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WW1 Ace Anon: CH3

By: WiseWisp on Apr 20th, 2013 | syntax: None | size: 44.84 KB | hits: 41 | expires: Never

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>Far from that clear, back to a now familiar meetings chamber, the upper ranks of the Pegasi Junta try to make their Commander see reason.
>”A reconnaissance mission? Based on what evidence?”
>”You must be joking, commander!”
>”It can’t be!”
>”I assure, all of you, that there’s no cause for alarm”, Commander Hurricane replies in a calm manner that makes all of its subordinates fall silent, “All we’re doing here is taking preventive measures”
>”And I’m ok with that”, sub-commander Darkshine replies, ”It’s just that… it’s ridiculous”
>”Sub-commander, let me ask you one thing”
>”Yes, commander?”
>”If you were to see something like the thing those four guardsp0nies described, what would you do?”
>”Commander, there’s no such thing as the gu-“
>”IF you were, Darkshine”, Hurricane interrupts him, “this is an exercise of imagination, after all. So, what would you do, Steelwind, if you were a simple guardsp0ny and saw this “flying metal monstrosity”?
>”Well, I… eh, I’d…”
>”You’d inform immediately your superiors, I presume”, Hurricane finishes the sentence for him.
>”Yes! Yes, of course, my liege!”, Darkshine hastily says.
>”Despite the risk of being ridiculed”, she continues.
>”Ah…”
>”Because the safety of our people is more important than personal fame and promotions, isn’t it, Darkshine?”
>”Well, ye-”
>”Do you then think that those recruits did that just because of a stupid and senseless prank?”, Hurricane shakes her head.
>”But you heard them!”, corporal Steelwind comes to the sub-commander’s aid, “How could we give credit to… that kind of a report?”
>”I know it sounds ridiculous, but all of you must admit that there’s a considerable chance that those guardsp0nies are telling the truth”
>”…alright, commander, but-“
>”It’s all practical sense”, Hurricane looks at each of the assembled pegasi, “If the guardsp0nies are simply lying to us, then sending them on a recon mission far away, chasing after the ghosts they made up, would be a very suitable punishment, don’t you think?”
>The officers nod in silent approval.
>”But then, would you rather prefer to not send them away and risk the safety of our people because we feel confident in the odds that they’re just messing with us?”, Hurricane’s voice suddenly sounds like wind blowing upon an unsheathed blade, “If the monstrosity truly exists, we cannot afford to let it roam free without at least trying to monitor its movements. Who knows what these Hooflites truly saw?”
>The officers reluctantly nod, finally seeing the reason in their Commander’s words.
>”We can’t afford to let any loose ends in what could well be a matter of national security”
>Corporal Steelwind looks ready to reply, but a single glare from the commander convinces him that contradicting Hurricane would be a really bad idea.
>”I bid you all good night”
>The officers stand up and salute as commander Hurricane dons her crested helmet and leaves the meetings chamber. She then walks along the corridors of the Junta Palace, up in the cloud city of Skye.
>On one of the multiple intersections between passages, another figure joins the commander in her nocturnal walk.
>A private in dark armor, with a wide combed morion helmet covering the head.
>”Good night, Pansy”
>”My liege”, the mare bows before resuming its walk, “Any news?”
>”They finally saw reason, as it was expected”, Hurricane sighs with relief, “It didn’t take long to convince them”
>”I see, my liege”
>”Pansy, tomorrow morning you are to go to the barracks and find guardsp0nies Cloudtamer, Thunderslide, Nightgale and Skyranger. You’re going on a reconnaissance mission with them towards the village of Trottingheim”
>”Understood, commander”
>”You are to stay alert at all times, and search, both on the ground and the air, for anything out of the ordinary”
>”So we’re after the…”metal thing” the guards saw”
>”Yes, Pansy”, Hurricane smiles, “It looks like I’m sending you to carry on a senseless task, doesn’t it?”
>”Well…”
>”You may speak freely, Pansy”
>”It looks like it, commander… but I won’t doubt your orders…” , Pansy seems at deep think for a moment, “Still…”
>”Yes, Pansy?”
>”I know that you trust these guards, but it looks like… that there’s more behind your decision to send us on reconnaissance, commander, than these soldiers’ tale”
>Hurricane turns to Pansy and cracks a smile.
>”Quick as a whip, Pansy. You never disappoint me”, Hurricane sighs, “Indeed, there’s more than that”
>Hurricane stops for a moment, checks out the surrounding corridor area, looking for hidden eavesdroppers, and then whispers.
>”A message was received, Pansy… from the Bearded”
>”The Bearded!”, Pansy’s green eyes go wide in amazement, “How strange… Princess Platinum’s Court doesn’t normally send any messages this time of the year”
>”The message was from the Bearded himself, not from him as a representative of the Princedom”
>Now Pansy looks truly surprised.
>”What did it say, my liege?”, Pansy then adds, “If I’m allowed to know… that is”
>”The message was cryptic, as expected from a sorcerer’s, but it spoke of disturbances, Pansy…”
>”Disturbances?”
>”Strange fluxes of dark energy and magic flowing across the land… I didn’t understand much of it, but the Bearded mentioned an ominous presence approaching. Of its intentions, he doesn’t know, but the sorcerer thinks that, whatever these are, can’t mean any good to p0nies, be they pegasi, unicorns or earth p0nies”
>”I see, but…”, Pansy comments, “What if it’s all a trick? The Bearded is a unicorn wizard, after all”
>”I know, Pansy, but he’s a different kind of sorcerer... almost trustable, I’d say. Anyone who has met him personally knows that. The message itself said that these concerns were also shared in Court with Princess Platinum and that a similar missive was sent to Chancellor Puddinghead of the Republic, so I don’t think he was lying at all. Besides, the Bearded’s days are coming to an end. What could he gain from this, being as he is at the gates of death?”
>”Umm… so, do you think that these fluxes and… presences mentioned by the Bearded have anything to do with that report and sighting from those four guards?”
>”I don’t know, Pansy, I simply don’t know”, Hurricane taps her private’s withers with a hoof, “That’s why I’m sending you on this mission. Be ready to part at morning and take those four with you. They’ll help you recognize whatever you’re looking for”
>”Understood, commander”, Pansy salutes, “We won’t let you down”
>”I know, Pansy, I know”
>And the morning cometh.
>The sunlight falling flat on your face wakes you up.
>You groan and rub your eyes.
>You are in a small room with stone walls and an open window.
>You are also on top of a large pile of straw, with a sort of blanket thrown on you and with your pilot gear still on.
>You remember going for a one-night stay at the inn… apart from that, yesterday’s a bit of a blur. A little too much drinking, perhaps.
>Hangovers can suck.
>But what could you do? Turn down all those good p0ny and griffin fellows that were offering you drinks? No, it’d have been impolite.
>You have expected them to be afraid after your little brawl with Leopold and his bastards, but, hell no, they even wanted to pay your drinks for that.
>Looks like the griffins weren’t much appreciated around here.
>Not much of a surprise, given what little you’ve seen of them.
>As for your gun, the medieval-thinking creatures called it a “magic stick”. You decided it was best not to contradict them. It wouldn’t pay off, really.
>You groggily stand up, put the blanket aside and check your pocket watch. It says it’s seven in the morning.
>You then slowly make it for the room’s door and step through into the inn’s main room, now empty at this time of the mor-oh, there’s the minotaurs back there, still in the shadowed corner at the back.
>”Good morning, Lord Anonymous”
>The bartender, whom you now know as Grainseed, happily trots up to you.
“Morning there”
>”Would you like something to eat, milord?”
“Yes, please”, you say before taking a seat at the nearest table.
>Grainseed comes back with a bowl held in his mouth which she settles on your table, then goes through a door behind the bar and comes back with a steaming pot.
>She somehow manages to use a spoon and pours what appears to be some broth of veggies in the bowl. You thank her and cup the recipient in your hands and drink, careful not to let the liquid or your lips touch the part of the bowl that was in Grainseed’s mouth.
>The hot liquid burning down your throat helps to dissipate what little dizziness was left from the hangover. You are thankful for that, but the odd texture and taste of the mixture doesn’t sit quite well with you, although it isn’t as bad as the meals you are used to have back at Saint Omer’s base.
“Excuse, Mrs. Grainseed, what exactly is this?”
>”It’s hay soup with some spices and herbs, milord”
>Hay soup. You just ate hay soup.
>Hay.
>”It’s there any problem? Would you like something else? I don’t have much, but…”
“The soup is fine, thank you. I was… just curious”
>You prefer to be polite and finish the rest of the soup, although you know your stomach is gonna regret this latter.
>Then while you are gulping down the soup, you hear a whistle at your back.
>You pay it no mind, but the whistle comes back, then whoever is trying to get your attention loses its patience.
>”E-HEM”
>You turn your head towards the minotaurs and one of them grunts and signals you to come.
>You cautiously stand up and make your way towards the group; wondering what they might want to do with you.
>Then one of the minotaurs opens a window nearby, making light pour over them and you are able to see them properly for the first time.
>You’ve never seen a more threatening collection of muscles in your whole life, and there must be seven or eight of them.
>Their dark blue-furred bodies standing on massive hooved legs, those hands that look capable of squeezing watermelons, the sharp horns and the impressive collection of swords, axes and knives that hang by their backs and waists… these details do little to calm you down as you approach them.
>Their bovine faces look up at you, some of them grinning, some of them calmly observing, as if their owners were examining you.
>The creature at the center of the group, with his fur of a greyer tone than its comrades’, a bronze ring embedded in its nose, stands up and looks down at you. You hold its gaze for a few seconds before it speaks in a grave and resounding voice.
>”Morning”
“Hello. What’s your business with me?”
>”Ah, straight to the point, just the way I like it”, the old minotaur chuckles, “I was wondering if we could make you an offer… Anonymous”
“An offer, you say?”
