~ Discord and Co., Enterprise of Evil ~
~ by Wisher ~
Chapter I
In a city like this one, Ronald Winston considered it quite useful, and an incredible stroke of luck, to have a penthouse like he did. Especially one on the top floor of a building, which on sunny days shone brilliantly with all the tinted glass panes covering its surface. Especially when said penthouse included a large, pleasant terrace, complete with a bar and a swimming pool of more than decent size. Today happened to be one of those dazzling sunny days. The terrace, the penthouse, the stunning view on the entire city of Saint-Celest... They were all his to enjoy.
Ronald Winston was a very fortunate man. And for this he was very thankful. He was thankful for being born in a family that was as incredibly wealthy as his was. He was thankful he had always been given the very best education a man could have. He was thankful that he had always been raised under a magnificent roof, and that when he was not, he was off on holidays in exotic places, that would give him a lifetime's worth of unforgettable memories.
He was thankful that he had a large family, and that they cared for him as well as each other. He was thankful they had brought him many useful business and social connections. He was thankful that he would have enough money as it is, to peacefully live out the rest of his days, no matter how long his time would draw out.
He was Ronald Winston, baron of Wilkshire. He stood higher above the floor of society than his penthouse stood above the ground. Because of this he was sheltered from any sort of criminality or danger, even from almost all the hardships of the common man.
And for this, he was not thankful at all.
He was not, in view of his riches, a common man. He saw the latter as a sort of mythical creature. A fascinating being, that he would sadly never engage with. When he was young, growing up in a world of luxury was the only world he knew. Back then he'd always been indifferent to just how different his life was from anyone else's. He never took notice of just how much he stood out from the crowd of other children he was meant to blend in with, despite having been schooled in only the most select and expensive private schools. Arguably, children were never truly aware of social realities around them. But the difference between his family and those of the middle class, was that the members of his family had never grown to be truly aware of these realities themselves. They were as blind to how the world worked as when they were children. And as he grew up, the baron had come to understand that he was not living in the world of the average man.
He had become increasingly obsessed with the question of being normal. He very often daydreamed in sad fascination of what it was like to be an "average joe". To fail and succeed at school. To struggle to find work. To plan for one's fututre. To drive one's own car. To be excited at the concept of getting a raise, or a promotion, or the prospect of being able to move up in society. To plan and worry about one's future, and that of his family. To be mugged in the street, even. These were all ups and downs he knew everyone would experience daily without a second thought. Everyone but him.
There was virtually nothing positive he could expect, nothing to look forward to in his life. No satisfying goal to reach. Just an endless sea of irksome, boring wealth. The point of money was to be rare, to earn it through effort, to make a man move on with his life. What was the point of having so much money if it wasn't something he could appreciate having? It was an easy way out, that he had not chosen, and it made him miserable.
So yes, he was thankful for all the things he had that people could never buy even though they would dream of it all their lives. But what really mattered to him was what money could not buy, which was what he had not... Real experience of the world.
Which left him brooding, a glass of fine wine in hand, under the sun on the terrace of his lovely penthouse, smothered in all the wealth he had come to despise.
On a small, rattan table with a glass top, a bottle of that wine and a few glasses were set. Four people were sitting around this table: the baron himself, and three women.
There was his mother, Lady Winston. As head lady of the family, she was one of those people who were completely blind to the world of those who cannot afford champagne. Next to her was her sister, the baron's aunt Ann. She was a large madam in whom Winston saw the same flaws, but he felt that she was less drunk with richness than her sister. But that was only because she was a little less rich than her to begin with. Even the baron himself was richer than his aunt. But that didn't stop him from wanting to break the mould of the comfortable coccon he was trapped in.
Obviously he loved his mother and aunt, for they were close family. But they were part of a social climate that just made him nauseous. He still loved them and wished them all the best. Even though they had introduced him to the third women at their table. This woman was the baron's fiancée, a young heiress to a powerful family that did business with theirs. And as to be expected in a couple such as theirs, he just could not wait for the day he would find a way to get rid of the pompous, cruel, obnoxious, heartless woman. But hey, she was loaded, and that was good enough reason for his parents to arrange their marriage. And now he had to pretend he loved his wife to be, who taught him that money didn't only make some people narrow-minded, it also robbed them of their soul.
