What Happens in a Month? (Completed)

December 2nd, of the Fourth year of Occupation
(This occurs a month after the events of "A Chase in the Dark"

Zweihander awoke with a sigh, the coarse blankets of his bedding rubbing abrasively against his feathers and fur. Already his new companions were up and about by the fire, sitting in the scavenged furniture characteristic of any settlement in this... "sewer". However, one couldn't even tell they were in the sewers of Manehatten. The vault that Zweihander found himself living in had barely a drop of water inside, having been sealed from the harsh waters of the tunnels. However, air vents led to the surface, bringing in fresh air occasionally and insuring those that took shelter here didn't suffocate.

Looking to his side, he blinked the sleep from his eyes and smiled. He noted Arnholt playing tag with a pony foal, running around the fairly large area of the vault. He was surprisingly swift on his four legs, and flapped his small wings in excitement. It was surprising how he had adapted to his mother's death so quickly... poor tercel. Well, no sense in moping. Lifting himself up, he approached the fire and sat his hindquarters down for breakfast.

Taking a chunk of jerky from his satchel, he savoured the smell of the luxury. He was running low on his personal food supplies, but that was no real issue. "The Vault" (as it was referred to by its inhabitants) was deep enough that beasts of... "large" size were lurking beyond the safety of the large iron door. They were decent fare, but always had a gritty aftertaste. Jerky, especially that of beef, was ultimately preferable.

Chewing pensively, Zweihander wondered what his next move would be. Sten had made peace with him weeks ago, and could... "somewhat" be counted on. The rest of the beings he shared company with were, however, were on the good side of Zweihander, being understanding of Zweihander's unique difficulty of being mute. Well... at least no one was trying to stab him in the back anymore, at the moment.

Smiling at his good fortune, he ate the last of his jerky and waited for a conversation partner.

Sten fluttered his wings idly and glanced about. A spar of wood had been lying around, so he'd set about keeping himself occupied by whittling it down. Stuff was floating down all the time these days as the weather got worse. It didn't snow any more (since snow was a complex process, and they weren't about to waste time on something so counterproductive), so all they got above was rain and all the vault got was detritus washed down. There was probably something meaningful about that he thought, with a look over to Zwei.

He still wasn't sure what the tongueless bastard was thinking. Clearly murder wasn't at the top of the list, since Sten was still alive, and after all, they had the Agreement. All the same, best stay in Zwei's good books for now. He had the last of the sheet beef, after all. Speaking of which...

Sten sidled over and sat down.

"How's tricks?" he said, nonchalantly as he dared.

Zweihander glanced at the griffon, having heard the question posed to him. How's...tricks?The brown-feathered griffon thought. Sometimes he was lost on Sten's slang, the Court's accent garbling the words of the common tongue.

Chewing slowly, he wondered what Sten wanted. No matter, he would find out soon enough. Hopefully the griffon remembered enough sign language to communicate passably. There were things that needed to be discussed without the threat of eavesdropping.

Forming his claws into a folded position, he began "speaking" to Sten.

"Good morning, friend."

Good morning biscuit? Sandwich? Oh! Friend! Whew. He'd never had much of a gift for languages (although he knew quite a bit of Courtesan, the hideous traditional tongue of the Courts that was all glottal stops and double L's) and he had enough trouble with words, let alone gestures. Still, needs must when Discord drove.

"Yeah, good morning yourself. You alright?" he said, trying not to eye the stick of sheet beef too much.

Fashioning a reply with his scaled talons, Zweihander answered Sten.

"Been better, thank you for asking. Hungry?" He offered the slab of jerky to the griffon with a neutral expression, watching the beings around him warily. Few he could trust down here, it was better to encourage friends to stay friends after all. After this pleasant small talk, it would be time to talk "business". Revenge against Feliks would not come idly down here.

Feliks... He inwardly shivered. Never had a more cunning and snake-like griffon flew the skies. His orders had been the one that ended his way of life, and it wasn't a crime that had gone unnoticed to Zweihander. The craven would pay with his wings... when he had friends to help pluck them. Sten was hopefully the first among many friends.

Sten took the beef smiling. "Oh, well, ta for offering," he said, chewing on it. One good thing about it, it lasted as long as you needed.