>”Oh, yes”, the other minotaurs nod as their boss speaks, “we saw your little brawl with Leopold and his buddies. It was impressive. Short, but impressive”, he says shooting a significant glance at the gun by your waist.
“Aha”
>”What a shame that you committed a great mistake”
“A mistake, you say?”
>”Oh, yes”, the minotaur looks at you patronizingly, “You let them live, after all”
>The minotaur lets the words sink in for a few moments.
>”Anyone with half a brain would have dealt with them quickly, or at least would have dispatched Leopold, so that the others wouldn’t bother you afterwards. And you had it easy, Anonymous, with that magic metal stick of yours”, he sighs, “It’s a pity, really”
“What do you mean?”
>”Don’t you know anything about griffins, Anonymous?”, when you don’t answer, he simply rolls his eyes and begins circling you, “Ah, thought so”
>There’s a low rumble of laughter among the other minotaurs.
>”Griffins are a proud and noble race, Anonymous”, the older minotaur explains, “Their sense of honor is great…”
>You have a feeling about where this is going.
>”… if you screw with that sense, they can become very vindictive … and lose their minds to the point that they won’t stop at anything-Anything, I tell you!-until they consider that their “honor” has been restored”
>The minotaur stops in front of you and locks his big dark eyes with yours before pointing at the open window.
>”Right now, out there, there’s a griffon who’s thirsting for vengeance. By now, he’ll have stopped licking his wounds and will be planning something”
>There’s an ominous silence for a few seconds.
>”And if you’re not careful enough, this time, not even your metal stick will keep him and his buddies away”, he then throws his hands up in an innocent manner, “Just saying”
“So, let me guess, you and your boys are the ones who would be covering my ass in case the angry birdies return, right?”
>”You are a quick one, Anonymous”, the old minotaurs smiles, “So, what do you say?”
“I’m sorry, pal, I got nothing to pay you with”, you turn around before he hast time to reply and begin walking back to the bar, “and besides, I can take care of myself”
>”We’ll see to that, Anonymous”, the old minotaurs mutters under his breath, his fingers idly playing with his nose-ring, “oh, we’ll see to that”
Half an hour later…
>You are Anonymous.
>Strolling through the forest, towards where you left your crashed plane.
>With sunlight passing through the still clouded sky, it’s fairly easy to orientate yourself. At some points, you are even able to see the trail your feet drew through the snowed ground yesterday.
>You paid for your stay at the inn with a shilling you found at the bottom of your wallet. Grainseed had paid a really weird look to the coin, but accepted it anyways.
>The words of that minotaur still trouble you, though.
>You are in an unknown land, and you’ve made some enemies. A bit of protection would have been ok, you guess.
>But, still, you doubt Leopold will return for more. They’re smaller than you and they’ve only got daggers and some clubs against your reliable Webley, but, still… if that griffin is as stupid as the Minotaur had made him sound and wanted some action, you won’t hesitate one bit to put a bullet in his head.
>You’ve to recognize it would have been a good way to solve your “griffin” problems once and for all, but you have the feel being the newcomer in a village and getting involved in a shooting five minutes after your entrance isn’t the best of ideas.
>You regularly check the surrounding area in search of trails or sounds that’d signal the presence of the griffins around the place, but it seems your precautions aren’t necessary.
>There’s no sign of them.
>A few more minutes of wandering and you’re in front of the ruined frame of your Sopwith biplane.
>Good, it seems no wild animal came here to mess with your plane.
>The thing is so fucked up, though, you wouldn’t be able to tell that happened unless, for example, a bear had decided to wrestle and take some mouthfuls from the wings or something like that.
>Mmmmm, let’s see…
>Broken propeller, check.
>Torn tail, check.
>Bended right wing, check.
>And getting a mechanic in this backwards Middle-Age land is gonna be difficult, that for sure.
>You step forwards and pass your hands over the fuselage, clearing the snow, before climbing and peering into the cockpit.
>Fuel gauge dropped to zero, check.
>Broken altimeter, check.
>Compass still dancing and rotating, che-oh, wait!
>Surprisingly and unlike yesterday, the hand of the instrument is now pointing in one direction. Looks like it’s working normal again. How suspicious…
>You wait for a few moments before cautiously tapping the compass cover. The hand moves a little bit, but soon regains the same disposition.
>You found a working compass!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ldYCM6F3Xhw&list=SP8D1E4637261C45EF&index=8
>It doesn’t solve any of your most immediate problems, though.
>But, hey, it’s something.
>Suddenly, you hear the rustling of leaves behind you.
>You turn abruptly and immediately point your Webley at the surrounding bushes and trees.
>The place looks clear enough, until the rustling comes again, this time to your right.
>You point your gun at a still trembling bush.
“Who’s there?!”
>From the corner of your eye, you make out something moving through the dense vegetation. Shit, perhaps the minotaur was right, after all. Perhaps the birdies have come back for payback.
“Is that you, Leopold?! Come on, show yourself!”
>You continue looking around for a few moments more, the sound of branches and grass cracking unnerving you to no end. Then, a shadow lunges at you from a nearby bush, a shining line of steel tightly held in his grasp.
>You duck instinctively and you feel a blade’s edge passing a few feet above your head.
>When you turn, you discover that your assailant is no other than the p0ny guard from yesterday night. He’s scowling and holding with his teeth what appears to be a sizeable sword… well, sizeable for a p0ny.
>He scowls and hisses through the steel in his mouth.
>”Buck it! Almost had you, stranger!”
“Yeah, yeah, what a pity, you fucker!”, you point your pistol directly at his head, “So, what’s this about? Leopold sent you after my head or what?”
>The p0ny scowls.
“Aha, so he sent you to do the dirty job?
>The p0ny doesn’t answer and looks at you, unflinchingly. You take a moment to look at the surrounding forest area, always keeping the gun’s barrel lined with his head. Looks like nobody else is around.
“And he sent you alone”, you smile, “After what I heard this morning, I thought Leopold would at least have the bollocks to come in person”
>The p0ny suddenly grins and chuckles.
“What’s so funny?”
>”Oh, but he’s here, outsider”
>Before you can even process that, something dives at you from above at neck-breaking speed, releasing an avian screech that sounds eerily familiar.
>You duck and begin turning, but this time you’re not so fast and your pistol is quickly snatched from your hands. The second assailant goes up in the air again, leaving you disarmed and shaken.
>Seeing his opportunity, the guardp0ny charges you at full speed, sword held in his mouth.
>You roll aside and dodge the oncoming p0ny, before turning your head up for a moment.
>What you see is worrying to say the least.
>Beyond the tree cover, the grey patches of sky are now occupied by the soaring forms of Leopold and his buddies.
>Of course the sky. Griffins fly. How couldn’t you think of…?
>You’re feeling quite stupid right now.
>Now that you’re no menace, the griffins drop to the ground and surround you in a wide semicircle, with the p0ny completing it at the far right.
>Leopold stands at the center, with your gun clumsily held in one of his claws, the only one that doesn’t have a bloodied bandage around it.
>”Well, well, boys, if it isn’t our good friend Anonymous?”, the griffin grins, then laughs like a madman, his minions joining in the sudden maniac laughter.
>You begin backing away towards the plane until you feel the fuselage against your back. Perhaps if you could grab that trench knife in your cockpit in time, you could…
>Who’re you kidding? There’s six of them, all armed, and Leopold has your gun. There’s not much you can do right now.
>”And what do we have here?”, Leopold points at the plane. Both the p0ny and the griffins tilt their heads look at it quizzically.
>”What’s that thing? It’s…”
>”Looks like a wooden bird to me”
>”A big deformed bird”, the p0ny adds.
>”Doesn’t matter, boys!”, Leopold says while advancing towards you, trying to point the pistol at you, “We’ll figure out what we do with that thing later. If it flies, as Anonymous says, then we’ll sell it to the unicorns in Hooften. Those wizards are always looking for weird artifacts to investigate”
>”Will we give them that too?”, a griffin points at the gun in his leader’s grasp.
>”No”, Leopold says with a greedy grin, “I think I’ll keep this one. Now…”
>The other griffins and the p0ny close unto you, menacingly bearing their weapons.
>”It’s payback time, Anonymous”
>Leopold stays behind as the rest approaches, intent on watching the oncoming spectacle. You ball your fists and raise them in a very desperate attempt to stay defiant, although you know it’s hopeless, really.
>This is gonna end so bad to you.
>Then a low rumble begins shaking the ground.
>The griffins and the p0ny stop, confused, and pay attention to their surroundings.
>When the distant sound of stomping is heard, even Leopold looks worried.
>”What the hell is going on? Alwin, go up there tell us”, the griffins orders.
>One of the griffins takes off and goes up in the air. He raises his claw to his head and narrows his golden eyes.
>Then an expression of shock crosses his face.
>Alwin drops.
>”Boss! Watch out! It’s the-!”
>Alwin never finishes his sentence as an axe, hurled through the air with incredible strength, buries itself in his chest amidst a spray of blood.
>The stomping sound is now deafening and everybody turns in time to see a blur of horned heads and furred biped bodies charging into the snowed clear where you stand, an unrelenting wall of steel blades held before them.
>The fight that ensues is intense, but also short, as it is clear who’s the winner from the very beginning.
>Two griffins fight side by side, swinging their weapons around them and slashing with their claws at their attackers whenever they can, but four minotaurs quickly get into their guard.
>One of the minotaurs manages to tie their opponent’s claws together using a strange chained weapon and the second griffin is brought into submission when a darkened hoof sinks his face several inches into the ground.
>The p0ny defends himself for a while, jumping and punching with his hind legs, before being taken down by a direct hit to its head with a blade’s flat side.
>The third griffin simply lets out a scared screech, takes off and flies away. The minotaurs don’t even bother with pursuing him.
>At first, Leopold clumsily raises your pistol and fires it, the sudden recoil making him miss the shot. When the minotaurs are almost on him, he discards it and produces two daggers, which begin being used to deliver precise strikes to the greyed-fur minotaur from this morning.