"Oh, that is just the most wonderful thing! Don't you think, dear?"
The baron, who was fantasising about finding his wife to have "mysteriously fallen" down the stairs and theatrically displaying his disarray, had not noticed his mother talking to him. It took him a while to realise he was grinning at his feet like a madman.
"What is it that seems so amusing, dear?" said his mother.
"Oh, nothing, just daydreaming. Please do excuse my behaviour," he said. O woe is I, for my beloved has tragically fallen to her death and broken every bone in her body in this massive staircase of 132 polished white hard marble steps! O, the sincere grief that I am feeling! He tried not to grin again. Yes, he would definitely make it shakespearean.
"Well, in any case," resumed Lady Winston, "your aunt here was just telling me about how your uncle Wallace successfully concluded the deal he had been negotiating for over a month, with the Belgian jeweler company. He now owns 51 percent of its market shares!" she said.
"Yes, and hopefully I'll get to go to Belgium more often for a taste of their simply divine chocolate truffles!" said aunt Ann giddily.
The baron flashed a half smile of appreciation, trying not to betray that he really didn't give a unicorn shit. With all due respect to his aunt, she was already fat enough as it was. "How wonderful indeed," he said nervously.
"I do hope this fine wine isn't robbing you of your sense of concentration, my love," said his fiancée. Her words were acidic, and hissed at Winston's ears like snakes. He could sense the fake concern in her voice, and that she had seen through his bluff. He looked at her squinting eyes, shooting daggers with his own.
"Don't be silly dear," he said through clenched teeth. The last word was always difficult to pronounce, as if someone prodded him somewhere quite unpleasant with a giant thorn every time he said it. She gave him as a reply a slim smile that made his hair stand on end with unease. He was aware that she hated him as much as he did her, and that she only sought his company because she saw a huge piggy bank waiting to be cracked open in him. But they never truly discussed the matter. They never discussed anything, at all, outside of family meetings. There was too big and too heavy a cloud of awkwarness surrounding their being alone together for anything to be said. God how I hate her.
* * *
Their little get-together was ended at twilight. The baron took in the now half-empty bottle of wine and put it in the fridge. After wishing his family the best, and laying a brief and venomous peck on his partner's cheek, his guests left for home.
Breathing out an audible sigh of relief, the baron walked towards one of the glass panes of his penthouse. He enjoyed the towering view he had over Saint-Celest at this time of the day. As the sun set on the eastern side of the sky, it would cast a strong, gorgeous wave of orange that crept sideways into his flat and over the whole scene at the ground, strengthening the contrast between shadow and light in the mosaic of buildings, big and small, that could be seen.
As the beautifully blinding sunset faded on this summer's day, the sky became a soft blend of light blue and pink. In the dawn of the evening ahead, the whole city turned to an ensemble of millions of little lights of all sizes and colours. This he found truly soothing, for it was now that the complexity of the urban jungle revealed itself to him. Through the glass door that he had left open leading to the terrace, he could smell the crisp evening air, no doubt polluted but fragranced with the many smells of the city. And he could hear the symphonic melody of the countless noises he could hear below. An uncoordinated and chaotic music, but that nonetheless spoke to his soul.
A big city like this one never slept. He watched from above as many people made their way home after a gratifying day's work, some content, some just eager to get home and pop a beer open. Others made their way out, either to get to what nighttime businesses they owned, or simply to get to a night out with their friends.
But what the baron truly loved about this scene was that it was not only people he saw. Indeed, he was in Saint-Celest, the most populated and thriving hybrid city in the world. It was called so because it was home to humans and the wonderful, mysterious ponies.
