this design and they were most unpleasant without something between the armor and its wearer."

Taylor graciously accepted the pieces and quickly threw them on, eager to get back in his old body. He knew he was going to be obvious no matter what he looked like when he went in to get Lyra back, so it could only be to his advantage to do it in his own element.

"Are you ready?" Celestia asked, her horn already illuminated.

"As I'll ever be. Hit me."

The Princess lowered her head, pointing her horn at Taylor. A bright flare of energy erupted from its peak, engulfing him in an ethereal green cloud of magic. The unpleasant sensation of bone, flesh, and organs shifting into a new form made Taylor lightheaded. Fortunately, it was over quickly.

The once-again human Taylor flexed the fingers on each hand, examining every movement in detail. It was definitely all where it should be - even the scar on the back of his left hand where he had learned a valuable safety lesson about sharp kitchen utensils. He shifted his weight, noticing that the pain he had felt in his leg since his first encounter with the Order was now gone.

Celestia noted the curious look on Taylor's face. "Minor injuries sustained in a transformed state are almost completely healed by returning to your true form."

"Very cool trick," Taylor admitted. He had no idea how such a thing could happen, but he was grateful for the unimpeded use of his leg once more. "Now, I think it's time to get into that armor and find the nearest entrance to the Order's hideout. I'm suddenly feeling a lot more confident about this whole thing."

The Princess obliged, levitating the armor over piece by piece, helping Taylor put it on while the others watched silently. It was evident by how he struggled under the weight of it that he had never worn anything like it before, which made Celestia curious about what conflict was like in the human world these days. The last human to visit Equestria gladly shared tales of his conquests with her, much to her chagrin. They were often violent, bloody, and gruesome stories in which two opposing armies would butcher each other with steel and fire until one side stood as the clear winner - something which could take years of bloodshed to determine. It was extremely unpleasant to think about.

Several more minutes passed in silence, save for the rattling of the chain armor as Taylor and Celestia worked in tandem to ensure everything fit properly. Once they were both satisfied, Taylor eagerly accepted the axe, pleasantly surprised by its weight and balance. It was a very solid weapon, certainly capable of doing serious damage to an opponent even without the expertly honed blade; the shaft alone could easily be used to club someone - or more accurately somepony - unconscious with a single well-placed blow to the head.

"I almost hope I run into a few of them now." Taylor said, just a bit too enthusiastically.

"Easy, kid. Remember what we talked about. This is a rescue," Rolling Thunder reminded him. "Go in, get the girl, get out as fast as possible. Avoid fighting unless they give you no choice."

"Yeah, I know," Taylor replied, slinging the axe over his shoulder. "Well, I'm ready to get going."

The Princess turned to address Shining Armor and Rolling Thunder. "Captain, Lieutenant, please escort Taylor to the undercroft. You know where to go from there," her eyes fell on Taylor once more. "Best of luck to you. Just don't do anything reckless."

Taylor nodded. "I won't. You have my word."

Celestia knew that was a lie from the moment it was uttered, though she opted not to say anything. Taylor truly wanted to bring Lyra back, that much was unquestionable, but there was also a darker intent within him. To desire revenge was an understandable reaction to having been wronged, but it seemed Taylor intended to satisfy that desire in the most reckless way imaginable by meting out justice with a blade - just as his predecessor had done.

"Even after a thousand years, not much seems to have changed."