>As for the minotaur himself, he deflects all the attacks with a huge double-bitted axe and launches some of his own, making Leopold fall back and take off sometimes; just to keep the axe edges off his head and limbs.
>The duel goes on for a while, both Leopold and the minotaur performing a deadly dance. Then the minotaur misses a blow and his axe gets stuck in the snowed ground. The minotaur begins pulling the handle, trying to get its weapon back.
>Then Leopold senses his opportunity and goes for the killing blow, blades pointing at his foe’s throat.
>That is until a furred fist lands on his face.
>Leopold stops for a moment, stunned by the sudden blow, and that’s all his opponent needs.
>In one swift movement, the minotaur pulls its axe free and swings it in an ascending arch, cleaving right through the griffin’s middle section.
>Leopold collapses on the ground, staining the snow with steaming blood and entrails.
>Half a griffin screeches and twitches for a few agonizing seconds before a second axe blow takes his head off the shoulders.
>The minotaur idly shakes some blood drops from his axe and turns to the survivors of the group, now disarmed and held captive by his boys.
>”Get the hell out of here, or the next heads rolling will be yours”
>The p0ny and the griffins need no more words and they quickly beat it the moment the minotaurs release them, not even turning to look back.
>You lay there, back against your plane, stunned and shocked to say the least.
>Being a soldier in the Great War, you are no stranger to this kind of violence, that is true.
>But, hell, you can’t get completely used to it, no matter what.
>Nobody can, really.
>”See, Anonymous?”
>You turn your gaze to the old minotaur, and he grins.
>”Told you you’d need us”
>Some minutes later of clearing the field and tending to the few wounded, the minotaurs form around you and your airplane in petite committee. Their chief speaks to you.
>”So, looks like you’re in debt with us”
“Oh, yeah”, you chuckle humorlessly, “how quaint. Do you accept francs or pounds?”
>”Sorry, Anonymous, foreign currency isn’t really our thing”
“Then, I’m afraid I’ve got noth-”
>”But we can accept other forms of payment”
>You have heard that before, from a certain, now beheaded, griffin. You shift nervously and your hand goes for your pistol. The other minotaurs see it and quickly you have the points of nearly a dozen blades pressed against your body, a few of them on very sensitive spots.
>”It’s alright, boys”, the minotaur waves his hand, dismissing the incident, and the weapons back away as you slowly move your hand off the holster, “We didn’t mean that. We aren’t like Leopold and the others”, he pauses for a few moments, “Not much, at least”
“What do you guys want from me then?”
>”Let’s start anew first, shall we? Name’s Strongblow, Anonymous, and these are my boys…”, he begins pointing at them, giving you their names. All of them sound incredibly ridiculous, just like anyone’s in this land, “… Cunningeye, Sharphorn, Longstrike and young Hittingbull here”
“Aha, pleasure to meet you….”, you smile at them and they smile back with grins of their own, except for Cunningeye, who simply stares at you, dead serious, “And what do you people do, then?”
>”We rob, we fight, sometimes on our own, sometimes on hire, always for money, Anonymous, but we never, ever, steal from peasants and travelers… specially from those who are lost”
“You mean, you are like bandits… or mercenaries?”
>”Yes”
“But with a sense of honor or something?”
>”It’s not as complicated as that”, a minotaur named… Ironforger? answers, “we simply aren’t as bad as people would usually think”
>”Anyways”, Strongblow interrupts, “We are trying to do a big job here, Anonymous, and we’d like you to help us”
>You nod, still feeling suspicious of their true intentions.
>”Is it true that this thing of yours here can fly?”, Strongblow taps the biplane’s side with his knuckles. The others seem content to examine it from a distance.
“Yes, this Sopwith sure can fly…”
>”See, boys! Told you-!”
“… or at least it could yesterday”, you sigh in defeat, “Now it’s just a mess”
>”Don’t you worry about that, Anonymous, we can get some help around here. There’re some real good carpenters and blacksmiths back in Trottingheim. With their help we can make sure your… eh…”
“Plane, it’s called a plane”
>”…plane! That’s it! Yeah, we’ll make sure your plane flies again in no time!”
>You have doubts about these minotaurs’ ability to get your Sopwith up in the air.
>Perhaps those artisans can patch up the wings and get the tail back to its place, true.
>But what about the fuel? What if there is some sort of trouble with the engine?
>Oh, fuck it. You aren’t going to refuse the only help offer you’ve received lately.
“Thanks a lot for this, Strongblow”, you say, stretching your hand.
>”Whatever, Anonymous”, he stretches his own and grasps yours in an iron grip.
“So, what do I owe you for this guys? What’s the job?”
>”The job, Anonymous, is something where your skills with this plane of yours can come quite in handy”, Strongblow passes a muscled arm over your shoulder and mutters.
>”Say, Anonymous, what do you know about dragons?”
>Far away, at Castle Maredragon, capital of the Unicorns’ Princedom…
>Princess Platinum steps into the Castle’s Throne Room, were all members of the Court are currently assembled.
>All of them bow at once to the sight of their ruler donning her most elegant attires, a purple and white velvet cape, as well as a silver jeweled crown resting on her head.
>By her side stands her most trusted servant, a mare dressed in simple archivist’s attire, known by everyp0ny as Clover the Clever.
>Some of the present nobles whisper wildly, wondering what is her princess doing in such a formal attire, with her counselor Clover present, and why are all of them gathered there.
>The sense of mystery is broken by Platinum’s soft, but commanding voice. The whispers die as the ruler of the Princedom speaks.
>”You must be wondering why Court has been convoked at this time of the day. It is because we have an urgent matter to attend”
>”Yesterday night, I received a message from my frontier guards saying that an emissary from a distant land had trespassed into our territory”
>The whispers start again.
>”This emissary, of apparently noble origins, has asked for our hospitality. In return, he will explain us everything about his unexpected arrival. Now, let us receive this guest of us”
>The doors at the opposite end of the room open and a much agitated and pale chamberlain steps through.
>He composes himself a little bit and his voice echoes through the wide chamber.
>”We hereby announce the arrival of…!”
>The chamberlain interrupts himself before raising a parchment in front of him and reading out loud.
>”… Lord Namenlos Von Anonym, representative of the Deutsches Reich and appointed emissary of his land on behalf of Kaiser Wilhelm the Second!”
>Then, the strangest creature the nobles of the Princedom have ever set eyes upon steps through the doors into the Throne Room.
>You are Namenlos.
>As you step into what appears to be a Throne Room, you begin thinking of what you are going to say. The words you speak here are crucial.
>These horned p0ni-unicorns… were reasonable enough to listen to your story and once you mentioned them you were a noble, their attitude towards you made a 180 turn and made it all easy enough to get you here.
>You invented some small details of your story, of course, but those were made on reasonable premises.
>If you are the only German Von around here, even if you are a minor noble, you can be considered a somehow ambassador of the Fatherland, can’t you?
>Anyways, you must get these p0nies to repair your plane or take you to a place where it can be repaired. Given what little you’ve seen of their technological and cultural level, the second option might be the best one.
>On the other hand, you’d swear you’ve seen them make things float without any visible means sometimes, although you know that’s impossible. There’s something called gravity, after all.
>This place is trying to drive you crazy.
>The sooner you return to the Front and contribute to Germany’s inevitable victory the better.
>You make your way amongst a crowd of shocked p0nies, all of them wearing capes and hats that resemble those you’ve seen in drawings and illustrations of people of the Middle Age.
>Some of them whisper stupid things about monkeys and minotaurs, but you pay these no mind.
>Your Fokker first, these mutant p0nies later.
>You then stop in front of a set of stairs with a dais atop of it. A unicorn in a purple cape with a silver crown rests upon the throne, with another by its side. The unicorn with the crown speaks with in a soft female voice, one with a touch of regality in it.
>”Ambassador Namenlos, I’m princess Platinum of the Princedom and this is my counselor, Clover”
“It is an honor to meett you, your Highness”, you say as you bow, stifling your laughter at those names, “As it is to meett you, fraulein Clover”, you nod towards the counselor.
>She flinches a bit at your last word, but doesn’t say a thing.
>”So you come from this… eh… “Doitschs Rach”?”
“Ja, zat is much korrect, your Highness”, you painfully ignore the mispronunciation of the name of your glorious Fatherland. Correcting royalty isn’t considered appropriate for first diplomatic contacts.
>”Wouldn’t that happen to be next to some griffin territory?”, the second unicorn asks in a suspicious tone.
“Ich am afraid we’fe never heart of griffins back at zee Deutschland, fraulein”
>”Next to the Minotaur fiefdoms, perhaps?”, she insists.
“Minotaurs? Zose are mere legents”
>”Legends? But that’s-!” , she looks confused about your response. Then the princess interrupts her.
>”Perhaps it would be best, dear Clover, if we let ambassador Namenlos speak”
>There’re a few moments of expectant silence as you collect your thoughts and prepare. This is the crucial part.
“Ich am a soldier of the Reich, your Highness. Under zee orders of Kaiser Wilhelm, our Emperor, we’fe been takink part in zee Great Var for zee last three years”
>Whispers and gasps are heard all around you.
>”Great War? We haven’t heard of such a conflict”, Princess Platinum says with surprise.
“Ich am impressed you hafen’t, your Highness… for zees terrible konflict has seen more zan a million frave men of my land killed in zeese past years…”
>The gasps and whispers are now loud, and both the princess platinum and its counselor stare at you, eyes widened in shock.
>”A million?”
>”But that’s…”
“Ich know it sounds horrible, ja, and it is, your Highness, but allow me to explain properrly. It all started…”
>And so you tell them of the Great War.
>Of its origins.
>Of your Fatherland and its allies.
>Of the Entente Powers and their treacherous methods of waging war.
>”Pray tell, ambassador, what are these “tanks” you speak of?”