It's funny how quickly and simply we got used to it, Winston thought. It was true; about ten years ago, out of the blue, colorful ponies were sighted all over the world. Needless to say, it was instantaneous, worldwide front-page news. Nobody could figure out what was the weirdest part about it all. They were clearly cartoon characters, and yet were in three dimensions, and were as palpable as real-world ponies, which made for a very strange feeling. But perhaps the fact they spoke was stranger, or that they spoke not only english, but that all the languages in the world could be accounted for. Or maybe the fact that their intelligence was at human-level, many ponies in fact surpassing the intelligence level of man. They showed themselves more capable than humans of reasonable, sensible thought, and rationale. They also showed more expression of certain traits such as kindness, compassion, wisdom, and tolerance.
In time, anatomic dissection of ponies was at hand, and it was revealed that they shared most of the body structure and genes of normal ponies. Even those which had a hint of avian genes in them, known as pegasi. And for scientists, unicorns were a real treat. In fact, research and understanding of the system of magical organs their bodies used was still ongoing, and far from complete.
And if only that was the end of it. Indeed, it was mostly ponies that had arrived, but other creatures came sprouting out of nowhere at all. And they were just as sentient.
It was doubtlessly the biggest shocker in human history. The discovery, out of thin air, of many lush forms of life, the only other form to date which actually shared a mind and an intelligence level with mankind, without being part of it itself. And yet, it was also a wake-up call. In times of economic and political distress, these bright and intelligent ponies had completely thrown off the balance of the world's functioning. And for the better. They brightened up everybody, and now "everypony" 's lives. They had brought with them a simpler way of living, through less thinking, and more smiling. Something which was thought to be impossible. The people of the world said that this way of sensible living and these peace-loving ways were an awakening and a helping hand that had saved a desperate world from caving itself in its own misery. And the bronies simply said, we told you so.
Perhaps that was the reason why society had adapted itself so quickly to the ponies. Much had happened in 10 years. Ponies were in every fiber of popular culture. Ponies were property owners, shopkeepers, model citizens, athletes, celebrities, scientists, and so on. Gary Kasparhoof was the world's most intelligent person, despite being a pony. Tattoo parlors worldwide knew a sharp increase in business, because of people flooding in to get their very own "cutie marks" tattooed on their hips. Everything even remotely recent was designed for use by the two kinds, pony and man. Today, everything was pony-related in some way. "Everything is pony", as they said.
But, for everything good, even something as good as ponies, there is a dark side. When the unexpected newcomers had arrived, the initial response from mankind was the one to be expected: weariness, fear, and even violent suppression. Fortunately it had quickly ceased, giving way to open-arm tolerance of the new neighbours. But that did not mean that these flaws were a thing of the past. Pony racism from humans was still a very real thing, in fact, much more present than pony crime. It was hard to believe that it had even escalated to about the same level as human racism. Indeed, ponies were almost as much rejected as they were accepted in most parts of the world, which was quite contradictory. But it was just the order of things, surely. For Winston, it truly was a good thing that people had come to their senses. Now pony racism seemed to be a thing of the past, and ponies were free to roam this good earth alongside their biped brothers.
And so, ten years later, here they were. Earth ponies, unicorns, pegasi, all roaming free in a multi-coloured melting pot called Saint-Celest. Winston figured that they played a large part in his fascination of the "outside world". As a child, he'd been intrigued by the creatures, of course. Now he was used to seeing them, as was anyone, but still not used to interacting with them. He'd simply never seen a pony at any cocktail party he'd attended. He watched them like a fan would watch his favorite movie stars on a screen, desperate to be lucky enough to one day meet them in person. This was what the world of the common man was for him. A fascinating movie that never ended, that he wached through the screen of his window. He just wanted to be part of the beautiful nighttime scene that played out in front of him...
With that last wistful thought, Ronald Winston felt the usual pangs of sadness take the place of the sense of calm he'd been feeling. He would never be part of this vast world. With a grunt, he opened the fridge. A little more wine couldn't hurt. He stayed at the window a while longer, torturing himself with thoughts of how he would never belong, before going to sleep in his king-size bed.
Tomorrow awaited him.