Zwei was planning something, that much was clear. There was a griff with too much baggage and who needed it disposing of if there ever was one. Well that was obvious enough, they'd sent Sten down to hunt the bugger, or at the very least die in the attempt. And what a trial that had been.

Mind you, if the occupation wanted him dead, then that was something they had in common.

"So, is there a plan?" said Sten, vaguely.

"So is there a plan?" Sten spoke up. Smiling, Zweihander nodded at Sten. The griffon seemed to have an almost uncanny method of figuring out what was to come.

"Yes, I have a plan. However, you will stay down here for the time being." Zweihander signed to Sten. He pondered for a second. Was now the time to set everything in motion, the plotting of a month coming to fruition? Only time would tell. However, something came to the forefront of the griffon's mind. Sten actually could have a use aboveground... yes, there was something he could do.

"On second thought, I have something for you to do. We need a hippogriff, preferably one that enjoys the sound of gold. If you catch my meaning."

Sten grimaced a little. "A hippogriff?" he said, raising both eyebrows. "You sure you want one down here?"

Zweihander may have been the boss as far as he was concerned (Sten was always much more of a doer than a planner), but all the same. A hippogriff (and a mercenary one at that) wasn't something Sten wanted to bring on himself, or anyone else down here for that matter.

On the other hand, it did mean time out of this sump.

Zweihander nodded at Sten's words. "Yes, we need one. Like it or not, having a hippogriff is good for recruitment. They're also excellent fighters if you get them passionate about what they do." Pausing, the brown griffon smiled. Hippogriffs made excellent go-betweens, diplomats, and agents. Their combat prowess was not amiss either, having some of the natural skill of griffons in combat.

All in all, a good ally to have. "I have no preferences; however use your judgement before you bring one down. I need to be able to trust their loyalty to my coin." Zweihander signed to Sten. "I'll be making preparations for a meeting with some possible allies in the next few weeks. We won't move until you're back, however."

Sten nodded with a sigh. If hippogriff it had to be, then hippogriff it was. After all, Zwei wasn't asking him to like it.

"Where d'you reckon I could find one?" said Sten, leaning back and chewing idly. "I never was in the business of seeking them out, you understand. Also, do we have a price ceiling on hiring this chap? I understand if we're not exactly rolling in finance right now."

Zweihander raised a brow. "Weren't in the business of seeking beings out? Friend, you managed to sneak into the secret location of my employer, and find me down here. You can find a hippogriff easy enough." Zweihander sighed and looked to Arnhölt pensively, keeping an eye on the young griffon. "Money is no real object, I have plenty stashed around the city in safe places. However, that doesn't mean that the hippogriff can rob us blind. Use your judgment, I trust you Sten."

Wincing from a headache, Zweihander went slack for a moment, the pain in his temple coming to the fore of his mind. Shaking it off after a few moments, he looked to Sten for his response.

Sten glanced behind him and took a deep sigh. "I never tried looking for hippogriffs before," he said, shaking his head. "I'll do my best."

He got up and gave Zwei a broad, forced smile. "Once more into the breach, eh?"

Already he was thinking where to look... somewhere they could lie low. No one wanted to see hippogriffs out and about, especially not the guards. That meant somewhere run down and rife with criminals.

Take your friggin' pick, he thought.

Zweihander saw Sten's discomfort, and pondered for a second. "I suggest the East Residential. Many beings do illicit activities up there." Signing this to Sten, he gave the griffon a reassuring smile. "As well, I have a stash of Equestrian coin in the East Residential. Feel free to use it to bribe, cajole, or even buy food. It's a gift, although a small one. Several hundred bits."

Sten nodded and smiled back. "Right you are. I'll see what I can do."

He turned and ambled out of the vault, keeping his eyes to himself, still chewing the sheet beef. Man that stuff lasted...

Zweihander turned to a small pegasus beside him. She was a younger pony, barely out of her nineteenth summer, with a coat of bronze and a mane of black. Her name was Cumulus Bronze, and she would prove to be essential in this plan. Passing her an envelope sealed with a wax mark, he nodded and turned to the fire. Silently trotting off, the mare knew her mission.

Zweihander's plans were now in motion, the gears of clockwork ticking to a slow rhythm. There was plotting to do... and contacts to be made.