“A tank is a monstrrous metal machine, your Highness… It’s like…”, you struggle to find the right words to explain the concept to these backwards creatures, a concept that, to be honest, you don’t know much about, either, “Sink of a great vagon vith metal plates all ofer it, your Highness, ant shained wheels kapable of shtomping ant smashing soldiers under zeir veight…”
>The horror of these p0nies only increases when you speak of chemical warfare.
>Of course, you don’t mention it was your country the first one to use those during the War. Or that you also make fine use of flamethrowers and the like.
>No mean is too dishonorable when it contributes to the cause of the Fatherland, but it wouldn’t be advisable to make your nation look as bad as the Entente members at this time.
>It takes nearly an hour, but, at last, you finish explaining the situation to the p0nies.
“And zat is zee komplete story, your Highness”
>”Oh, my…”, counselor Clover is covering her mouth with her hoof.
>”Your people are indeed very brave to resist in those terrible conditions, ambassador Namenlos” , princess Platinum says, still shocked from your story.
“Ve do vhat ve can, your Highness, gifen zee cirkumstances”
>”We shall grant you whatever assistance you deem necessary”
“Your Highness is too generous”, you say while gently bowing.
>”Think of it as nothing, ambassador. Now, tell us, you mentioned on your way here having some trouble with your… flying artifact…?”
“It’s kalled a triplane, your Highness”
>”…triplane… that’s it? Well, my guards have shipped your triplane inside the castle grounds and I’ll have some of my best mages of the Court looking at it in no time, so you don’t have nothing to worry about”
>Mages? Does she mean the same as… wizards? Are they going to try repairing your Fokker with superstitious rituals? Not on your watch.
“Eemmm… excuse me, your Highness, but Ich vould be fery interested to supervise zee work of your… mages”, when the princess raises an eyebrow in concern, you quickly add, “just to guide zem ant make sure they hafe no troubles”
>”Of course, ambassador. They’re right here”
>You hear the sound of hooves tapping behind you and you turn to see a group of unicorns make their way through the crowd of nobles towards where you stand. These are dressed in black, hooded robes.
>The one at the front has some sort of strange lensed device attached to its head, much like those used by jewelers, and it’s the first to speak.
>”Greetings, Lord Namenlos. My name is Solar Eclipse, at your service”
“A pleasure to meet you, Herr Eclipse”, you reply, once more managing to contain your laughter in the process. These names are going to kill you.
>”I am the second Archmage of the Council and first degree technomancer”
“Teknomancerr? Vhat does zat mean? Are you perhaps an engineer, Herr Eclipse?”
>”I don’t know what an engineer is, sir, but I can assure you that technomancers are well learnt in combining the arts of magic with the intricate ways of mechanics and the like”
”Like, for example?”
>”Like the design and construction of the most precise clock in the entire Princedom, for example”, he declares with no little amount of pride in his voice, “precise to the minute and second. It is located at the top of the Astronomy Tower. Perhaps you’ll like to see it afterwards, Lord Namenlos? It truly is a sight and I guarantee you that you’ll probably have never seen anything like it”
>A watchmaker. They want to put your triplane under the care of a watchmaker.
>Worse than that: a hooved watchmaker.
>This is preposterous.
>”Are you alright, Lord Namenlos?”
“… ah, ja! Ich was sinking, zat’s all!”
>”Very well, then… Now tell me, what kind of magic does your… triplane, was it? Yes, what magic does it use?”, several of the robed p0nies at his back levitate- yes, levitate!- quills and parchments as if to take notes.
>So you weren’t imagining the magical floating-thing, after all.
>”Is it elemental? Fire, ice, air? Perhaps arcane magic?”, the Archmage gives you a grin, “Or maybe your people are those who prefer the Eldritch type? I know it’s a bit unstable, but-”
“Aktually, ve prefer petrol, Archmage”, you reply, pretending not to have heard that nonsense about types of magic.
>”Petrol?”, Solar Eclipse blinks, “I’m not familiarized with that kind of magic”, suddenly, he narrows his eyes and looks at you suspiciously, “Is it the name of an imprisoned genie? A jinn or demon of sorts? Is your triplane a possessed machine?”
“Vhat?! Nein, not at all!”
>”Oh, I see, then-”
“Petrol is just liquid fuel”
>Your words are received with a shocked look from the Archmage. The other robed p0nies exchange weird looks, as do many of the nearby Court nobles.
>”Fuel?”, Solar Eclipse makes the word roll slowly out of his mouth, as if not believing what you’ve just said, “You mean, like… the oil used in lamps?”
“Prrecisely, Herr Eclipse”
>Much to your bewilderment, the response of the Archmage and, much likely, his apprentices, is to laugh in your face.
>”Oh, Lord Namenlos, that was a good one! You really got me! For a moment, I even believed you were being serious and all! I mean…!”, he tries to contain another fit of laughter, but to no avail. He then turns to his apprentices, “Can you imagine it, my disciples? A magicless machine, flying?”
>”Like a wagon!”, one of them points.
>”With wings!”, a second adds, still chuckling.
>”Yeah, my disciples, as if…!”, the Archmage sighs and composes himself, “Very well, now, Lord Namenlos, what is this magic that makes your triplane fly?”
“Petrol”, you reply in a cold manner.
>The laughter begins anew, but soon dies as the unicorns see that you maintain the same calmed and severe expression.
>”Are you serious, Lord Namenlos?”
“Deat serious, Herr Eclipse”, you advance one step towards them and your- for them-towering height makes Solar Eclipse flinch a bit, “Petrol vith a mixture of kerrosene ant a 98 oktane ratink, if zie memory doesn’t fail me”
>There is much silence as the Archmage and disciples process this new information. Then one of the robed apprentices raises a hoof.
“Ja?”
>”What’s an octane?”
>You sigh and facepalm.
>You can tell this is going to be difficult.
>Not even two minutes later…
>You bid farewell to the Archmage and his disciples as they hurriedly abandon the Throne Room.
>You turn to speak with the princess again and notice her servant Clover is gone, but you pay no mind to this detail.
>There are more important matters at hand.
>”So, ambassador? What do you think of my mages? Are they up to the task?”
“Ich don’t intent to offend zee mages or you, your Highness, but Ich must request zat zey stay as avay frrom my triplane as possible”
>”Oh, don’t be like that, ambassador”, she dismisses your comment with a polite chuckle, impervious to your cold seriousness, ”Supreme Mage Star Swirl the Bearded hasn’t been called yet. He hasn’t been in best of shape lately, but maybe he can lend you a hoof in this matter?”
>Another Mage?
>Ha, just what you need.
>Meanwhile, Clover the Clever is hastily trotting all the stairs up towards one of the highest rooms in the Castle’s Keep, next to the Astronomy Tower. When she reaches her destination, she wastes no time and knocks on a wooden door.
>An old voice, muffled and dry, answers immediately behind it.
>”The door is open. Do come in”
>Clover open the door and closes it behind her as she steps into a darkened room filled to the brim with scrolls, tomes and parchments, as well as an astrolabe, a small planetarium, a collection of skulls of many sizes and shapes distributed on shelves and, finally, an eight-pointed talisman hanging from the ceiling near the rear wall.
>The only light source is an open window, through which the early afternoon gloom now falls upon a robed, bearded figure, making multiple hanging bells gleam like little fireballs.
>”Ah, my prized pupil, it is you”, the voice of the Star Swirl sounds like the cracking of old paper and his words seem to have some dust of their own.
>”Yes, my mentor”
>”Tell me, did you see this “ambassador” of sorts?”
>”I managed to, yes”
>”And where you able to “examine” him properly, my dear Clover?”
>”I tried the spell you instructed me to use, but-“, Clover thinks for a few moments, “I think it didn’t work as it was supposed to”
>”I presume you made the conjuration in the proper order? Did anyp0ny see you use it? Perhaps you were victim of a counterspell…”
>”Nop0ny saw me use it, as far as I can tell. It happened otherwise, it was… strange… as if my magic slipped past through him”
>”Past through?”, the Bearded narrows his eyes in deep thought, “As if there was not a bit of magic inside him?”
>”Yes, it was… so unnatural”
>”Then perhaps our visitor is… a magicless creature, after all”
>”A magicless creature? But that’s only a theoretical concept! How can any living being exist without even a bit of latent power? The pegasi, the earth p0nies… even wild animals have some sort of it, you taught me that!”
>”Yes, I do remember our first lessons, Clover”
>”Then how can this Namenlos ambassador be…? It doesn’t make any sense! And then he even said his flying artifact didn’t use any magic at all! Can you believe it?”
>”Well, I say I can”, he raises a hoof to silence his pupil, “Remember, Clover. We, the unicorns, may be wise and all, but we don’t have the monopoly of knowledge, although many of our colleagues revel in thinking that way. We must always be open-minded and try to embrace new ideas and concepts, no matter how strange they sound”
>”Very well”, Clover replies, still a bit unsure. She then says, “but if this ambassador isn’t what we are looking for, then…?”
>”I’m afraid we must divert our search towards other directions”
>”Any ideas, my mentor?”
>The Bearded looks out of the window and his gaze passes over the whitened trees and fields outside the Castle Yards to the greyed skies, then back to his room and his apprentice.
>”Have you noticed how long this winter is lasting, Clover?”
>”It is the talk of the whole Castle”, she sighs, “Some even say that there could even some food shortages due to the poor weather and there’s rumor of actions against the Pegasi Junta if they aren’t able to bring the spring in time…”, Clover thinks for a moment before continuing, “… or against the Republic’s farmers”
>”Just as expected”, the Bearded sarcastically mutters.
>”Are you suggesting this has anything to do with your premonitions?”, Clover asks cautiously.
>”Who knows?”
>”But there’s only been three months since the last solstice”
>”And still, there’s frost and snowing every morning, my pupil. Doesn’t that bother you?”
>”Well… yes…, but this may be, after all, just a slight delay of seasons, don’t you think? ”
>”I hope you are right, Clover”, the Bearded sighs, “I really hope you are right”

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>Far from that clear, back to a now familiar meetings chamber, the upper ranks of the Pegasi Junta try to make their Commander see reason. 
>”A reconnaissance mission? Based on what evidence?”
>”You must be joking, commander!”
>”It can’t be!”
>”I assure, all of you, that there’s no cause for alarm”, Commander Hurricane replies in a calm manner that makes all of its subordinates fall silent, “All we’re doing here is taking preventive measures”
>”And I’m ok with that”, sub-commander Darkshine replies, ”It’s just that… it’s ridiculous”
>”Sub-commander, let me ask you one thing”
>”Yes, commander?”
>”If you were to see something like the thing those four guardsp0nies described, what would you do?”
>”Commander, there’s no such thing as the gu-“
>”IF you were, Darkshine”, Hurricane interrupts him, “this is an exercise of imagination, after all. So, what would you do, Steelwind, if you were a simple guardsp0ny and saw this “flying metal monstrosity”?
>”Well, I… eh, I’d…”
>”You’d inform immediately your superiors, I presume”, Hurricane finishes the sentence for him.
>”Yes! Yes, of course, my liege!”, Darkshine hastily says.
>”Despite the risk of being ridiculed”, she continues.
>”Ah…”
>”Because the safety of our people is more important than personal fame and promotions, isn’t it, Darkshine?”
>”Well, ye-”
>”Do you then think that those recruits did that just because of a stupid and senseless prank?”, Hurricane shakes her head. 
>”But you heard them!”, corporal Steelwind comes to the sub-commander’s aid, “How could we give credit to… that kind of  a report?”
>”I know it sounds ridiculous, but all of you must admit that there’s a considerable chance that those guardsp0nies are telling the truth”
>”…alright, commander, but-“
>”It’s all practical sense”, Hurricane looks at each of the assembled pegasi, “If the guardsp0nies are simply lying to us, then sending them on a recon mission far away, chasing after the ghosts they made up, would be a very suitable punishment, don’t you think?”
>The officers nod in silent approval.
>”But then, would you rather prefer to not send them away and risk the safety of our people because we feel confident in the odds that they’re just messing with us?”, Hurricane’s voice suddenly sounds like wind blowing upon an unsheathed blade, “If the monstrosity truly exists, we cannot afford to let it roam free without at least trying to monitor its movements. Who knows what these Hooflites truly saw?”
>The officers reluctantly nod, finally seeing the reason in their Commander’s words.
>”We can’t afford to let any loose ends in what could well be a matter of national security” 
>Corporal Steelwind looks ready to reply, but a single glare from the commander convinces him that contradicting Hurricane would be a really bad idea.
>”I bid you all good night”
>The officers stand up and salute as commander Hurricane dons her crested helmet and leaves the meetings chamber. She then walks along the corridors of the Junta Palace, up in the cloud city of Skye. 
>On one of the multiple intersections between passages, another figure joins the commander in her nocturnal walk. 
>A private in dark armor, with a wide combed morion helmet covering the head.
>”Good night, Pansy”
>”My liege”, the mare bows before resuming its walk, “Any news?”
>”They finally saw reason, as it was expected”, Hurricane sighs with relief, “It didn’t take long to convince them”
>”I see, my liege”
>”Pansy, tomorrow morning you are to go to the barracks and find guardsp0nies Cloudtamer, Thunderslide, Nightgale and Skyranger. You’re going on a reconnaissance mission with them towards the village of Trottingheim”
>”Understood, commander”
>”You are to stay alert at all times, and search, both on the ground and the air, for anything out of the ordinary”
>”So we’re after the…”metal thing” the guards saw”
>”Yes, Pansy”, Hurricane smiles, “It looks like I’m sending you to carry on a senseless task, doesn’t it?”
>”Well…”
>”You may speak freely, Pansy”
>”It looks like it, commander… but I won’t doubt your orders…” , Pansy seems at deep think for a moment, “Still…”
>”Yes, Pansy?”
>”I know that you trust these guards, but it looks like… that there’s more behind your decision to send us on reconnaissance, commander, than these soldiers’ tale”  
>Hurricane turns to Pansy and cracks a smile. 
>”Quick as a whip, Pansy. You never disappoint me”, Hurricane sighs, “Indeed, there’s more than that”
>Hurricane stops for a moment, checks out the surrounding corridor area, looking for hidden eavesdroppers, and then whispers.
>”A message was received, Pansy… from the Bearded”
>”The Bearded!”, Pansy’s green eyes go wide in amazement, “How strange… Princess Platinum’s Court doesn’t normally send any messages this time of the year”
>”The message was from the Bearded himself, not from him as a representative of the Princedom”
>Now Pansy looks truly surprised. 
>”What did it say, my liege?”, Pansy then adds, “If I’m allowed to know… that is”
>”The message was cryptic, as expected from a sorcerer’s, but it spoke of disturbances, Pansy…”
>”Disturbances?”
>”Strange fluxes of dark energy and magic flowing across the land… I didn’t understand much of it, but the Bearded mentioned an ominous presence approaching. Of its intentions, he doesn’t know, but the sorcerer thinks that, whatever these are, can’t mean any good to p0nies, be they pegasi, unicorns or earth p0nies”
>”I see, but…”, Pansy comments, “What if it’s all a trick? The Bearded is a unicorn wizard, after all”
>”I know, Pansy, but he’s a different kind of sorcerer... almost trustable, I’d say. Anyone who has met him personally knows that. The message itself said that these concerns were also shared in Court with Princess Platinum and that a similar missive was sent to Chancellor Puddinghead of the Republic, so I don’t think he was lying at all. Besides, the Bearded’s days are coming to an end. What could he gain from this, being as he is at the gates of death?”
>”Umm… so, do you think that these fluxes and… presences mentioned by the Bearded have anything to do with that report and sighting from those four guards?”
>”I don’t know, Pansy, I simply don’t know”, Hurricane taps her private’s withers with a hoof, “That’s why I’m sending you on this mission. Be ready to part at morning and take those four with you. They’ll help you recognize whatever you’re looking for”
>”Understood, commander”, Pansy salutes, “We won’t let you down”
>”I know, Pansy, I know”



>And the morning cometh.
>The sunlight falling flat on your face wakes you up.
>You groan and rub your eyes.
>You are in a small room with stone walls and an open window. 
>You are also on top of a large pile of straw, with a sort of blanket thrown on you and with your pilot gear still on. 
>You remember going for a one-night stay at the inn… apart from that, yesterday’s a bit of  a blur. A little too much drinking, perhaps.
>Hangovers can suck.
>But what could you do? Turn down all those good p0ny and griffin fellows that were offering you drinks? No, it’d have been impolite.
>You have expected them to be afraid after your little brawl with Leopold and his bastards, but, hell no, they even wanted to pay your drinks for that. 
>Looks like the griffins weren’t much appreciated around here.
>Not much of a surprise, given what little you’ve seen of them.
>As for your gun, the medieval-thinking creatures called it a “magic stick”. You decided it was best not to contradict them. It wouldn’t pay off, really.
>You groggily stand up, put the blanket aside and check your pocket watch. It says it’s seven in the morning. 
>You then slowly make it for the room’s door and step through into the inn’s main room, now empty at this time of the mor-oh, there’s the minotaurs back there, still in the shadowed corner at the back.
>”Good morning, Lord Anonymous”
>The bartender, whom you now know as Grainseed, happily trots up to you.
“Morning there”
>”Would you like something to eat, milord?”
“Yes, please”, you say before taking a seat at the nearest table.
>Grainseed comes back with a bowl held in his mouth which she settles on your table, then goes through a door behind the bar and comes back with a steaming pot.
>She somehow manages to use a spoon and pours what appears to be some broth of veggies in the bowl. You thank her and cup the recipient in your hands and drink, careful not to let the liquid or your lips touch the part of the bowl that was in Grainseed’s mouth.
>The hot liquid burning down your throat helps to dissipate what little dizziness was left from the hangover. You are thankful for that, but the odd texture and taste of the mixture doesn’t sit quite well with you, although it isn’t as bad as the meals you are used to have back at Saint Omer’s base.
“Excuse, Mrs. Grainseed, what exactly is this?”
>”It’s hay soup with some spices and herbs, milord”
>Hay soup. You just ate hay soup. 
>Hay.
>”It’s there any problem? Would you like something else? I don’t have much, but…”
“The soup is fine, thank you. I was… just curious” 
>You prefer to be polite and finish the rest of the soup, although you know your stomach is gonna regret this latter. 
>Then while you are gulping down the soup, you hear a whistle at your back.
>You pay it no mind, but the whistle comes back, then whoever is trying to get your attention loses its patience.
>”E-HEM”
>You turn your head towards the minotaurs and one of them grunts and signals you to come.
>You cautiously stand up and make your way towards the group; wondering what they might want to do with you. 
>Then one of the minotaurs opens a window nearby, making light pour over them and you are able to see them properly for the first time.
>You’ve never seen a more threatening collection of muscles in your whole life, and there must be seven or eight of them.
>Their dark blue-furred bodies standing on massive hooved legs, those hands that look capable of squeezing watermelons, the sharp horns and the impressive collection of swords, axes and knives that hang by their backs and waists… these details do little to calm you down as you approach them. 
>Their bovine faces look up at you, some of them grinning, some of them calmly observing, as if their owners were examining you. 
>The creature at the center of the group, with his fur of a greyer tone than its comrades’, a bronze ring embedded in its nose, stands up and looks down at you. You hold its gaze for a few seconds before it speaks in a grave and resounding voice.
>”Morning”
“Hello. What’s your business with me?”
>”Ah, straight to the point, just the way I like it”, the old minotaur chuckles, “I was wondering if we could make you an offer… Anonymous”
“An offer, you say?”
>”Oh, yes”, the other minotaurs nod as their boss speaks, “we saw your little brawl with Leopold and his buddies. It was impressive. Short, but impressive”, he says shooting a significant glance at the gun by your waist. 
“Aha”
>”What a shame that you committed a great mistake”
“A mistake, you say?”
>”Oh, yes”, the minotaur looks at you patronizingly, “You let them live, after all”
>The minotaur lets the words sink in for a few moments. 
>”Anyone with half a brain would have dealt with them quickly, or at least would have dispatched Leopold, so that the others wouldn’t bother you afterwards. And you had it easy, Anonymous, with that magic metal stick of yours”, he sighs, “It’s a pity, really”
“What do you mean?”
>”Don’t you know anything about griffins, Anonymous?”, when you don’t answer, he simply rolls his eyes and begins circling you, “Ah, thought so”
>There’s a low rumble of laughter among the other minotaurs.
>”Griffins are a proud and noble race, Anonymous”, the older minotaur explains, “Their sense of honor is great…”
>You have a feeling about where this is going.
>”… if you screw with that sense, they can become very vindictive … and lose their minds to the point that they won’t stop at anything-Anything, I tell you!-until they consider that their “honor” has been restored”
>The minotaur stops in front of you and locks his big dark eyes with yours before pointing at the open window.
>”Right now, out there, there’s a griffon who’s thirsting for vengeance. By now, he’ll have stopped licking his wounds and will be planning something”
>There’s an ominous silence for a few seconds.
>”And if you’re not careful enough, this time, not even your metal stick will keep him and his buddies away”, he then throws his hands up in an innocent manner, “Just saying”
“So, let me guess, you and your boys are the ones who would be covering my ass in case the angry birdies return, right?”
>”You are a quick one, Anonymous”, the old minotaurs smiles, “So, what do you say?”
“I’m sorry, pal, I got nothing to pay you with”, you turn around before he hast time to reply and begin walking back to the bar, “and besides, I can take care of myself”
>”We’ll see to that, Anonymous”, the old minotaurs mutters under his breath, his fingers idly playing with his nose-ring, “oh, we’ll see to that”


Half an hour later…  

>You are Anonymous. 
>Strolling through the forest, towards where you left your crashed plane. 
>With sunlight passing through the still clouded sky, it’s fairly easy to orientate yourself. At some points, you are even able to see the trail your feet drew through the snowed ground yesterday.
>You paid for your stay at the inn with a shilling you found at the bottom of your wallet. Grainseed had paid a really weird look to the coin, but accepted it anyways.
>The words of that minotaur still trouble you, though. 
>You are in an unknown land, and you’ve made some enemies. A bit of protection would have been ok, you guess.
>But, still, you doubt Leopold will return for more. They’re smaller than you and they’ve only got daggers and some clubs against your reliable Webley, but, still… if that griffin is as stupid as the Minotaur had made him sound and wanted some action, you won’t hesitate one bit to put a bullet in his head. 
>You’ve to recognize it would have been a good way to solve your “griffin” problems once and for all, but you have the feel being the newcomer in a village and getting involved in a shooting five minutes after your entrance isn’t the best of ideas.
>You regularly check the surrounding area in search of trails or sounds that’d signal the presence of the griffins around the place, but it seems your precautions aren’t necessary.
>There’s no sign of them.
 
>A few more minutes of wandering and you’re in front of the ruined frame of your Sopwith biplane.
>Good, it seems no wild animal came here to mess with your plane.
>The thing is so fucked up, though, you wouldn’t be able to tell that happened unless, for example, a bear had decided to wrestle and take some mouthfuls from the wings or something like that.
>Mmmmm, let’s see…
>Broken propeller, check.
>Torn tail, check.
>Bended right wing, check.
>And getting a mechanic in this backwards Middle-Age land is gonna be difficult, that for sure.
>You step forwards and pass your hands over the fuselage, clearing the snow, before climbing and peering into the cockpit.
>Fuel gauge dropped to zero, check.
>Broken altimeter, check.
>Compass still dancing and rotating, che-oh, wait!
>Surprisingly and unlike yesterday, the hand of the instrument is now pointing in one direction. Looks like it’s working normal again. How suspicious…
>You wait for a few moments before cautiously tapping the compass cover. The hand moves a little bit, but soon regains the same disposition.
>You found a working compass!
 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ldYCM6F3Xhw&list=SP8D1E4637261C45EF&index=8
>It doesn’t solve any of your most immediate problems, though.
>But, hey, it’s something.
>Suddenly, you hear the rustling of leaves behind you.
>You turn abruptly and immediately point your Webley at the surrounding bushes and trees.
>The place looks clear enough, until the rustling comes again, this time to your right.
>You point your gun at a still trembling bush.
“Who’s there?!”
>From the corner of your eye, you make out something moving through the dense vegetation. Shit, perhaps the minotaur was right, after all. Perhaps the birdies have come back for payback. 
“Is that you, Leopold?! Come on, show yourself!”
>You continue looking around for a few moments more, the sound of branches and grass cracking unnerving you to no end. Then, a shadow lunges at you from a nearby bush, a shining line of steel tightly held in his grasp.
>You duck instinctively and you feel a blade’s edge passing a few feet above your head. 
>When you turn, you discover that your assailant is no other than the p0ny guard from yesterday night. He’s scowling and holding with his teeth what appears to be a sizeable sword… well, sizeable for a p0ny.
>He scowls and hisses through the steel in his mouth.
>”Buck it! Almost had you, stranger!”
“Yeah, yeah, what a pity, you fucker!”, you point your pistol directly at his head, “So, what’s this about? Leopold sent you after my head or what?”
>The p0ny scowls.
“Aha, so he sent you to do the dirty job?
>The p0ny doesn’t answer and looks at you, unflinchingly. You take a moment to look at the surrounding forest area, always keeping the gun’s barrel lined with his head. Looks like nobody else is around.
“And he sent you alone”, you smile, “After what I heard this morning, I thought Leopold would at least have the bollocks to come in person”
>The p0ny suddenly grins and chuckles.
“What’s so funny?”
>”Oh, but he’s here, outsider”
>Before you can even process that, something dives at you from above at neck-breaking speed, releasing an avian screech that sounds eerily familiar. 
>You duck and begin turning, but this time you’re not so fast and your pistol is quickly snatched from your hands. The second assailant goes up in the air again, leaving you disarmed and shaken.
>Seeing his opportunity, the guardp0ny charges you at full speed, sword held in his mouth. 
>You roll aside and dodge the oncoming p0ny, before turning your head up for a moment. 
>What you see is worrying to say the least.
>Beyond the tree cover, the grey patches of sky are now occupied by the soaring forms of Leopold and his buddies.
>Of course the sky. Griffins fly. How couldn’t you think of…?
>You’re feeling quite stupid right now.
>Now that you’re no menace, the griffins drop to the ground and surround you in a wide semicircle, with the p0ny completing it at the far right.
>Leopold stands at the center, with your gun clumsily held in one of his claws, the only one that doesn’t have a bloodied bandage around it.
>”Well, well, boys, if it isn’t our good friend Anonymous?”, the griffin grins, then laughs like a madman, his minions joining in the sudden maniac laughter.
>You begin backing away towards the plane until you feel the fuselage against your back. Perhaps if you could grab that trench knife in your cockpit in time, you could…
>Who’re you kidding? There’s six of them, all armed, and Leopold has your gun. There’s not much you can do right now.
>”And what do we have here?”, Leopold points at the plane. Both the p0ny and the griffins tilt their heads look at it quizzically.
>”What’s that thing? It’s…”   
>”Looks like a wooden bird to me”
>”A big deformed bird”, the p0ny adds.
>”Doesn’t matter, boys!”, Leopold says while advancing towards you, trying to point the pistol at you, “We’ll figure out what we do with that thing later. If it flies, as Anonymous says, then we’ll sell it to the unicorns in Hooften. Those wizards are always looking for weird artifacts to investigate”
>”Will we give them that too?”, a griffin points at the gun in his leader’s grasp.
>”No”, Leopold says with a greedy grin, “I think I’ll keep this one. Now…”
>The other griffins and the p0ny close unto you, menacingly bearing their weapons.
>”It’s payback time, Anonymous”
>Leopold stays behind as the rest approaches, intent on watching the oncoming spectacle. You ball your fists and raise them in a very desperate attempt to stay defiant, although you know it’s hopeless, really.
>This is gonna end so bad to you. 
>Then a low rumble begins shaking the ground. 
>The griffins and the p0ny stop, confused, and pay attention to their surroundings.  
>When the distant sound of stomping is heard, even Leopold looks worried.
>”What the hell is going on? Alwin, go up there tell us”, the griffins orders.
>One of the griffins takes off and goes up in the air. He raises his claw to his head and narrows his golden eyes.
>Then an expression of shock crosses his face.
>Alwin drops.
>”Boss! Watch out! It’s the-!”
>Alwin never finishes his sentence as an axe, hurled through the air with incredible strength, buries itself in his chest amidst a spray of blood.
>The stomping sound is now deafening and everybody turns in time to see a blur of horned heads and furred biped bodies charging into the snowed clear where you stand, an unrelenting wall of steel blades held before them.
>The fight that ensues is intense, but also short, as it is clear who’s the winner from the very beginning.
>Two griffins fight side by side, swinging their weapons around them and slashing with their claws at their attackers whenever they can, but four minotaurs quickly get into their guard.
>One of the minotaurs manages to tie their opponent’s claws together using a strange chained weapon and the second griffin is brought into submission when a darkened hoof sinks his face several inches into the ground.
>The p0ny defends himself for a while, jumping and punching with his hind legs, before being taken down by a direct hit to its head with a blade’s flat side.
>The third griffin simply lets out a scared screech, takes off and flies away. The minotaurs don’t even bother with pursuing him.
>At first, Leopold clumsily raises your pistol and fires it, the sudden recoil making him miss the shot. When the minotaurs are almost on him, he discards it and produces two daggers, which begin being used to deliver precise strikes to the greyed-fur minotaur from this morning. 
>As for the minotaur himself, he deflects all the attacks with a huge double-bitted axe and launches some of his own, making Leopold fall back and take off sometimes; just to keep the axe edges off his head and limbs.
>The duel goes on for a while, both Leopold and the minotaur performing a deadly dance. Then the minotaur misses a blow and his axe gets stuck in the snowed ground. The minotaur begins pulling the handle, trying to get its weapon back.
>Then Leopold senses his opportunity and goes for the killing blow, blades pointing at his foe’s throat. 
>That is until a furred fist lands on his face. 
>Leopold stops for a moment, stunned by the sudden blow, and that’s all his opponent needs. 
>In one swift movement, the minotaur pulls its axe free and swings it in an ascending arch, cleaving right through the griffin’s middle section. 
>Leopold collapses on the ground, staining the snow with steaming blood and entrails. 
>Half a griffin screeches and twitches for a few agonizing seconds before a second axe blow takes his head off the shoulders.
>The minotaur idly shakes some blood drops from his axe and turns to the survivors of the group, now disarmed and held captive by his boys.
>”Get the hell out of here, or the next heads rolling will be yours”
>The p0ny and the griffins need no more words and they quickly beat it the moment the minotaurs release them, not even turning to look back.
>You lay there, back against your plane, stunned and shocked to say the least.
>Being a soldier in the Great War, you are no stranger to this kind of violence, that is true.
>But, hell, you can’t get completely used to it, no matter what. 
>Nobody can, really. 
>”See, Anonymous?”
>You turn your gaze to the old minotaur, and he grins.
>”Told you you’d need us”


>Some minutes later of clearing the field and tending to the few wounded, the minotaurs form around you and your airplane in petite committee. Their chief speaks to you. 
>”So, looks like you’re in debt with us”
“Oh, yeah”, you chuckle humorlessly, “how quaint. Do you accept francs or pounds?”
>”Sorry, Anonymous, foreign currency isn’t really our thing”
“Then, I’m afraid I’ve got noth-”
>”But we can accept other forms of payment”
>You have heard that before, from a certain, now beheaded, griffin. You shift nervously and your hand goes for your pistol. The other minotaurs see it and quickly you have the points of nearly a dozen blades pressed against your body, a few of them on very sensitive spots.
>”It’s alright, boys”, the minotaur waves his hand, dismissing the incident, and the weapons back away as you slowly move your hand off the holster, “We didn’t mean that. We aren’t like Leopold and the others”, he pauses for a few moments, “Not much, at least”
“What do you guys want from me then?”
>”Let’s start anew first, shall we? Name’s Strongblow, Anonymous, and these are my boys…”, he begins pointing at them, giving you their names. All of them sound incredibly ridiculous, just like anyone’s in this land, “… Cunningeye, Sharphorn, Longstrike and young Hittingbull here” 
“Aha, pleasure to meet you….”, you smile at them and they smile back with grins of their own, except for Cunningeye, who simply stares at you, dead serious, “And what do you people do, then?”
>”We rob, we fight, sometimes on our own, sometimes on hire, always for money, Anonymous, but we never, ever, steal from peasants and travelers… specially from those who are lost”
“You mean, you are like bandits… or mercenaries?”
>”Yes”
“But with a sense of honor or something?”
>”It’s not as complicated as that”, a minotaur named… Ironforger? answers, “we simply aren’t as bad as people would usually think”
>”Anyways”, Strongblow interrupts, “We are trying to do a big job here, Anonymous, and we’d like you to help us”
>You nod, still feeling suspicious of their true intentions. 
>”Is it true that this thing of yours here can fly?”, Strongblow taps the biplane’s side with his knuckles. The others seem content to examine it from a distance. 
“Yes, this Sopwith sure can fly…”
>”See, boys! Told you-!”  
“… or at least it could yesterday”, you sigh in defeat, “Now it’s just a mess”
>”Don’t you worry about that, Anonymous, we can get some help around here. There’re some real good carpenters and blacksmiths back in Trottingheim. With their help we can make sure your… eh…”
“Plane, it’s called a plane”
>”…plane! That’s it! Yeah, we’ll make sure your plane flies again in no time!”
>You have doubts about these minotaurs’ ability to get your Sopwith up in the air.
>Perhaps those artisans can patch up the wings and get the tail back to its place, true. 
>But what about the fuel? What if there is some sort of trouble with the engine? 
>Oh, fuck it. You aren’t going to refuse the only help offer you’ve received lately.
“Thanks a lot for this, Strongblow”, you say, stretching your hand.
>”Whatever, Anonymous”, he stretches his own and grasps yours in an iron grip.
“So, what do I owe you for this guys? What’s the job?”
>”The job, Anonymous, is something where your skills with this plane of yours can come quite in handy”, Strongblow passes a muscled arm over your shoulder and mutters.
>”Say, Anonymous, what do you know about dragons?”


>Far away, at Castle Maredragon, capital of the Unicorns’ Princedom…

>Princess Platinum steps into the Castle’s Throne Room, were all members of the Court are currently assembled.
>All of them bow at once to the sight of their ruler donning her most elegant attires, a purple and white velvet cape, as well as a silver jeweled crown resting on her head. 
>By her side stands her most trusted servant, a mare dressed in simple archivist’s attire, known by everyp0ny as Clover the Clever.
>Some of the present nobles whisper wildly, wondering what is her princess doing in such a formal attire, with her counselor Clover present, and why are all of them gathered there.
>The sense of mystery is broken by Platinum’s soft, but commanding voice. The whispers die as the ruler of the Princedom speaks.
>”You must be wondering why Court has been convoked at this time of the day. It is because we have an urgent matter to attend”
>”Yesterday night, I received a message from my frontier guards saying that an emissary from a distant land had trespassed into our territory”
>The whispers start again.
>”This emissary, of apparently noble origins, has asked for our hospitality. In return, he will explain us everything about his unexpected arrival. Now, let us receive this guest of us”
>The doors at the opposite end of the room open and a much agitated and pale chamberlain steps through.
>He composes himself a little bit and his voice echoes through the wide chamber.
>”We hereby announce the arrival of…!”
>The chamberlain interrupts himself before raising a parchment in front of him and reading out loud.
>”… Lord Namenlos Von Anonym, representative of the Deutsches Reich and appointed emissary of his land on behalf of Kaiser Wilhelm the Second!”
>Then, the strangest creature the nobles of the Princedom have ever set eyes upon steps through the doors into the Throne Room.


>You are Namenlos.
>As you step into what appears to be a Throne Room, you begin thinking of what you are going to say. The words you speak here are crucial. 
>These horned p0ni-unicorns… were reasonable enough to listen to your story and once you mentioned them you were a noble, their attitude towards you made a 180 turn and made it all easy enough to get you here. 
>You invented some small details of your story, of course, but those were made on reasonable premises.
>If you are the only German Von around here, even if you are a minor noble, you can be considered a somehow ambassador of the Fatherland, can’t you?
>Anyways, you must get these p0nies to repair your plane or take you to a place where it can be repaired. Given what little you’ve seen of their technological and cultural level, the second option might be the best one.
>On the other hand, you’d swear you’ve seen them make things float without any visible means sometimes, although you know that’s impossible. There’s something called gravity, after all.
>This place is trying to drive you crazy.
>The sooner you return to the Front and contribute to Germany’s inevitable victory the better.
>You make your way amongst a crowd of shocked p0nies, all of them wearing capes and hats that resemble those you’ve seen in drawings and illustrations of people of the Middle Age. 
>Some of them whisper stupid things about monkeys and minotaurs, but you pay these no mind. 
>Your Fokker first, these mutant p0nies later.
>You then stop in front of a set of stairs with a dais atop of it. A unicorn in a purple cape with a silver crown rests upon the throne, with another by its side. The unicorn with the crown speaks with in a soft female voice, one with a touch of regality in it. 
>”Ambassador Namenlos, I’m princess Platinum of the Princedom and this is my counselor, Clover”
“It is an honor to meett you, your Highness”, you say as you bow, stifling your laughter at those names, “As it is to meett you, fraulein Clover”, you nod towards the counselor. 
>She flinches a bit at your last word, but doesn’t say a thing.
>”So you come from this… eh… “Doitschs Rach”?”
“Ja, zat is much korrect, your Highness”, you painfully ignore the mispronunciation of the name of your glorious Fatherland. Correcting royalty isn’t considered appropriate for first diplomatic contacts.
>”Wouldn’t that happen to be next to some griffin territory?”, the second unicorn asks in a suspicious tone.
“Ich am afraid we’fe never heart of griffins back at zee Deutschland, fraulein” 
>”Next to the Minotaur fiefdoms, perhaps?”, she insists.
“Minotaurs? Zose are mere legents” 
>”Legends? But that’s-!” , she looks confused about your response. Then the princess interrupts her.
>”Perhaps it would be best, dear Clover, if we let ambassador Namenlos speak”
>There’re a few moments of expectant silence as you collect your thoughts and prepare. This is the crucial part.
“Ich am a soldier of the Reich, your Highness. Under zee orders of Kaiser Wilhelm, our Emperor, we’fe been takink part in zee Great Var for zee last three years”
>Whispers and gasps are heard all around you.
>”Great War? We haven’t heard of such a conflict”, Princess Platinum says with surprise. 
“Ich am impressed you hafen’t, your Highness… for zees terrible konflict has seen more zan a million frave men of my land killed in zeese past years…”  
>The gasps and whispers are now loud, and both the princess platinum and its counselor stare at you, eyes widened in shock.
>”A million?”
>”But that’s…”
“Ich know it sounds horrible, ja, and it is, your Highness, but allow me to explain properrly. It all started…”
>And so you tell them of the Great War.
>Of its origins.
>Of your Fatherland and its allies.
>Of the Entente Powers and their treacherous methods of waging war. 
>”Pray tell, ambassador, what are these “tanks” you speak of?”
“A tank is a monstrrous metal machine, your Highness… It’s like…”, you struggle to find the right words to explain the concept to these backwards creatures, a concept that, to be honest, you don’t know much about, either, “Sink of a great vagon vith metal plates all ofer it, your Highness, ant shained wheels kapable of shtomping ant smashing soldiers under zeir veight…”
>The horror of these p0nies only increases when you speak of chemical warfare.
>Of course, you don’t mention it was your country the first one to use those during the War. Or that you also make fine use of flamethrowers and the like. 
>No mean is too dishonorable when it contributes to the cause of the Fatherland, but it wouldn’t be advisable to make your nation look as bad as the Entente members at this time. 
>It takes nearly an hour, but, at last, you finish explaining the situation to the p0nies.
“And zat is zee komplete story, your Highness”
>”Oh, my…”, counselor Clover is covering her mouth with her hoof.
>”Your people are indeed very brave to resist in those terrible conditions, ambassador Namenlos” , princess Platinum says, still shocked from your story.
“Ve do vhat ve can, your Highness, gifen zee cirkumstances” 
>”We shall grant you whatever assistance you deem necessary”
“Your Highness is too generous”, you say while gently bowing.
>”Think of it as nothing, ambassador. Now, tell us, you mentioned on your way here having some trouble with your… flying artifact…?”
“It’s kalled a triplane, your Highness”
>”…triplane… that’s it? Well, my guards have shipped your triplane inside the castle grounds and I’ll have some of my best mages of the Court looking at it in no time, so you don’t have nothing to worry about”
>Mages? Does she mean the same as… wizards? Are they going to try repairing your Fokker with superstitious rituals? Not on your watch.
“Eemmm… excuse me, your Highness, but Ich vould be fery interested to supervise zee work of your… mages”, when the princess raises an eyebrow in concern, you quickly add, “just to guide zem ant make sure they hafe no troubles”
>”Of course, ambassador. They’re right here”
>You hear the sound of hooves tapping behind you and you turn to see a group of unicorns make their way through the crowd of nobles towards where you stand. These are dressed in black, hooded robes. 
>The one at the front has some sort of strange lensed device attached to its head, much like those used by jewelers, and it’s the first to speak.
>”Greetings, Lord Namenlos. My name is Solar Eclipse, at your service”
“A pleasure to meet you, Herr Eclipse”, you reply, once more managing to contain your laughter in the process. These names are going to kill you. 
>”I am the second Archmage of the Council and first degree technomancer” 
“Teknomancerr? Vhat does zat mean? Are you perhaps an engineer, Herr Eclipse?”
>”I don’t know what an engineer is, sir, but I can assure you that technomancers are well learnt in combining the arts of magic with the intricate ways of mechanics and the like”
”Like, for example?”
>”Like the design and construction of the most precise clock in the entire Princedom, for example”, he declares with no little amount of pride in his voice, “precise to the minute and second. It is located at the top of the Astronomy Tower. Perhaps you’ll like to see it afterwards, Lord Namenlos? It truly is a sight and I guarantee you that you’ll probably have never seen anything like it”
>A watchmaker. They want to put your triplane under the care of a watchmaker. 
>Worse than that: a hooved watchmaker.
>This is preposterous.
>”Are you alright, Lord Namenlos?”
“… ah, ja! Ich was sinking, zat’s all!”
>”Very well, then… Now tell me, what kind of magic does your… triplane, was it? Yes, what magic does it use?”, several of the robed p0nies at his back levitate- yes, levitate!- quills and parchments as if to take notes. 
>So you weren’t imagining the magical floating-thing, after all.
>”Is it elemental? Fire, ice, air? Perhaps arcane magic?”, the Archmage gives you a grin, “Or maybe your people are those who prefer the Eldritch type? I know it’s a bit unstable, but-”
“Aktually, ve prefer petrol, Archmage”, you reply, pretending not to have heard that nonsense about types of magic.
>”Petrol?”, Solar Eclipse blinks, “I’m not familiarized with that kind of magic”, suddenly, he narrows his eyes and looks at you suspiciously, “Is it the name of an imprisoned genie? A jinn or demon of sorts? Is your triplane a possessed machine?”
“Vhat?! Nein, not at all!”
>”Oh, I see, then-”
“Petrol is just liquid fuel”
>Your words are received with a shocked look from the Archmage. The other robed p0nies exchange weird looks, as do many of the nearby Court nobles. 
>”Fuel?”, Solar Eclipse makes the word roll slowly out of his mouth, as if not believing what you’ve just said, “You mean, like… the oil used in lamps?”
“Prrecisely, Herr Eclipse” 
>Much to your bewilderment, the response of the Archmage and, much likely, his apprentices, is to laugh in your face.
>”Oh, Lord Namenlos, that was a good one! You really got me! For a moment, I even believed you were being serious and all! I mean…!”, he tries to contain another fit of laughter, but to no avail. He then turns to his apprentices, “Can you imagine it, my disciples? A magicless machine, flying?”
>”Like a wagon!”, one of them points.
>”With wings!”, a second adds, still chuckling.
>”Yeah, my disciples, as if…!”, the Archmage sighs and composes himself, “Very well, now, Lord Namenlos, what is this magic that makes your triplane fly?”
“Petrol”, you reply in a cold manner. 
>The laughter begins anew, but soon dies as the unicorns see that you maintain the same calmed and severe expression. 
>”Are you serious, Lord Namenlos?”
“Deat serious, Herr Eclipse”, you advance one step towards them and your- for them-towering height makes Solar Eclipse flinch a bit, “Petrol vith a mixture of kerrosene ant a 98 oktane ratink, if zie memory doesn’t fail me”
>There is much silence as the Archmage and disciples process this new information. Then one of the robed apprentices raises a hoof.
“Ja?”
>”What’s an octane?”
>You sigh and facepalm.
>You can tell this is going to be difficult.


>Not even two minutes later…
>You bid farewell to the Archmage and his disciples as they hurriedly abandon the Throne Room. 
>You turn to speak with the princess again and notice her servant Clover is gone, but you pay no mind to this detail. 
>There are more important matters at hand.
>”So, ambassador? What do you think of my mages? Are they up to the task?”
“Ich don’t intent to offend zee mages or you, your Highness, but Ich must request zat zey stay as avay frrom my triplane as possible”
>”Oh, don’t be like that, ambassador”, she dismisses your comment with a polite chuckle, impervious to your cold seriousness, ”Supreme Mage Star Swirl the Bearded hasn’t been called yet. He hasn’t been in best of shape lately, but maybe he can lend you a hoof in this matter?”
>Another Mage?
>Ha, just what you need.


>Meanwhile, Clover the Clever is hastily trotting all the stairs up towards one of the highest rooms in the Castle’s Keep, next to the Astronomy Tower. When she reaches her destination, she wastes no time and knocks on a wooden door. 
>An old voice, muffled and dry, answers immediately behind it.
>”The door is open. Do come in”
>Clover open the door and closes it behind her as she steps into a darkened room filled to the brim with scrolls, tomes and parchments, as well as an astrolabe, a small planetarium, a collection of skulls of many sizes and shapes distributed on shelves and, finally, an eight-pointed talisman hanging from the ceiling near the rear wall. 
>The only light source is an open window, through which the early afternoon gloom now falls upon a robed, bearded figure, making multiple hanging bells gleam like little fireballs.
>”Ah, my prized pupil, it is you”, the voice of the Star Swirl sounds like the cracking of old paper and his words seem to have some dust of their own.
>”Yes, my mentor”
>”Tell me, did you see this “ambassador” of sorts?”
>”I managed to, yes”
>”And where you able to “examine” him properly, my dear Clover?”
>”I tried the spell you instructed me to use, but-“, Clover thinks for a few moments, “I think it didn’t work as it was supposed to”
>”I presume you made the conjuration in the proper order? Did anyp0ny see you use it? Perhaps you were victim of a counterspell…”
>”Nop0ny saw me use it, as far as I can tell. It happened otherwise, it was… strange… as if my magic slipped past through him”
>”Past through?”, the Bearded narrows his eyes in deep thought, “As if there was not a bit of magic inside him?”
>”Yes, it was… so unnatural”
>”Then perhaps our visitor is… a magicless creature, after all” 
>”A magicless creature? But that’s only a theoretical concept! How can any living being exist without even a bit of latent power? The pegasi, the earth p0nies… even wild animals have some sort of it, you taught me that!”
>”Yes, I do remember our first lessons, Clover”
>”Then how can this Namenlos ambassador be…? It doesn’t make any sense! And then he even said his flying artifact didn’t use any magic at all! Can you believe it?”
>”Well, I say I can”, he raises a hoof to silence his pupil, “Remember, Clover. We, the unicorns, may be wise and all, but we don’t have the monopoly of knowledge, although many of our colleagues revel in thinking that way. We must always be open-minded and try to embrace new ideas and concepts, no matter how strange they sound”
>”Very well”, Clover replies, still a bit unsure. She then says, “but if this ambassador isn’t what we are looking for, then…?”
>”I’m afraid we must divert our search towards other directions”
>”Any ideas, my mentor?” 
>The Bearded looks out of the window and his gaze passes over the whitened trees and fields outside the Castle Yards to the greyed skies, then back to his room and his apprentice.
>”Have you noticed how long this winter is lasting, Clover?”
>”It is the talk of the whole Castle”, she sighs, “Some even say that there could even some food shortages due to the poor weather and there’s rumor of actions against the Pegasi Junta if they aren’t able to bring the spring in time…”, Clover thinks for a moment before continuing, “… or against the Republic’s farmers”
>”Just as expected”, the Bearded sarcastically mutters.
>”Are you suggesting this has anything to do with your premonitions?”, Clover asks cautiously.
>”Who knows?”
>”But there’s only been three months since the last solstice”
>”And still, there’s frost and snowing every morning, my pupil. Doesn’t that bother you?”
>”Well… yes…, but this may be, after all, just a slight delay of seasons, don’t you think? ”
>”I hope you are right, Clover”, the Bearded sighs, “I really hope you are right”

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